Twenty – Morgan
Twenty
Morgan
I stood in the lobby of Tolliver Yards, digging my nails into the side of my phone case. Even taking my evening pills after Cal had dropped me off hadn’t taken the edge off. Nor had putting on my slouchiest, most oversized sweater and favorite pair of leggings—not when I wished I had Tabitha Redmond’s woolen bit of heaven.
My phone buzzed with constant updates from the sibling group chat. Audra and Ethan had signed up for the Millwright Marathon, sparking a flurry of plans for the inevitable family invasion. Restaurant suggestions poured in alongside ideas for family-friendly activities. Even Kelsey, who was busy networking at a small business event, found time to share a few links.
Jenna, predictably, stayed silent.
But I ignored their chatter, waiting for the only text that mattered.
Here.
Swiping my fob over the security sensor, the frosted glass door slid back, revealing almost six and a half feet of alpha annoyance. Cal strolled in wearing that unfamiliar blue suit that made his clean-shaven jaw look too square and his nose eminently punchable.
The bag of Indian takeout in his hand was his sole redeeming quality.
“Let’s go,” I said, turning away, not in the mood for pleasantries.
“Nice set-up,” Cal commented as we headed toward the elevator, nodding at the security cameras on the ceiling. “Ever had any issues? ”
“Nothing major. But that’s why we hired the best firm in the city.”
A pack with three kids cut in front of us, dripping wet from the pool and wrapped in colorful beach towels. Foam noodles and pool toys jutted out from the parents’ overburdened arms. The moment the chlorine hit Cal was unmistakable, nostrils flaring, blinking away a wince.
I couldn’t relate.
Cal slowed down to avoid crowding them and focused on the Tolliver Yards historical display. Before-and-after photos showcased the power of Jacobi’s magic wand—turning gaping roof holes into skylights and piles of broken bricks into a luxurious sauna.
My phone kept exploding with notifications. Enough. Time for the mute button.
“Hey,” Cal said, tapping the front of the case and drawing my attention to a line of text. “Gold Medal Investment Realty, co-owned by Morgan Van Daal and Jacobi Zeldin?”
“Yeah.” I silenced the sibling chat with a sharp jab of my finger. “Told him it was a stupid name.”
He stepped closer, his gaze holding more pride than surprise. “This—this is all yours?”
“Mhm. Jacobi’s renovation ideas may seem insane, but they always work out.”
Cal ran a finger along the glass panel, circling our company’s logo. “If he’s the creative visionary, what does that make you?”
“Voice of reason. Bad cop. Piggy bank.”
His mouth quirked into a half-smile. “Impressive.”
“Get used to it.”
“Already am.” Cal’s gaze shifted back to the lobby, taking it in with new appreciation as we continued toward the elevator. “Does he live here, too?”
“No, he moved to California a few months ago.” I felt the absence of my best friend like a phantom limb. “Used to live across the hall.”
Cal quizzed me about amenities and security arrangements until we reached the sixth floor. Like most first-time visitors, his gaze immediately went up, drawn to the soaring ceiling. Exposed beams crisscrossed overhead, where fat raindrops plunked against the skylight.
I pressed my thumb to the scanner on my front door, unlocking it just as Cal’s head whipped around. His chest expanded to capacity as he took a series of deep inhalations, nostrils flaring as he focused on the entrance to unit 602. I wondered whose scent had given the game away.
“Who did you say lives there?”
“My current neighbor? I didn’t. ”
He stared at their door, taking three more deliberate breaths, then turned to me, studying my face with unusual scrutiny. “Why?”
“Dinner first,” I said firmly, keeping the curious Tenny at bay with my foot as I pushed the door open. “I never submit to interrogations on an empty stomach.”
***
Cal sat on the living room floor, back against the couch, taunting Kip with a wand toy. By the time we sat down to eat, his suit jacket and tie were already gone. The more lamb curry he ate, the more casual he became until the top three buttons of his collar were undone, his sleeves were pushed up to his elbows, and his shirt hung untucked.
Curled up on the opposite loveseat, I rubbed Tenny’s belly and waited. Cal had been quiet since I told him how I’d discovered my neighbors’ identities.
I’d even briefly mentioned my history with Wyatt. The abridged version—just enough to make our failed, fledgling relationship seem like nothing. A fitting amount, in the end.
“They really don’t know?”
I shrugged. “Don’t you think Alijah or Owen would have said something if they did?”
Kip snagged the toy’s fluffy tail and rolled onto his back, kicking his legs as he tried to rip it to shreds. Cal gave a few tugs before surrendering the wand to Kip’s ministrations. He rummaged through the toy basket and pulled out a fuzzy green ball, lobbing it to the far end of the kitchen. Kip shot after it in a blur of fur and determination.
Tenny, on the other hand, stayed curled up, his eyes barely tracking the ball when it flew by.
“Do you want a pack?”
The question caught me off-guard. It wasn’t something I’d asked myself in years. “Where’d that come from?”
Cal nodded toward Kelsey’s gallery wall of black-and-white family photos lining the staircase. “Just curious.”
“I did. Before.” I scratched Tenny under his chin, earning a rusty purr. “Omegas can be high maintenance. They shouldn’t require maintenance.”
“Care to expand on that?”
I shifted, drawing my knees closer to my chest. “Showed a guy my medical record once. Kelsey keeps a hard copy, just in case. It was enough to fill six binders—three inches thick. He never called me again.” My fingers trailed along Tenny’s side, but he rolled onto his back, pawing my arm for belly rubs. “Pretty sure we’re up to nine volumes now. Literal baggage.”
Cal tossed a catnip mouse from hand to hand, his expression steady, observing me without judgment. “What else?”
“Isn’t it the same for most people living with a TBI?”
“Humor me.”
“Don’t do well with loud noises or bright lights. I don’t cook. Sometimes I can’t drive. I’ve got calendar reminders for the stupidest things—washing the cat’s water fountain, buying Narwhal gear for the winter. Neither of which I’ve managed to do this week.”
The catnip mouse flew over my shoulder toward the front door. Kip emerged from the shadowy realm behind the kitchen island, skidding on the floor as he raced after it. Tenny flopped onto his side, lazily debating whether a moment of fun was worth sacrificing his comfort.
“Kelsey helps out a lot?”
“That’s an understatement. She’s a veritable saint. And I probably don’t even know the half of it.”
A long pause stretched between us as Kip padded back into the seating area, eyes locked on Cal, eagerly waiting for his next challenge.
“Are you happy in sports medicine?” Cal flicked a toy in Tenny’s direction, only for Kip to leap up and intercept it mid-air.
“Yeah, for the most part. It scratches the itch to help people. Keeps me active.”
“But it wasn’t your first choice.” Not a question. I wondered what I’d done for him to figure that out.
“No, orthopedic surgery was,” I admitted without regret. Changing specialties had been necessary, and I’d made peace with it a long time ago. “But I don’t have the coordination or stamina for it anymore. So, I found a specialty that could…accommodate me.”
Cal’s response was sharp, just skirting the line of unprofessional. “Workplace accommodations don’t usually include skipping heats.”
He tossed another catnip mouse toward Tenny—but I grabbed it first. Tenny rolled over, ears swiveled backward, mouth agape. His expression made it clear—that it was his toy to ignore, not mine to steal.
“Not your patient, not your business.” I lobbed the mouse back at Cal. “Aren’t you here to talk about Garvey?”
He let the toy bounce off his shoulder. “Do you like the smell of burnt matches?”
“Does anyone? ”
“You tell me.”
My temper flared, so close to tearing through my restraints. “Don’t be obtuse.”
“Well, you’re clearly fine with the smell of mint and brownies.”
Why was he bringing up Kelsey’s and Rory’s scent signatures? I glared at him. “Of course, I’m okay with my family’s pheromones.”
Cal held my gaze. Perfectly calm and open, as if he wasn’t testing me. “What did the hallway smell like to you earlier?”
Had he discovered my anosmia? No, he couldn’t have. I swallowed my urge to deflect, ignoring the worried sparks threatening to ignite a full blaze in my gut.
For once, I didn’t have to lie—entirely. “Boxwoods.”
“What else?”
“Tea.”
“And?”
A gentle push was still a push—a challenge. My chest tightened. A restless nerve in my right eye twitched.
There was only so much I could take.
I shot off the loveseat and strode into the dining room, yanking Cal’s jacket from the back of a chair.
“You should go.” I held the jacket toward the door, my grip firm, tone razor-sharp—even sharper than I’d intended. Not that I minded. Hopefully, I’d cut him to the quick, and he’d drop this line of questioning.
He eased onto one knee, a quiet pop betraying that football had damaged more than just his nose. Cal rose to his feet with deliberate slowness, thumbs hooked in his pants pockets as he padded over, trying to pass off restraint for ease.
“Morgan—”
“Please leave.”
“You still smell like him.”
Even my control wasn’t strong enough to withstand a revelation of that magnitude. My head snapped up, revulsion on full display.
“I thought your office was on fire,” Cal said, his voice rough, layered with gravel as he fought to contain his own carefully controlled emotions. “That’s how thick the sulfur stench was in the hallway.” Tendons flexed in his neck, tension roiling beneath his skin. “Had to sit in that meeting room, all fucking afternoon, watching you be brilliant—winning those money-grubbing assholes over— smelling like another man. Not me.”
His hand rose, fingers hovering just shy of my cheek. Haunting me with the ghost of his touch .
“Why can’t it be me, Morgan?”
“You—” My resistance faltered.
Closing my eyes, I froze, holding myself perfectly still. Terrified that if I moved my broken head too far in any single direction, my perspective would shift—and his presumptuous actions would become protection, his tactile sweaters a haven for my touch-starved omega, and his lapses in professionalism the first stirrings of real feelings.
I steeled myself, forcing my eyes open, meeting his wounded hazel gaze. “You know why.”
His fingers crumpled into a fist, as if to eliminate my objection, to leave no obstacle between us. An impossible notion.
“I’d never do anything to jeopardize your work. Or mine. But I’m interested in you. Can’t stop thinking about you. To the point of stupidity—obviously. You saw the list.”
“Pardon me if I value my career more than a few threatening scribbles.”
“I could make it happen, you know. All of it. Everything on that list. One word from you, and I’ll turn Garvey’s life into a living hell.”
“No.” I didn’t hesitate to reject the offer. “Let the university handle it.”
Unable to withstand the weight of his earnest intensity, my gaze broke away, seeking refuge in the towering shadow along the fireplace. Forcing myself to breathe. “And find someone else.”
“Someone who deserves me, you mean,” he said with a pained smile, taking another cursed step closer, “because they can smell how much I want them, and you can’t?”
Too much. Cal always knew too much. But I wouldn’t admit it—not to him, not to anyone—no matter how true his words were.
Because Cal had that look on his face. The pinched, almost pitying expression that every other alpha put on for good measure when they swore it wasn’t a big deal. Pheromones weren’t everything. They could make it good for me.
Until their scent failed to inspire arousal. Right before they got angry.
I held out his jacket again, my arm surprisingly steady despite the fire raging inside. “You need to leave.”
Choking back his reluctance, Cal took the jacket and headed for the door. Kip trotted after him, still eager to play with his large new friend. I scooped him up before he could dart into the hallway.
“Shh,” I whispered to my squirming bundle, letting him half-climb onto my shoulder. Kip settled—sort of. His ears swiveled forward, eyes fixed on Cal, as if hoping he’d lob one of his dress shoes for him to chase instead of putting it back on.
“I didn’t intend for…” Cal gave a terse wave toward the dining room. “For that. I just wanted to make sure you got home safely and ate something. Took whatever it is you need for headaches.” A knowing expression—so typical, so infuriating—disarmed me. “You hide it well. But once you know what to look for…”
The door opened, allowing the harsh overhead lighting from the hallway to intrude. I recoiled, squinting at Cal rather than burying my face in Kip’s fur.
With a final tight smile, Cal slipped away. “Secret’s safe with me.”
I stood there, huffing into Kip’s side as I struggled to regulate my breathing, when Tenny’s solid form butted against my ankles, croaking out a series of grumbly mewls.
Laughter diffused the impending explosion.
“You’re right. Who the hell does the pheromone stud think he is?”