38. KATIE
Chapter thirty-eight
KATIE
“ A re you sure, I’m excellent at washing hair.” Max raises his eyebrows as he pauses outside my doorway. We’d kept our fingers tangled together the whole ride home, relaxation wrapping me in a cloud. But once we walked into the house, the fears and anxieties came rushing back. I can’t get close to him; I’m leaving .
I bite my lip. It’s tempting. So fucking tempting. I want him near, damnit. Beneath his suave exterior is a puppy dog that just wants to cuddle. And part of me wants all those cuddles. All of that softness and care.
But I don’t need him. I can do this myself –and I should. We already have too much closeness. It will only hurt more when he’s gone if I get too close now.
“I can wash my hair myself, thank you,” I say, playfully batting away his roaming fingers.
Some invisible line has been breached, some slight hole in the emotional armor I thought was intact around me. And this grinning, prize fighting gym bro has weaseled his way in.
Maybe it’s the post-amazing-orgasm endorphin-high, but part of me doesn't care. Part of me likes it. Fuck.
“Of course you can wash your own hair. It’s not a matter of capability, Tough Girl. It’s a gift. Letting us take care of you. Not because you can’t, but because we can .”
He gently strokes the pad of his thumb across my bottom lip. A tingle of red hot awareness zings through my veins, lighting me up. My knees wobble, my core clenches, and if I just lean in a little closer, I can find some friction to ease the growing ache between my thighs…
I snap back, pulling away from where I’d started nuzzling into his chest.
Being an Omega has turned me into a horndog. My thighs are already slick from a new wave of arousal.
Max laughs and kisses the tip of my nose.
“You’re not a lone soldier anymore, Katie,” he says, before pressing a tender kiss to my chapped lips.
Suddenly the moment is too close, too much. The nearness isn’t arousing, it’s stifling. I’m supposed to be keeping them at arm's length. I’m supposed to be finding a way for my sisters and I to get back home. Not distracted by hot men with wicked tongues.
I take a step back, out of the envelope of his heat and his whiskey and leather scent.
“I’ll see you at dinner,” I say, pressing back into my open doorway.
A brief look of hurt passes like a storm cloud over his features. Then they smooth out and he nods.
“Can’t wait to taste round two.” He winks, before sauntering down the hall toward the stairs. I slip into the cool room, closing the door and sinking to the ground. I rest my head against the door.
What am I doing?
Being with Max was… well it was amazing. It felt so good to be wanted, to be seen and to have someone want your pleasure as much as you want theirs.
But I am leaving . It’s only going to hurt us both to let anything more continue. I rub my eyes with the heels of my palms, and realize that I reek of sex and our mingled scents.
What a fucking day. The fight with Roark feels like a week ago, not a few hours.
I spring up and rush to my bathroom. Flicking on the shower, I turn it up until a billow of steam escapes over the glass door. I strip, tossing Max’s borrowed clothing– he always keeps spare gym clothes in his office, thank goodness– into the far corner.
I need to scrub the smell off– the smell of Roark, the smell of sex, even the comforting spicy scent of Max. I need to just be clean and fresh.
Just me.
I lather up my skin with the bar of soap that vaguely smells of sandalwood and jasmine, and rub my arms with a washcloth until my skin is pink. Working my nails roughly into my scalp, I lather the shampoo twice before finally relenting. I gently coat the ends of my hair in conditioner and sink to the shower floor.
I can’t wash away what’s happened. Not what happened with Max today, or Roark for that matter.
Not what happened to my sisters and I. We’ve been gone for just over a week– search parties will be looking for us. If we don’t get back soon, reintegrating and explaining what happened without potentially being tagged as mentally unwell will be more and more difficult.
“Yes, officer, I was taken to a planet where I became a pussy goddess and hot men wanted to give me five orgasms a day. Yes, I left voluntarily to return to Earth.” Right . How would you even try to explain that?
I press my forehead against the frosted glass, letting the steam wrap around me.
I wish I could wash away this whole misadventure. Wash away the last week. The last six months since mom died. The last year, since my deployment and the blast that ripped my knee to hell.
If I could just wash all of that away, and start fresh...
But I’d probably still be on deployment, still exiled to some tent logistics base, with excel sheets of how much toilet paper and bars of soap each soldier needs for the next three months.
I sigh. Would that really be better?
Maybe not for me, but what about for the others?
Molly Beth needs medical care– her lungs are weak. Illnesses the rest of us would shrug at could devastate her. Do they even have the right treatments here? Can she get an inhaler refill?
Norah was all set to start her biology program in California– doesn't she want to return to her life and all her goals?
The gnawing need to talk to my sisters, to hear their voices, propels me out of the safety of my steaming shower.
With the water off and a fluffy white robe on, I feel marginally more human. And not at all ready to face Max and the other Alphas downstairs for family dinner.
I grab the slim phone and immediately dial Molly Beth. I need to know if they’ve managed to replace her inhaler, or find breathing treatments that work on her lungs. A knot of anxiety builds in my chest. How could I have let myself get so distracted?
“Katie!” The screen blips on and Molly Beth’s smiling face greets me. “Hold on, let me get the others.” She turns to holler over her shoulder.
“Maddie and Layla aren't here,” she says, offering me a sympathetic frown. “I forgot they both went downstairs for class. But Norah and I are here.” She smiles brightly.
“Classes?” I raise my eyebrows.
Norah slides in next to Molly Beth, her purple glasses briefly reflecting a ping of light. “Layla is taking a dance class– I guess they still do formal dancing like the waltz and other folk dances. Most Omegas who want to land an Old Family pack learn them.” Norah says, then shrugs.
“There’s the sweetest male Omega who’s in the dance class,” Molly Beth says, her eyes twinkling. “His name is Orion, and he’s one of three male Omegas here at the Conservatory. Oh and he loves baking– he’s been showing me some of the traditional cookie recipes. They use a lot of lemon in the baking where he’s from,” Molly Beth says quickly, her words nearly tripping over themselves.
“There are male Omegas?” I ask before thinking better of it. I don’t need to know the ins and outs of Omegas and Alpha dynamics. I need to get us home.
Molly Beth laughs at me. “Of course! And there are female Alphas– oh but you left before a lot of our classes. Katie, we had an entire day on heat cycles. It is going to be intense. Aurelia said that our need for release is going to amp up in the weeks before our Heat. We’ll need sex more than once a day!” Molly Beth is wide-eyed as she bites her lower lip before smiling.
“Hopefully we’ll be home before any of us has to worry about that,” I say.
Her face falls a little. I’m surprised; I thought she was impatient to get home. “I called to make sure you both were okay. That you were getting medical treatment.”
Molly Beth nods, her bubbly disposition closing in on itself again. Damn . She’s so bright and cheerful when she feels safe, but the minute she feels uncomfortable everything fades.
Norah answers instead. “They’ve been giving her full breathing treatments every morning. She hasn’t wheezed at all since she started them.”
“Oh?” That’s good; but I am concerned about whatever they're giving her. What would alien medication do on our very human bodies?
“How are you feeling?” I look at Molly Beth, who is frowning at her lap.
“Good. No really, Katie I do feel better. I haven't needed my inhaler once since starting the breathing treatment. They have an X-ray machine– they call it something else, but it’s basically the same– and they’ve been monitoring my lungs. I think some of the damage from all my bouts of bronchitis and pneumonia– even the pleurisy I had two years ago– are starting to heal.” She offers me a shallow smile.
“Dr. Winecroft said I would likely always have weak lungs, and need regular breathing treatments. But that I wouldn’t be inhaler dependent. Isn’t that amazing?”
It is amazing. The lung infection that Molly Beth had two years ago almost stole her away from us. Her regular doctors ignored her increasing wheezing and coughing, saying it was just another round of pneumonia. I was on deployment, and mom was already starting cancer treatment. We didn’t do enough to advocate for Molly Beth until she was hospitalized.
I swallow thickly. I failed her then, I won't fail her now.
“That’s wonderful,” I manage, though my throat is tight.
A bell dings lightly in the background and both of my sisters look up.
“That’s the dinner bell,” Norah says. “We should go.”
“Sure,” I say. My chest is tight. God, I miss them. “You call me if you need anything, or if they are pressuring you to take something you don’t want to take. Okay?”
“Katie, we’re fine ,” Molly Beth says, shaking her head, her red curls bouncing around her face. “Honestly, I am more fine here than back home. Please don’t worry about us.”
“No can do, Little Bit,” I say, using an old nickname. “It’s my job as the oldest sister to over-function and over-worry.”
She snorts. “Mission accomplished, then.” But she smiles, whatever sadness that was weighing her lifting. Good.
“I love you all. Tell Mads and Lala, I called.”
“Will do, love you too,” Molly Beth says, and Norah waves over her shoulder.
Then they wink out, the screen returning to a placid silver.
I flop back onto my bed, my mind spiraling.
Molly Beth is doing better here. Her lungs are healing .
But we can’t stay. We need to go home. To our lives, our friends.
Right?