Chapter 8
TRAVIS
Blair doesn’t talk to me anymore.
I mean, she does, but it’s not like the way it used to be.
So, every shift at Scents, I bartend with her in silence like an idiot, only speaking when one of us is in the way of the other person. I still walk her to her car, but our friendly banter is gone.
I still haven’t confirmed that we’re scent matches, but even if we’re not, I’ll still happily be with her.
I picked Ryland and Rowan as my packmates for a reason. They’re my best friends, and they’re strong where I’m not. Brave when I’m a coward, outspoken when I’m quiet.
And if Blair is their scent match, and not mine? It’s fine.
We still don’t know for sure if Rowan is her match, but I have a feeling he is.
And even if we don’t match, I don’t care.
I still want her just the same.
But tonight’s shift is different. Blair enters the bar, dressed in dark leather pants and a black tank top, and my mouth waters. Her eye makeup is darker than usual, and her hair flows in wild waves down her back.
She’s terrifying and beautiful.
When she looks at me, I catch the redness in her eyes and frown.
“Everything okay?” I ask before I can stop myself.
“Huh? Oh, yeah,” she says, her smile wide and fake. “Just tired.”
That’s not the face of someone tired, though.
Hers is the beautiful face of someone defeated.
Someone in mourning.
When she stands next to me at the bar, even her scent is different.
There’s a chemical smell to it, as if she’s been reapplying deep cleaning agents or scent blockers to herself.
But what tiny amount of violets I do catch smell burnt, like smoke and char covering her sweetness.
Something is seriously wrong, and there’s nothing I can do about it.
I’m not her Alpha.
Hell, I’m not even sure if I’m her friend anymore.
My fist clenches around a glass so hard that I don’t even realize it’s shattered until Blair’s gasp.
“Holy shit! Travis, are you okay?” It’s the most alert I’ve heard Blair in days.
Blood runs down my hand, and I stare at the broken shards in surprise.
“Kora, can you take over for a few minutes?” I hear Blair ask. “And can we get someone to sweep up the glass? Travis is bleeding.”
“I’m fine,” I say gruffly. “Let me just get a rag and I can sweep it up.”
“I’ll help you,” Blair says. “Let’s go.”
I follow her to the backroom, cradling my hand while she rummages in the supply cabinets.
“I’m fine,” I tell her. “You go back out there. I’ll handle it.”
As tempting as it is to be alone with her, I won’t keep her back here just so she can tend to me.
Even if it’s the most attention she’s given me in days, I won’t take advantage of her hospitality.
“You dummy,” Blair says fondly, placing a roll of paper towels on the small table. “We need to get the glass out of your hand. I have tweezers in my purse. Sit down.”
I tear off a few sheets of the towels and wrap my hand in them. Blood soaks through the material, and I tear a couple more off.
“This is a health code violation,” Blair mutters to herself, pulling a chair next to me and sitting so we’re almost eye level. There are a pair of silver tweezers in her hand. “Let me see,” she murmurs, and I hold my hand out to her.
This close, I can scent those delicious violets again with the sweetness of her natural Omega smell. The burnt notes are still there, but up close, I’m drowning in Blair.
“It’s not that bad,” I insist as she delicately removes the towel from my hand. “You don’t have to treat me like a kitten.”
Her fingers trace along the inside of my palm, and I suppress a shiver. “I think I see a couple of splinters,” she says, ignoring my protest. “Do you feel them?”
I nod. “There’s couple right where your fingers were,” I say.
Blair grips the back of my hand with hers, then positions the tweezers. “If this hurts, tell me to stop,” she murmurs, the metal tongs looming over my palm.
If the only way I get her to touch me is by her picking glass out of my skin, I’ll do it every fucking day.
“Do what you need to do,” I tell her softly. “I’m fine.”
Her tongue darts out to lick her lower lip as she begins to gently work the tweezers, and I’m mesmerized.
There’s a harsh pinch, then relief as Blair successfully plucks out a shard and deposits it on the paper towel.
“You’re a liar,” she tells me, raising an eyebrow. “That definitely hurt.”
I smirk. “Maybe a little.”
She huffs out what could be a laugh if her eyes weren’t still so watery. The sorrow looms over her, and I realize that I’ve never seen her in all black before today.
It’s like she’s dressed for a funeral.
One more pinch, and then another shard comes out, this one bigger than the last.
“Oof,” Blair mutters. “How the hell did this happen? Did the glass explode in your hand or something?”
I was angry we weren’t talking anymore and I squeezed a glass so hard it broke.
“I guess,” I mutter. “It spontaneously combusted.”
She snorts, then squeezes my hand, angling it so she can see the meat of my palm better. “You’re lucky you don’t need stitches—just a bandage or two. Lucky for you, I have some glitter ones in my purse.”
“Lucky me,” I deadpan, but I know it will be worth it just to see her smile.
Her touch is delicate, her fingers small and soft, and my inner Alpha gnaws at the bars of his mental cage.
Touch her. Take her.
“Hey, are you guys good back here?” a voice asks, and I turn to see Rylee poke her head in. “Oops. Sorry. Didn’t mean to interrupt.”
Blair releases my hand and sits back in the chair. “There are bloody paper towels everywhere. What the hell would you be interrupting?”
Rylee disappears just as quickly as she enters, and Blair sighs, slumping against her chair. “Do you feel any more glass anywhere?” she asks.
I prod at my hand. “No. You got them all. Thanks.”
“Yeah.” Weariness returns to her face, and I realize she’s about to retreat back into herself, and we’ll go back to not talking.
I have to try one more time with her.
After feeling her hand touching mine, after inhaling her scent, I have to fucking try for her.
“You seem different today,” I say quietly, and her eyes darken.
“Different how?”
“Like you’ve been crying.”
Blair looks at me for a long time, her eyes searching mine.
I hold her gaze, refusing to look away from her.
You can tell me anything, I want to say.
“Today is a…hard day for me,” she says slowly. “I lost some people I cared about on this day.”
Her response takes me by surprise. “I’m sorry,” I say.
She shrugs. “It was two years ago. Today, and hell, even the few weeks before the anniversary are hard. I keep to myself around that time.”
“Which is why you haven’t talked to me.”
I bite my tongue too late.
She looks away and picks at her purple nail polish. “Something like that. Yeah.”
No wonder she panicked when she met Ryland.
She’s been in pain, hurting for the people she lost, and then her scent match walks into her place of work.
“It gets bad during this month,” she adds, interrupting my train of thought. “So, when there’s any stress on top of that, I kind of shut down.”
It’s all starting to make sense, and guilt eats at me.
When would be the appropriate time to tell her that Ryland and Rowan are my roommates?
She hasn’t mentioned Ryland at all; with everything she’s been going through.
And I haven’t found the right opportunity, since up until now, she has been completely closed off.
Now, she’s opening up to me, and I realize how fucked up this whole situation is.
I’m roommates with her scent match, and potentially another one, and I haven’t told her.
Fuck.
“I like talking to you,” I mutter. “I’m always happy to lend an ear, if you need it.”
“Yeah,” she sighs. “I appreciate it.”
But I know as soon as we walk back out into the bar area, she’ll be back to how she was.
Closed off and shut down.
I want to make the moment last with her as long as possible, even though it’s selfish.
I could tell her about the kittens we’re fostering without mentioning Ryland or Rowan.
I could at least show her pictures.
But then, she’s crossing the room to her purse and fishing for something.
“This one is silver glitter with pawprints on it,” she says, placing the bandage on the table. “Sorry I don’t have something more your style.”
“Who says sparkles aren’t my style?” I ask, stone-faced.
She snickers, then heads back to the bar, leaving me with her faded Omega scent and longing in my chest.
For the rest of the night, Blair seems to be doing better. Her cheerfulness is still an act, but she’s not actively avoiding me as much as she had been.
It’s progress.
But how much of that progress will be ruined once she realizes I haven’t told her the truth about what I know?
I told Ryland and Rowan to back off and give her space.
But it’s fucking torture, and it doesn’t seem like she’s benefitting from not being around us.
We could be there for her.
We could fucking be there, if she would just let us in.
I have no idea who in her life passed away, but my heart aches for her all the same.
“Behind you,” her sweet voice murmurs as she passes, sending a chill down my spine.
Her scent isn’t as bitter anymore. It’s muted, but more Blair than it’s been the last few times I’ve seen her.
She smells like the girl I’ve slowly been falling in love with.
I can’t tell her everything tonight, not now that we’re finally talking again.
Not now that it’s the anniversary of her loss.
How fucked up would that be?
My phone buzzes, and I frown when I see that it’s Rowan is calling me.
It’s two-thirty in the morning. Usually, he’s not up that late.
Luckily, we’re almost done with closing procedures, so I motion to Kora that I’m heading to the back.
“Hey,” I answer. “You good?”
“Something’s wrong with the kittens,” Rowan says quickly, and my stomach falls.
“What? What do you mean?”
“Their tails,” my packmate says. “Their tails are shaking, like rattling. And one won’t stop lifting her paw weird.”
“What?”
Rowan sounds like he might fucking cry, which terrifies me.
“They’re purring, but they’re acting weird. I tried searching online, but it can mean anything. I don’t know what to fucking do. Their tails are rattling, like they’re being fucking shocked,” he croaks. “You need to ask Blair what to do.”
“Shaking?” I repeat, a cold chill racing down my spine.
“Yes! Vibrating, and I don’t know what to do, it could mean anything…”
“Hey, Trav?” Blair asks, entering the backroom. “Can you walk me to my car?”
I dart my eyes to her, and she frowns when she sees my expression. “Is everything okay?” she asks kindly.
“Travis?” Ryland says. He must have taken his brother’s phone. “Hey, the cats are acting weird. Can you ask Blair what to do?”
I can feel Blair watching me, her expression growing concerned. “Trav?” she asks quietly.
“Do they need to go the hospital?” I ask, and watch as Blair’s eyes widen.
“I think we just need a cat expert here,” Ryland says. “Rowan is freaking out. Those are his babies.”
Ryland doesn’t sound too calm, either, but he does a good job covering it up.
“Okay. Just give me half an hour. I’ll be there,” I mutter into the phone.
“Ask Blair. She’ll know what to do.”
Fuck.
I can feel the Omega’s eyes on me, watching me curiously and with concern.
Tonight is not the night to mention the cats or her scent match.
But if something is wrong with the kittens…
“Fine,” I snarl. “But I’m telling her everything and giving her a choice.”
I end the call before they can protest.
“Hey. That didn’t sound so great,” Blair says. Her eyes are brighter than they were earlier, and there’s slightly more color to her face since we had our talk.
But there’s a big chance I might fuck it all up now.
“It’s fine,” I tell her. “You ready to go?”
She has her purse on her shoulders, her head held high, and she nods. “Yup. Lead the way, Trav.”
Whatever ground we’ve gained is about to crumble when the truth comes out.
Every step toward her car is torture, and when she unlocks the doors, I inhale slowly.
“Hey.” I stop her before she opens the car door.
“What’s up?” she asks sweetly, tilting her head slightly.
Fuck.
“I have to tell you something.”
She blinks. “…okay? Shoot.”
There’s no right way to put this. I could still back out, but then I think of the kittens that have uprooted our lives.
“I know you found your scent match.”
That is absolutely not what I should have led with, based on the way her face twists. She grimaces before huffing out a sarcastic laugh.
“Okay? So, what?” Her eyes are fiery. “That’s not your business—”
“Ryland is my packmate, and so is his brother Rowan.”
She takes in a startled breath, staring at me in disbelief. “Oh.”
“I didn’t tell you, because you’re right, it wasn’t my business.” I mutter. “I was trying to give you privacy while you…figured all of that out.” I clear my throat as her gaze falls to the gravel of the parking lot.
“That’s a lot to tell me at two in the morning, Travis,” she mumbles, kicking a pebble and watching it roll. “A lot.”
“It is.”
We stand in silence for a few moments until a car honks at us and headlights flash. Rylee waves at us, her mouth wide in a toothy grin as she peels out of the parking lot.
“What the actual fuck,” Blair sighs. When she looks at me again, her eyes are teary. “What the fuck, Travis.”
“Exactly. What the fuck,” I agree.
She scoffs and waves her hands in exasperation. “Why tell me now? Why…” her voice trails off, then she looks at me accusingly. “Wait, you’ve had Ash this whole time?”
My lip twitches. “Yeah.”
“And you haven’t told me? This whole time?” She wipes quickly at a tear that falls down her cheek.
“I wasn’t sure how to tell you,” I mumble, embarrassed. “I’m still not sure if I should have.”
I sound like a fucking idiot.
“Okay? Wait. That means you’re fostering kittens too, right?” she asks, her voice shaky.
I nod. “And that’s why I told you about this, now.”
She looks at me expectantly, her eyes glassy. “What’s going on?”
“We think something might be wrong with the kittens.”