chapter EIGHT #2
I dig deeper, accessing athletic databases through my student account. Transfer applications. Medical clearances. The standard forms all athletes file when changing schools.
There. A small discrepancy in her medical files. Her designation is listed as Beta, but there's a notation about "ongoing prescription management" that's typically only included for Alphas with aggression issues or Omegas on suppressants.
And a sealed record from Westlake that would require an administrative override to access.
I lean back, mind racing. The pieces fit together too neatly to ignore. The careful distance. The neutralizing agents. The sealed records. The sudden transfer.
Reese Callahan is an Omega hiding as a Beta.
The question is why? And what happens when the team finds out?
Because they will find out. Eight Alphas in close quarters with a suppressed Omega? It's not a matter of if, but when. Especially with Jackson's heightened sensitivity to Omega scents.
Jackson. I close my eyes, picturing his reaction when he realizes what she is. After Meredith. After everything that happened.
This will destroy him. Or force him to finally face the past he's been running from for three years.
And what about me? Why did her scent affect me when I've never responded to an Omega before?
And Gray, god, our territorial captain who's already showing signs of possessiveness over her.
Bo, with his protective instincts. Beckett, who flirts reflexively but watches her with genuine interest. Hell, even Tyler who keeps his conquests so close to the chest, they might as well not even exist, has been watching her with open curiosity. The entire team dynamic could implode.
Or transform into something entirely new.
I've always been the one who sees ahead, who plans for contingencies. But this situation has too many variables, too many potential outcomes to predict.
My door opens without a knock. Jackson stands there, fresh from the shower, his hair still damp. His expression is unreadable, but there's tension in every line of his body.
"She left her notebook," he says without preamble. "In the common room."
"And?"
"She's an Omega. On suppressants." He runs a hand through his hair. "Suppressants that are about to run out."
So he knows, too. Of course he does. He probably scented her before any of us, has just been in denial.
"What are you going to do?" I ask.
"Nothing. It's not my business." His jaw clenches. "I just thought you should know."
"Because of us?"
Pain and irritation cross his face. "Because you're the strategist. You need to calculate what this means for the team."
"And what about what it means for you?" I stand, moving toward him. "After Meredith—"
"Don't." He steps back. "This isn't the same."
"Isn't it? Another Omega coxswain hiding her designation from her team?"
"Reese isn't Meredith." His voice hardens. "And I'm not having this conversation."
"You never do." I snap, frustration building. "We fuck, you leave, nothing changes. Maybe it's time something did."
"What's that supposed to mean?"
"It means I'm tired of this pattern, Jackson. Tired of watching you run from anything that might actually matter."
He goes very still. "Is that what you think this is? Running?"
"Isn't it?"
For a long moment, he says nothing. Then, "You felt it too. Her scent. When it broke through."
The abrupt change of subject throws me. "Yes."
"And?" His eyes search mine.
"And what?"
"Did it affect you?"
I consider lying. Consider protecting this undefined thing between us by pretending indifference. But we've never lied to each other, not about the important things.
"Yes," I admit. "It did."
He nods once, as if confirming something to himself. "Me too."
The admission costs him. I can see it in the tightness around his eyes, the rigid set of his shoulders.
"So what do we do?" I ask.
"Nothing," he repeats. "She's hiding it for a reason. It's not our place to out her."
"And when her suppressants run out? When she goes into heat around eight unbonded Alphas?"
His expression darkens. "That's her problem."
"Is it? Because from where I'm standing, it looks like it's about to become all of our problem."
"Then she'll have to leave." He turns to go. "Just like Meredith did."
"And if I don't want her to leave?"
The words escape before I can stop them. Jackson freezes, his back to me.
"What did you say?"
I swallow hard. "I said, what if I don't want her to go?"
He turns slowly, his expression unreadable. "Since when do you care about some Omega?"
"I don't know," I answer honestly. "But I'm curious enough to want to find out."
Something shifts in his eyes. Hurt, quickly masked by anger. "Then maybe you should go to her room instead of mine next time."
"That's not what I meant."
"Isn't it?" He steps closer, looming over me. "You just said her scent affected you. That you don't want her to leave."
"That doesn't negate this," I gesture between us. "Whatever this is."
"And what exactly is this, Eli? Since you seem to have it all figured out."
I don't have an answer. We've never defined it, never needed to. But now, with Reese in the equation, the lack of definition feels like a void neither of us knows how to bridge.
"I don't know," I finally admit. "But I'm not ready to end it. Are you?"
The anger drains from him, leaving something more vulnerable in its wake. "No."
Relief washes through me. "So we figure it out. Together."
"And Reese?"
"We keep her secret. For now." I step closer, bridging the gap between us. "But Jackson, if we're going to make it through whatever's coming, you need to deal with what happened at Hampton Hills. The real story, not the version you tell yourself."
His face closes off again. "I dealt with it."
"No, you buried it. There's a difference."
For a moment, I think he'll walk out again. Instead, he surprises me by reaching out, his hand curving around the back of my neck. The touch is gentler than his usual grip, almost tender.
"Not tonight," he says quietly. "Please."
I nod, understanding what he's asking. Time. Space. The conversation isn't over, but it's on hold.
"Stay," I whisper. "Don't run this time."
His thumb traces the line of my jaw. "I'm not running. I'm right here."
When he kisses me, it's different from earlier. Less desperate, more deliberate. As if he's learning me all over again, or perhaps for the first time.
I respond in kind, allowing myself to sink into the moment. To put aside analysis and strategy and simply feel.
But even as Jackson guides me back toward the bed, a corner of my mind calculates the cascading effects of what we've discovered. An Omega coxswain. Suppressants running out. Eight unbonded Alphas, each already drawn to her in their own way.
And in the middle, Jackson and I, navigating this undefined thing between us that suddenly seems both more fragile and more essential than ever.
Whatever's coming, it's going to change everything. The only question is whether we'll be strong enough to weather the storm together, or if we'll fracture along fault lines that have been there all along, just waiting for the right pressure to split us apart.