Chapter 6
BLAIR
I call out of Scents.
It’s probably a dumb thing to do, given that I’ll likely miss out on a couple hundred dollars in tips.
But I just…can’t today.
This should be a joyous time.
I found a scent match.
A handsome Alpha at that, who was gentle with the cats.
Instead, I left the rescue early like a coward, tears stinging my eyes as I drove home.
I ran away from him.
From Ryland.
Ryland, who was all easy smiles and confidence when I approached him.
Who smelled like everything I’ve ever wanted.
Marlin and Mervin don’t leave my side while I comb through my apartment, yanking open every closet and cabinet door that could possibly contain a blanket.
I’m on autopilot. I have to make a nest, now.
My tidied bedroom becomes chaotic with the number of pillows, blankets, and comforters that I toss onto my bed. Some stay discarded on the floor when I deem them not soft enough for my use. I dim my lights, close the curtains, and crawl into bed, wrapping myself in the soft fabrics.
I brought out my best nesting blankets, ones I haven’t used in more than a year.
The thought only makes me tear up as I reflect on how screwed up this entire situation is.
Piper and Maeve think I have it together, but inside, every day is a struggle.
It’s difficult to get in my car and drive, to show up on time to work, and to act like everything is fine.
I thought I could do it. In fact, I was doing a decent job of pretending.
But this scent match?
I’m not sure I can handle it.
I clutch a cream blanket tightly, my fingers digging into the fabric as the tears begin to fall. My womb cramps, lonely and desperate for an Alpha, which only makes me feel worse.
It’s been almost two years since the accident, but today, it feels like it just happened.
Having a scent match means I need to face what’s happened. I knew I would have to process everything and move on eventually, but I didn’t think it would be this soon.
The nesting blanket smells like laundry soap and the slightest hint of cinnamon.
Even after all this time, my old pack’s scents linger on the blanket wrapped around my body.
I knew we weren’t scent matches. We ended on amicable terms and agreed to just be friends.
And then everything was ripped away from me.
The sound that leaves me is a childish, high pitched wail that dissolves into hiccups of grief.
Marlin and Mervin make their presence known, each of them jumping on top of my nest of blankets. Marlin offers me his toy mouse, while Mervin has a foam mini soccer ball in his mouth, which he drops next to me.
It only makes me cry harder.
“I don’t know what to do,” I croak, and they each curl up on either side of me, purring as they form into loaf shapes.
“I didn’t think it would be this soon,” I explain to them, and they slow blink at me, oblivious to my sorrow. “I didn’t even know it would happen at all.”
Scent matches aren’t guaranteed in life, and some people make do without them. But with my old pack, with Justin, Aaron, and Cody, we knew we weren’t right for each other. My Heats were fun with them, and they always took care of me.
But we were better off as friends.
And that’s what we should have been, had fate not royally fucked us.
Maybe if it hadn’t been raining that night. Maybe if I had insisted they stay until morning, since all our emotions were high.
Piper is lucky enough to have her scent matches, and I know Maeve is waiting for hers.
Why is the universe sending mine now?
I spend the next few minutes breathing through the guilt and sorrow that eats at me, slowing my heart rate and focusing only on softness of my cats’ fur.
My tuxedo boys are good to me, even if they try to deposit their drool-covered toys in my nest.
The buzzing of my phone interrupts my sniffling, and my stomach flips when I see Travis has texted me.
Heard you’re not feeling well. Get better soon.
It’s like a punch in the gut.
All this time, I thought Travis could be my scent match.
In another life, I would have been hoping it were him.
A rogue tear slides down my cheek, and I don’t bother replying to him.
What is there to say?
A knock at my door startles Mervin and Marlin, who both scatter off my bed and race to hide under it.
I frown.
I’m not expecting anyone, but I kick off my nesting blankets anyway and pad quietly to the door.
“Blair, it’s me,” Piper says, knocking again. “I know you’re home.”
I sigh and open the door, meeting Piper’s concerned face. A paper grocery store bag is in one hand while she shifts on her feet.
“Hey,” she says softly. “I would have texted you, but I figured you would just tell me not to come over.”
“I’m fine,” I say quickly, and my best friend raises an eyebrow.
“No, babe, you’re not.”
I shake my head.
“So, are you going to let me in or…” Piper trails off, and I step aside.
“You didn’t need to come and check on me,” I say as she takes off her shoes near the door.
“Oh, please. You’re always being the strong one. Let me be there for you, now. Because this?” She motions to my face. “This is absolutely insane, and I can’t believe it’s happening right now.”
“It is crazy, right?” I ask, my body surging with relief.
“It is. Really absurd. So was dousing yourself in cleaner to mute your scent.”
“Yup,” I murmur. “I can’t believe I did that.”
“Yeah.” Piper collapses on my couch in the front room like she’s done hundreds of times, bag in hand. “You scared the hell out of Maeve and me. By the way, I brought you some stuff to help with all this.”
I join her on the couch. “What stuff?”
She pulls out everything one by one. “Scent blocker gummies, body wash, and more deodorant. An anti-stress candle, some snacks, and slick pads. Oh, also nesting socks. Have you heard of those?”
I groan. “No, and I don’t know if I want to.”
“You’re going to be nesting whether or not you like it,” she adds gently, handing me the pack of thick, soft teal socks. “I figured you might as well be as comfortable as possible.”
I run my fingers over the soft material. “Who else knows about the match?”
“I didn’t tell anyone, but Maeve found out,” Piper sighs. “Mari doesn’t know, at least.”
Small miracles, I think to myself.
“Wait. How did Maeve find out if you didn’t tell her?”
“Uh…” Piper bites her lip. “Well…he was kind of talking to the cats about you.”
I stare at her. “He was what.” I deadpan.
“Maeve caught him talking to the cats about you, kind of asking them for advice.”
“Oh, my god,” I groan. “Really?”
Piper chuckles. “I mean, it could be worse, right? The cats all loved him. You saw that. And he went home with Ash.”
My heart warms at her statement. “That’s good, at least. Ash needs someone sweet.”
There are a few beats of silence as I chew my lip and stare off into the distance. But out of the corner of my eye, I can see Piper watching me.
“Yes?” I ask her, still not looking at her.
“What are you feeling, right now?”
I used to ask her that a lot, back when she was in her self-destructive streak. My best friend came out on the other side of it, more grounded than she’s ever been, and I appreciate her checking in on me.
I sigh. “Truthfully?”
“Yeah.”
“I’m thinking about Travis and feeling disappointed,” I admit, shame coloring my cheeks. “I’m thinking about how I wish he was my match.”
Silence.
“And I’m thinking about how that makes me a shitty person,” I mutter.
“It doesn’t, Blair,” Piper says gently. “I promise.”
I shake my head. “I had a feeling it was him, Piper. I thought it was Travis for a long time, and secretly, I had hoped.”
Not that anything would ever come of it.
“He could still be a scent match. Hell, you could have ten matches, for all we know,” Piper says softly. “If he isn’t, maybe you all could work something out, still.”
“Nothing’s going to be worked out.”
“What?”
I turn to meet Piper’s confused face. “There’s nothing I can do,” I tell her sadly.
“Wait. Hold on. What are you talking about?” She gestures to the bag of supplies, then points at me. “You found your scent match. You’re not even going to try with him?”
I can’t answer. I look down at the couch cushion, and Piper lets out a slow exhale.
“Okay. Wow. Okay,” she says, leaning back against the cushion. “Blair—”
“No.”
The silence stretches between us, and shame threatens to eat me alive.
“I’m not ready.” I admit to her. “It’s like I’m frozen in time. Everything goes back to them. I keep thinking, ‘how will I mess it up this time?’ Who would want to deal with all that?”
“It’s been two years,” Piper whispers. “You’ve been torturing yourself for two years.”
I bite the inside of my cheek to keep from crying.
“I don’t want to tell you what to do,” she continues. “But I also don’t want to see you punish yourself for something that wasn’t your fault. The car accident wasn’t your fault—”
“We had just broken up, Piper. Just ended it. They were upset, and I should have had them at least stay the night and not try to drive back to their packhouse.”
“You don’t control the weather, Blair.”
I hate this.
I hate the kindness and understanding that Piper is giving me because I don’t deserve it.
It was an amicable break up. It was bittersweet, but the four of us were confident we would remain friends.
I could have insisted they stay with me that night.
If Justin, Aaron, and Cody had stayed at my apartment, they would still be alive.
It’s a fact.
“I know how to use common sense, and I didn’t use it that night,” I admit bitterly.
It’s the most we’ve talked about this, and my stomach sours as the words tumble from my lips.
“You really blame yourself for this?” Piper huffs incredulously. “Come on, Blair. Come on, you’re the smartest person I know. There’s no way you truly believe this.”
“Stop it,” I snap. “I do believe it, because it’s true.”
Piper’s eyes widen.
“This was my fault, Piper. It was. I didn’t make them stay that night, and they are dead.” My voice cracks on the last word. “Even Justin’s mom thinks that. She blames me, and she has every right to.”
Piper shakes her head softly. “Blair, please—”
“That will never change. Ever.” My breath comes out in a shaky exhale as tears fill my eyes.
“I couldn’t even be in the same room with Ryland for more than ten minutes.
All I wanted to do was run from him, because if he ever found out the truth, if he ever knew how much I still dream about that night… ”
I let out a choked sob, ashamed of my reaction.
I don’t cry. I haven’t truly wept since I found out about the accident, but I can’t stop the tears that stream down my face. When I turn to my friend, I see tears have filled her eyes, too.
“I wish I could change the way you see this,” she says. “That’s not what happened.”
“Don’t, Piper,” I whisper. “Just please, don’t.”
“Okay,” she breathes. “Tell me what I can do, then. If there’s anything at all you need.”
“I need to be alone for a bit, I think,” I tell her, hating the guilt that pierces my chest. “To process all of this.”
“Oh.” Piper does her best to hide the surprise and disappointment on her face, but it’s no use. She nods and stands, clearing her throat.
By rejecting my friend, I’m hurting her.
Even her earthy catmint scent has soured.
But I don’t want her to see me like this.
I don’t even know how to acknowledge what happened today without curling up into a ball and shutting myself out from the world.
“Will I see you tomorrow?” Piper asks, not unkindly.
“I just need today to process, and figure it all out,” I tell her. “I’ll be there tomorrow. The cats still need us.”
The corner of her lip twitches. “Yeah. They always do.”
“Thank you,” I add, motioning to the supplies. “I wouldn’t have purchased these myself.”
“I know.” She grabs her purse from the counter, then turns back to me. “Call me anytime, and I’ll come over. Any time. We have a spare room for you at the packhouse, too.”
I nod. “Thanks.”
Once the door closes behind her, I put my face in my hands and weep.
I sob like I haven’t since I was at the hospital after the crash.
I cry like I haven’t since I had to tell the news to Justin’s mother, who immediately told me this was my fault and that I killed her baby boy.
Hot, ugly tears fall down my face until the couch dips with a slight weight.
My tuxedo cats make themselves known, both of them clamoring into my lap. They can’t fit on me at the same time, so Mervin and Marlin lay their paws on each of my thighs, the rest of their squishy bodies placed on the cushions.
It’s hard to keep crying like the world is ending when my two feline companions have come out of their hiding places to check in on me.
“My good boys,” I murmur to them, sniffling. “What am I going to do, huh?”
The only answer I receive is cuddles and unconditional affection.
I decide I’ll give myself this evening to cry it out and let every ugly emotion that I’ve been keeping inside spill from me.
Then, it’s back to the rescue, back to Scents, and back to being normal, level-headed Blair.
The worst part about all this, the cruelest joke of all, is that the anniversary of the accident is only a few days away.
Piper was kind enough not to mention it, and I had been doing my best to ignore the date in my head.
But it looms there, like a ticking time bomb.
It’s all too much. Scent matches, Travis, and the anniversary of the crash.
The only logical decision is to stuff it all down and act like Ryland doesn’t exist.
It’s the only way I can get through this.
And if my womb cramps, and I need to use those slick pads that Piper bought me, so be it.
It doesn’t change anything.
I’m determined to stay single.
If I have to deal with another Heat by myself, even though I have my scent match, I’ll endure it.
It’s better that way.
Better for who? my inner Omega whispers to me. It sounds like this isn’t good for anyone. What if Alpha thinks we rejected him?
But the primal part of me doesn’t get to dictate my life, and she sure as hell won’t be starting now.
The last time I went with my instincts, it ended in tragedy.
I pluck up my cats, cradling them to my chest, and carry them to my bedroom.
I notice that in the time I was talking to Piper, more cat toys have piled up in my nest, and I sigh as I toss a plush toy sheep and rainbow-colored bird onto the floor.
I can’t even be annoyed with Marlin and Mervin.
It’s looking like the only company I’ll have in my nest for the foreseeable feature will be my felines.
I suppose it could be worse.
No, it couldn’t, my inner Omega says. Don’t lie to yourself.
But I ignore her voice and crawl under the covers, allowing myself to wallow for the rest of the night.
Tomorrow will be better.
It has to be.