Chapter 28
Sitting in the back of Loz's limo with a wilting pint of cookie dough ice-cream and what feels like an unexploded bomb sitting on my phone is less fun than you might think. I must have drafted—and deleted—fifty different messages. To Ralph, to Seb, to all of them.
Hi, it's Dellie
Hey, so about the other night
Uh, so I'm just gonna say it, I wanna lick your chest
Nothing feels right. My omega is screaming, convinced all she has to do is call and they will come running. I'm trying to calm her down, explain it isn't that simple, that we—that I—hurt them by assuming I knew what was best for them.
Arg.
I delete my latest attempt—hey, so wanna get naked again? —and call Loz. She picks up on the second ring.
"Got the ice-cream, babes?"
I smile. Loz's priorities always get a little clearer when her heat's approaching.
"Yep. It might be a bit sad by the time I get back, though. The shop didn't have a cooler bag."
There's a distinctly omega whine, followed by a low curse. "How long 'til you're home, babes?"
I glance out the window. "Maybe five minutes?"
A crackly huff, followed by another muttered curse over the unfairness of thermodynamics, rattles in my ear. I snort.
"Sorry, Loz. Lord Kelvin clearly has it in for you."
She chuckles. "I'm blaming fuckin' Clausius. He's the bastard with the vendetta. That fucker's had it in for me since Year Eleven physics."
I laugh. "Shouldn't be too much longer. Then you can gorge on cookie dough ice-cream and rant about any physicist of your choosing. But, um, speaking of ranting—"
"You better have something worth ranting about, babes. Fuck! I forgot to ask. Fucking oestrogen. Sorry, babes. How did it go with Ralph's mum?"
"Uh… she was really nice. Um, she gave me their numbers, and—"
"Well? What did they say when you called?"
I lick my lips. "Um. Still working on that part."
A screech erupts from the speaker. "What the fuck is wrong with you, babes? Why the fuck are you calling me and not them—"
I sigh. "I just… I need your help, Loz. I have to make it right but I don't know how. Help me figure out what to tell them. I don't know what to say—"
"Dellie. You are fucking ridiculous, sometimes. When you're back—" I hear her intercom chime. "Shit, babes. Sorry, hang on a tic."
Faint footsteps echo through the phone. "Whaddaya want?" I hear distant, crackly, deep voices. "Get to the bloody point." More male voices crackle through the intercom.
"Shit, you're here early." They start to speak again, but she cuts them off.
"You'd all better just come in… Ms Treloar will be with you shortly.
Front door's open, let yourselves in, turn left at the corridor and down the stairs—nope.
Shut it. All of youse. I'm not having a conversation over the fucking crackle box. "
There's another long beep, and a rustle as Loz picks up the phone again. "Ugh, I gotta go babes. Pack X is here a day early."
My forehead puckers into a frown. I know I confirmed with them on Saturday. "Did they say why?"
"They were fucking rambling on about something over the fucking intercom. Dunno. Babes, hurry up and get home so I can have some ice-cream to make up for having to deal with alphas who can't read a fucking calendar, would ya? Shit. They're coming up the drive now."
I laugh. "I'm literally two minutes away. See you soon, Loz."