Chapter 17
Scotty
Iwoke up to a beam of sunlight drilling into my face like it had a personal vendetta against my REM cycle.
For a solid five seconds, I had no idea where I was. Then the pale yellow ceiling came into focus, and my brain helpfully queued up yesterday’s greatest hits sponsored by Emotional Damage?.
Oh right. Emotional carnage. Car accident. Two Alphas. Crying. Threats of murder. Me absolutely losing my mind in a way that would have made past Scotty clutch her pearls. Cool, cool, cool.
I rolled onto my back and stared at the ceiling, bracing myself for the familiar tidal wave of panic.
Nothing came.
That couldn’t be right.
I did not sleep well when I was stressed.
I stress-napped. I stress-scrolled. I stress-laid there and mentally drafted arguments I would never actually say out loud.
But I apparently blacked out for nearly ten uninterrupted hours, like someone had sedated me.
My body felt heavy in that loose, boneless way that only happened after either extreme exhaustion or extremely good sex.
Maybe it was being home.
Or maybe it was the fact that two Alphas had made me come apart so thoroughly that my nervous system decided it had earned a shutdown sequence.
Science should look into orgasms as a prescribed treatment plan.
I turned my head and grabbed my phone off the bedside table. 12:49 p.m.
Jesus.
My phone showed a text from Millie and a blissful absence of messages from Ken—courtesy of Ryder’s blocking skills.
Millie: Are we still on for lunch, or are you still in bed?
I snorted despite myself.
Scotty: Am I that obvious?
Millie: You had an eventful day yesterday. Would make sense for you to sleep in, no?
Scotty: You don’t even know the half of it.
I dropped the phone on my chest and stared at the ceiling again.
I tried to banish the memory of Ryder’s mouth. I attempted to forget the feel of Hunter’s hands. I struggled to ignore how my Omega had betrayed me, practically purring at their touch like some desperate, touch-starved creature.
Five seconds later, I was mentally replaying the whole thing in 4K.
Strictly for scientific analysis, of course.
Twenty minutes later, I pushed open the door to Cubana, one of Ella’s favorite restaurants and a place we often frequented as teenagers.
I spotted her first. You could find that golden hair in a blackout.
Millie was already halfway out of the booth when she saw me, and when she hugged me, she squeezed like she was confirming I was actually here.
Ella’s arms came around me next, and as I settled into the booth, something inside me clicked back into place.
I’d known them since elementary school. They’d witnessed every awkward phase—from metal mouth to raccoon eyes to that time I sobbed on the bathroom floor over Jamie Adams in seventh grade. I couldn’t hide from them if I tried.
“How’s Luca?” I asked Ella.
Her entire face lit up. “He’s amazing. He’s such a happy little boy, Scotty. I don’t think he remembers much about… everything. He still misses his mom, but he understands she’s gone.”
Ella had lost her sister last year after a brutal fight with cancer. It had happened so fast. One minute, we were still pretending treatments might work, and the next, she was gone, leaving behind a three-year-old and no father listed on any paperwork.
Ella didn’t even flinch. She fought through courts, paperwork, and grief to become the person Luca needed. Transforming her apartment, her schedule, her entire existence into a safe harbor for a little boy who’d lost his mom.
And I wasn’t here for her.
“I’m so sorry I wasn’t here for you,” I said quietly. I could blame Ken for isolating me in Blackridge, and he deserved a large portion of that blame, but I could have pushed harder. I could have shown up anyway.
Ella reached across the table and squeezed my hand. “You’re here now.”
“I’ll be the best aunt from now on,” I said. “I’m going to spoil him rotten with ice cream before bedtime and weekend adventures that’ll make you question my judgment as a responsible adult.”
“Does that mean you’re staying?” she asked, her voice filling with cautious optimism.
I gave them a wry smile. “You can return those hideous seafoam dresses. The wedding’s off.”
Then I told them.
I spilled the story like a box of puzzle pieces dumped onto a table—all jumbled up and out of order.
The betrayal of finding Ken with Amber. Throwing my belongings into suitcases.
The long drive with tears blurring the road.
The accident. The spectacular implosion of everything I thought I was building.
By the time I finished, Ella and Millie were calling Ken every creative expletive in their extensive vocabulary. The elderly ladies at the next table clutched their pearls. The businessman by the window glared over his menu. I just sipped my drink because I’ve officially stopped giving a damn.
Ella squeezed my hand. “You didn’t deserve that.”
“No, but at least I found out before I legally attached myself to him.”
“Okay, but we all agree he has to die, right?” Millie asked, completely serious.
I choked on my drink. “Warn a girl.”
“Come on, it’ll be fun. I’ve watched enough true crime to get away with it.”
Ella and I burst out laughing. Millie always chose violence as her first option, and honestly, it was comforting that nothing had changed.
“Hey,” I said once we’d calmed down. “My dad will be working late tonight. Do you want to come over for drinks and movies?”
“I miss movie nights,” Ella gushed. “Luca’s spending the night at a friend’s house, so I’m down.”
“Sure, you wouldn’t rather go to a bar?” Millie asked, waggling her brows. “You know… the best way to get over a man is to get back in the saddle and ride another one?”
I should have laughed and nodded along. Played it cool. Agreed enthusiastically.
Instead, I became suddenly fascinated with my napkin, smoothing it over and over while heat crept up my neck and betrayed me completely.
“Scotty…” Ella started slowly. “Is there something you’re not telling us?”
Millie leaned forward, eyes wide and expectant. “Spill it.”
“There’s no more to the story with Ken,” I assured them quickly. “I wasn’t cheating on him.”
“But…”
I grabbed a tortilla chip and dragged it through the salsa, watching the red drip off the edge as I bought myself a few more seconds of silence that wouldn’t save me.
“Scotty,” Millie whined, and that tone meant she was approximately two seconds away from climbing across the table and shaking it out of me.
I exhaled slowly. “Okay. So. Hypothetically.”
Millie lit up like someone handed her a front row seat to chaos.
“Hypothetically,” I continued carefully, “I may have met two Alphas yesterday on my way back from Blackridge.”
“How did you possibly have time to meet two Alphas?” Ella demanded to know.
“They were driving the car I crashed into,” I muttered.
Millie’s jaw dropped as she leaned forward conspiratorially. “Oh, my god. Let me guess—some brooding officer with handcuffs, or maybe a muscled mechanic who offered to check under your hood?”
“No,” I said, hesitating for only a second before ripping the bandage off. “The car belonged to Hunter Lowell and Ryder Thomas.”
“What?!” they both shouted at the same time.
“Damn, I was going to ask your dad for an introduction,” Millie said wistfully.
I growled at her before I could stop myself, and then immediately blamed my Omega for the reaction. She was a possessive little hussy. Not me.
“There’s an excellent chance you’ll be meeting them at my dad’s wedding.”
“WHAT!?” Ella screeched.
I skipped ahead. I wasn’t ready to tell even my best friends about what happened in the limo ride.
Or later that night. Instead, I detailed everything that followed when I got home — Morgan making out with Dad in the kitchen, the surprise engagement and the fact that Morgan was Ryder’s mother.
I gave them my very honest, slightly icky first impression of her and the emotional whiplash of the entire evening.
They were appropriately horrified and sympathetic, which made me feel slightly better about how I handled things yesterday.
But of course, Millie wouldn’t let things be and circled us right back to the original point like a bloodhound who had caught a scent.
“So,” she said slowly, narrowing her eyes at me. “Did something happen between you and those yummy Alphas?”
I tried to look neutral.
I failed and smiled instead.
Millie slammed her hand on the table so hard our plates rattled. “Damn!” she yelled, drawing more glares from nearby tables. “Don’t stop now. What happened?”