19. Aerin
19
AERIN
I t’s the next day after we spoke with Ivy and Connall. I’ve been quiet most of the morning and Bennett came over after lunch so he could talk with Mack.
Helena wasn’t feeling well, so she went to spend time with Adela and get some of her magical ginger tea to help with her nausea.
Outside, in the backyard, I suck in a deep breath and release it on a long exhalation.
Mack hadn’t wanted me to come outside at all, probably because he knew I wouldn’t be coming out here to do anything but overthink and worry about things I don’t have the power to change. But I needed peace, I needed quiet, and I needed time to mourn the loss of my powers in the garden.
I’ve been clinging to the belief that Ivy would tell me that my powers being in a flux was a pregnancy thing. That this was a normal thing to happen to omegas, and I think that’s why a part of me wasn’t eager to ask her about it in case she told me that this was something else.
Now she’s confirmed a fear that’s been growing inside me for weeks: something is really, truly wrong with me. Maybe something permanent.
My powers were like a lit candle in a wind, occasionally there, blowing out for a bit, but I knew it was still there. I felt like it was still there.
And now?
Nothing.
I rest my hand on my belly. “Is this you, Thumper?” I ask quietly. “I’m really hoping it is.”
Of course, there’s no response. I never believed I would get one from my unborn baby. But I keep grappling for a reason this is happening and I can’t think of one.
Is this because I’m a powerful omega and Shane is a powerful alpha? His dad, Iain, seemed to think we would have a baby that would be even more powerful. So did Nolan Lonergan, the former Alpha of the Lonergan Pack.
I know I shouldn’t live my life according to labels. That it’s not healthy. Adela is right when she says it’s important to live in the moment, and so is Mack, when he said this might be a period of my life where my body is too busy growing a human to focus on being an omega.
But when being an omega is all you know how to be, it’s hard to tell yourself that labels don’t matter.
I study the white plastic lounger near the bottom of the garden, and then I turn to look in the direction where I once heard a man talking to his horse. He was comforting the horse as he brushed it.
I shouldn’t have been able to hear him from here. Our closest neighbor is so far away that Mack hadn’t hidden his surprise when I told him what I’d overheard. I’d been reluctant to admit at the time that I’d been trying to eavesdrop on his and Bennett’s conversation, but he hadn’t cared.
He’d been proud and amazed that I could do such a thing.
That’s the Aerin I want to be again.
Yes, I’m excited about being a mom and for Mack to be a dad, but I don’t want to lose who I was before, either.
I briefly recall that weird sensation I had after we came face to face with a black bear. The more time that passes, the more convinced I am that I didn’t see anything at all. So if I wanted to go lay down on that lounger and spend the next several minutes trying to get my powers to work again, now would be the perfect time to do it.
I don’t want to let go of old Aerin without trying to fight for her.
Stiffening my spine, and hoping I’m not setting myself up for more frustration, I walk down the garden and get myself settled on the lounger before resting my hands on my chest and closing my eyes.
Mack said that I should take a more relaxed approach to my powers and maybe he’s right.
I’ve been reaching and fumbling and struggling to force it to do what I want. And maybe that’s why. I never reached for it before. It was just there. Maybe I need to let it come to me.
It’s like plunging my hand into sand.
Nothing is there.
And for the first time since my powers started flickering like a candle in a wind, I worry that the candle has gone out and I will never be able to light it again. That I will forever be the omega who could once do things no one else could, but then all that power just… fizzled out.
But I refuse to give up.
I remember the last time I overheard the man with the horse over a distance I shouldn’t have. That feeling of my body not being important anymore.
I had a headache, almost like the one I’m starting to get now.
The headache got worse the longer I strained to hear the neighbor.
My temples pound, and I wince but refuse to let go of that feeling. It’s almost like I can touch… something.
I just need to?—
Liquid drips onto my top lip.
Automatically, I lift my hand to swipe it away, and then I smell it.
Blood.
I wrench my eyes open, take in the blood on my hand and, for the longest time, I struggle to believe what I’m seeing.
My nose is bleeding, and I never have nosebleeds.
My head is pounding with the most intense headache I’ve ever had in my life when a man says, “I don’t know what you’re doing, but maybe you should stop.”
I tumble off the lounger and onto the grass as I twist to face the man standing feet away from me—far too close. I should have known he was there before now.
Fern and wild berries. His scent is undeniably shifter.
He takes a step closer, raising his hand. “Are you?—”
“Stay away!” I scramble to my feet as I back up. “Don’t touch me.”
The unfamiliar man with longish light brown hair and green eyes in blue jeans and a black sweater is young, maybe around my age, early to mid-twenties.
He retreats a half step, lowering his hand. “I won’t hurt you.”
I don’t believe him.
He’s a shifter, and the last time a male shifter stepped through that same gap in the trees at the bottom of the garden, it was Shane who’d come to Winter Lake to drag me back to a life I hadn’t wanted.
I still have the memory of Shane shoving me into his car and slamming the door shut before he even checked to make sure I had both legs in.
“ Mack !” I bolt for the back door, ripping it open and practically falling inside as footsteps pound toward me.
Mack barely beats Bennett through the den doorway. His eyes skate over my face and body as if to check I’m okay.
His gaze lands on my bleeding nose, and his expression hardens. “What?—”
“Shifter,” I pant, swiping more blood from my dripping nose. “Bottom of the garden.”
Jeez, this is ridiculous. I literally took ten steps and I’m panting like I just ran a marathon.
Mack nudges me to one side. “Stay here, love.”
He charges out, closely followed by Bennett.
“Look, I didn’t mean to scare her, but I need your help. Please .”
I was not expecting that.
I was actually looking forward to the stairs if it meant I was safe, but that tone…
Now that I’m no longer terrified by the man who surprised me, I start paying attention to something I should have noticed before now.
I know desperation when I hear it.
My powers don’t work, and I gave myself a nosebleed trying to spark something, but I don’t need my powers to tell this man—whoever he is—is desperate for help.
I hurry back outside.
Mack has the man by the throat when I step out. “Mack, it’s okay, let him go.”
“Aerin…”
“No, it’s okay,” I interrupt, taking another step outside. I wasn’t expecting Mack to have him by the throat. With everything that’s been happening lately, he has every reason to be on edge. “He could have hurt me if he wanted to, but he didn’t. I don’t know if we can trust him yet, but I think we should listen to him and see what he wants,” I plead.
When Mack looks at my nose, I try not to think about how much blood I’ve smeared over my face. We’re going to need to have a conversation about that soon. But after.
“It wasn’t him,” I tell him. “This is something else. We’ll talk about it after, but this wasn’t his fault,” I repeat.
This , I think, is the blood that marks the end of my powers.
Maybe even forever.
Mack’s hand tightens around the unknown shifter’s throat as Bennett stands close by. I hold my breath as Mack stares at the stranger, and I hope I’m not about to watch a desperate man die.