Chapter 7
SKY
My toes curled over the floor mat in the bathtub as water cranked as hot as I could handle it sluiced down around me like a wave. It beat down on my back and neck, but did little to help the throbbing ache in my skull.
I felt like shit. If this was how it always felt to get shitfaced? Never again. Of course, smacking the back of my head against the kitchen floor when Adam slammed me to the ground probably didn’t help things any.
Just thinking about the glint in his sharp golden eyes made a shiver wind down my spine. His Alpha energy had been so visceral, so raw. My wolf had practically gone belly-up and curled into a ball at the back of my consciousness, wanting nothing to do with the stronger beast.
I hung my head and let the memories from yesterday wash over me. The truth circled the drain. Xan was alive. That was good, but Gracie Howell wanting me dead? That wasn’t so good. Still, after what I did? I couldn’t really blame her.
Clean, but not willing to leave the comfort of the warmth and the steam yet, I sank down onto the floor of the shower and hugged my arms around my knees.
And here comes the tears…
I didn’t know what to do. Adam and Fletcher were giving me an out, but did I really deserve it?
Or was Gracie right and I should be dropped off on the side of the road like yesterday’s trash, forced to survive off scraps? To sell my body in exchange for safety?
Once I’d finally pulled myself together, I got out of the now-cool water and dried off with a towel. I scrubbed my blond hair as dry as I could get it, not sparing a glance in the mirror, knowing I’d hate who I’d see.
I changed into the clothing that Fletcher had brought me. It was a little loose, but I didn’t mind. I pulled the drawstring on the sweatpants tight and tied it off, so they’d stay up. The hoodie dwarfed me, but it was soft and comfortable.
He seemed to know I needed comfort right now. My heart gave a painful throb.
I nursed my hangover with the appropriate amount of aspirin—not the entire bottle—and some Sprite and sleep, napping on the couch with the blankets from last night.
My dreams were blurry, stitched-together things. Too-bright lights and medicinal scents, the sounds of shoes squeaking over waxed tile. Dr. Thompson’s low chuckle, the whir of straps being tightened, followed by, “This is going to hurt you a lot more than it’ll hurt me…”
I jerked awake, my heart in my throat, shaking all over. I lurched to my feet and staggered into the kitchen.
Adam and Fletcher were sitting at the table. Fletcher rose when he saw me. “Sky? Are you okay?” His concern was obvious. “You look like you’ve seen a ghost.”
I shook my head and pursed my lips, but joined them at the table. My heart was still doing double-time in its cage of bones, damn it all. It was just a dream. I picked at the sleeve of the borrowed hoodie, which was pilling a bit.
“Well, how about some soup?” Adam stood and went over to the stove, lifting the lid on a pot I hadn’t even realized was simmering.
Probably because I was still half-nauseous from the hangover. I didn’t really want anything, but when I shook my head, Fletcher clucked his tongue.
“You have to at least taste it,” he insisted. “Adam makes the best soup.”
I grunted in response, hunched over the table. Adam ladled out three bowls of soup and brought them over to the kitchen table. Then he fetched a loaf of what looked to be freshly baked bread, along with a plate of softened butter and a handful of spoons and knives.
He slid a bowl in front of me. I peered down into the meaty-looking soup with chunks of beef, potatoes, and carrots. The steam that rose from the bowl smelled delicious, making my inner-wolf lift his head.
Aware of Adam and Fletcher watching me, waiting for me to taste it, I picked up a spoon and dunked out a small scoop. I blew the heat off of it, then took a bite.
It was the most delicious thing I’d ever tasted in my life.
My eyes flew open, flavors dancing across my tastebuds as I chewed and swallowed. Suddenly, the hunger in my belly roared to life, overriding the nausea, demanding more.
Adam chuckled. “I think he likes it.”
“Of course he does,” Fletcher replied with a wink at me. “What’s not to like?”
Their attention turned to their own dinners, leaving me to mine. I ate every bite and then mopped up the broth with a chunk of homemade bread. When I finished, my bowl looked nearly clean enough to put back in the cupboard.
I leaned back in my seat and licked my lips, my stomach actually sated.
“Good, huh?” Fletcher said.
“Yeah,” I agreed. “Man, is that a family recipe or something?”
Adam’s lip quirked. “No, just something I came up with one day. I enjoy cooking.”
“It’s great.” I paused, tilting my head. “Why isn’t it on the menu at Bixby’s? This would sell like hotcakes.”
“I can’t give all my secret recipes away to the public, now can I?” Adam chuckled.
Fletcher grinned as well, but it softened into a kind smile as he looked at me. “Do you want me to show you your room? You look exhausted.”
Sleep. In a bed. That sounded wonderful. My belly was full, and I was clean, and my headache wasn’t as bad, thanks to the nap. I nodded and followed him down the hall.
He took me to what was obviously their guest bedroom. It had a dresser and a full-sized bed, already made with fresh bedding, and a 32-inch TV mounted on the wall opposite the bed. The remote sat on the bedside table, beside the lamp.
“This is yours,” Fletcher said, “For as long as you stay with us. Adam and I have already talked, and we’ve agreed that this is a safe space for you.
We won’t enter without permission, and we’ll change the doorknob tomorrow so that you can lock it from the inside, for privacy, okay? So you feel safer.”
I nodded slowly, surprised that they’d thought that far ahead. I hadn’t. It was the kind of gesture that made my chest tighten with emotion.
“Thank you,” I murmured.
“Goodnight, Sky. If you need anything, we’ll be just down the hall.” Fletcher rubbed my elbow, then turned and left the room, closing the door behind him.
I stood there for a moment, soaking it all in. I approached the window and latched the lock, then drew the blinds down, just in case.
Because maybe, deep down, a part of me feared the monster still out there, still experimenting on broken twins and doing the devil’s work. Scared that he would come back for me…
After a full night’s rest in a warm bed—minus the nightmares, thank god—I was feeling better. Anxious about the long road ahead, but better.
After breakfast, Adam announced he was taking me over to Jem Murphy’s place so that we could collect my belongings and officially move me in.
My stomach jolted. Damn, that was fast.
I fidgeted in my seat on the ride over, nervous to face my friend. The other Omega had been so supportive of me, so kind and caring, and not only did I not follow his rules, but I stole from him.
Would he be mad at me? Glad I was leaving his life for good? The thoughts made little anxieties scatter through my soul like birds, flying from the treetops after a gunshot.
Adam parked in the drive and gestured for me to go get my stuff. “I’ll wait here,” he assured me. Great. I swallowed my fear and went up to the front door, but before I had the chance to knock, it swung open, startling me.
“Sky!” Jem exclaimed, his dark eyes bright and filled with relief. He threw his arms around me and wrapped me in a fierce hug, right there in the doorway. I allowed the big Omega to fold me into his embrace, breathing in his familiar scent.
“I was so worried about you,” he murmured, holding on for a few moments longer than usual before letting me go. “Come in, come in. Adam already told me what’s going on, so I went ahead and packed up your things for you.”
My things… My stomach knotted and sunk like an anchor. Nerves nipped at my skin. My notebooks. Did Jem read them? Those were my private thoughts and feelings, my stories.
He must’ve sensed my sudden shift in emotion, because he raised a hand. “Hey, don’t worry. I didn’t peek in your journals, you have my word. Scout’s honor.”
I flushed, flustered. “Thanks…”
“You’ll come and visit, right?” Jem asked.
“Yeah, of course,” I told him. “And you can always text or call, and I’ll be working at Bixby’s again soon. Stop in and get lunch sometime.”
“Aww, Sky. Come here, honey.” He wrapped me in another hug, this one even warmer than the last, and I hated the way my eyes pricked with heat.
He helped me haul the few boxes of things out to Adam’s car, and when we were all packed up, he took me by the shoulders and smiled down at me. “Good luck. I want you to be happy, wherever that road might lead. Take care of yourself.”
By the time we made it back home, I was emotionally exhausted. I hauled my stuff to my bedroom, box by box, and set them against the far wall.
And as Fletcher had promised, he’d changed the lock on the door.
I closed myself up in my room and began half-heartedly unpacking things. I put up a couple of posters, set up a few knickknacks.
Then I grabbed one of my notebooks and fished out a pen, and laid in bed. I started writing about what happened. About attacking Xan. About the broken bond between me and River, irreplaceable now. About the loss of my babies, babies who were better off dead, in River’s words.
I curled up in bed, tears slipping silent down my cheeks. My mind wandered back to that terrible place, to the very first time I heard my baby’s cry. A little lamb bleat. That surge of hope and protectiveness, shattered as Dr. Thompson seized the infant from me, took it out of the room and left.
I never heard its cries again.