Chapter Sixteen – Mason
My brother comes to my room just before lunch with a disturbed look on his face. I wasn’t doing anything in particular—I never am—but still, I don’t appreciate him barging in whenever he wants to. I really should start locking the damn door.
I’m sitting on the edge of my bed, openly glaring at his intrusion, when I huff, “What the fuck do you want?” Exhaustion is starting to wear at me, but still, I can’t fucking sleep. It sucks.
“Jess just told me she doesn’t want any of us going into her room from here on out,” he says as he moves toward me. He sits beside me, his shoulders slumping. He radiates a sullen, morose air that tells me he wants me to ask him about it.
But I don’t. I don’t want to. At this point, I don’t want to do anything, and that’s the problem here. I just feel… lost, like I’m perpetually living in a dream even though I’m not. A shitty dream I can’t wake up from no matter how hard I try.
“So what?” I huff, trying to act like I don’t care, because I don’t. Whatever’s going on with Jess, I definitely don’t give a shit. Not a single one. I don’t care that there’s a third alpha currently rooming in this house, nor do I care he had to borrow some of our dads’ clothes.
If I keep acting like I don’t care about anything, sooner or later it’ll become true, won’t it? It’s the goal I’ve been operating under for years now, and typically my attitude stops people from ever asking too many questions or caring too much, even our parents.
It’s just… it’s strangely getting harder lately, and I think I owe it to that omega and my brother.
“We’ve still got some time before her heat,” my brother whispers. “I can’t stop wondering if it’s something I did.”
I know he carries guilt over how their friendship ended all those years ago. If Jess and him haven’t talked about it yet, obviously they’re both planning on pretending like nothing ever happened, and if that’s the case, I don’t blame her for wanting nothing to do with him.
Somehow though, even though I shouldn’t give a shit, I don’t like hearing my brother so down in the dumps, so I say, “Maybe it has to do with that Rourke guy. Seems like they have a connection or some shit.”
Surely my brother spotted it. I pegged it the first time I saw them together, when he waltzed in like he owned the place.
His über pheromones got stronger the second he saw her near me.
He’d been able to keep better control of said pheromones when we had dinner together, but he still royally pissed me off.
“No,” Asher says. “She told me to let him know, too. She doesn’t want any of us in her room.” I notice he doesn’t address the remark about Rourke’s and Jess’s connection, but I don’t comment on it.
“Maybe she’s just getting prepared for her heat.” I think back to what I told her, how I scolded her for possibly ruining my brother’s life by getting him entangled in all of this. Maybe I was a little harsh at the time.
“Maybe. Still, it feels like she’s pushing me away.”
“Why do you even care? She’s not your omega.” The moment those words leave me, it’s like I’m not only reminding my brother of that, but also myself—which is stupid, because I don’t want her to be mine.
He sounds sad when he whispers, “I know. I… maybe it’s dumb, but the longer we’re here, the more I think about what happened ten years ago and where we could’ve been if I would’ve been a better person.”
“You were a kid.”
“So was she, and she lost everything.” My brother sighs. “Maybe she would be my omega if I would’ve been what she needed me to be.”
This is the first time I’m hearing about any of this. “Are you trying to say you have feelings for her?” I can’t help but sound shocked, but I really shouldn’t be. Agreeing to bring her up here and help her out should’ve been my first clue.
“Am I crazy if the answer’s yes?” My brother looks at me then, his green gaze full of uncertainty, though I don’t think that uncertainty is about him liking Jess. No, I think it’s more about the future, how things could progress from here.
“If you do, then…” I don’t know what to tell him, honestly.
I’m not good at this stuff, never have been, but I know that him liking her makes things complicated.
The whole reason she came up here was to avoid being matched and mated, not to reconnect with a friend who did her wrong during the worst time of her life.
Asher must sense what I’m thinking, because he stands and starts to pace the length of my room.
“I know. I know. Obviously I need to talk to her about what happened before, but… I also know I shouldn’t push her before her heat.
Rourke made it clear he’s here to make sure she gets what she wants, and I don’t want to put her inheritance in jeopardy for selfish reasons. ”
I’m strangely quiet when I say, “Liking her doesn’t make you selfish.”
“Maybe not, but it feels like it.” He stops pacing and looks at me. A moment passes before he apparently decides to change the subject: “You sure you’re doing okay?”
I wasn’t anticipating the switch up, so for a while, all I can do is blink at him as his question sinks in. You’d think, after doing it for so long, putting that angry mask back on would be easy and effortless, but sometimes… sometimes it’s the most difficult thing in the world.
“Yeah,” I huff with a frown, “I’m fine.”
Asher doesn’t take my word for it, for whatever reason. “If you ever need to talk, you know—”
I don’t want to hear whatever he’s about to say. I growl out the words, “Get out.” I make sure to put a bit of dominance in them, so he can’t argue with me.
With a sigh, my brother leaves my room, though he takes his damn time doing it. He closes the door behind him, and just like that, I’m alone once again. I stare hard at the door over my shoulder, as if he’s going to pop back in randomly, for at least a minute.
Am I doing okay? What a stupid fucking question. I’m… I don’t know what I am or how I’m doing. I don’t even really know why I’m here.
Fuck. Sometimes living sucks.
I spend the next twelve hours in my room.
When you’re lost in your own thoughts, sometimes you ignore those hunger cues without realizing it, and that’s exactly what I did.
It’s well past midnight by the time I realize I’m starving and that I haven't eaten anything since breakfast. As much as I don’t want to venture out of my room, I must.
So I head to the door and poke my head out, listening for any sounds that might alert me to the fact that someone else is awake. Seconds go by, and I don’t hear a single sound, which I take to mean that everyone else is asleep in their own rooms.
Good. I don’t feel like chatting with anyone. That little talk with Asher earlier was more than enough talking for the day.
I don’t flick on any lights. I’m a master at walking through this house at night in the utter darkness by now.
Through the hall, through the main floor of the house, I eventually reach the kitchen, where I pull something out of the freezer, toss it on a plate, and throw it into the microwave.
I stand there in the darkness, leaning on the edge of the counter, as I wait for the small round pizza to be done.
Not as good as fresh pizza from an actual shop, but when you’re up in the mountains, you learn you take what you can get.
My eyes close as I wait. I don’t think of anything in particular.
I just… exist. It’s what I’ve been doing a lot lately.
For years, actually. Our parents thought I had an indifferent attitude about everything, which is why Asher went to college and will take over the family business, while I fucked off and did whatever I wanted.
But that’s not strictly true. It wasn’t so much that I never cared. It’s more like… why bother caring? Why bother giving a shit about things I know I’m not good at? The problem lies in me. I don’t have any natural affinities, don’t have any wants or desires when it comes to lifelong careers.
I exist, and sometimes that’s hard enough. It’s damn near impossible for me to imagine existing while also juggling an important job, a pack, a mate, and all the other things life can throw at you when you aren’t paying attention.
I’ve never met an alpha who’s struggled internally like me. We’re the backbones of society; we’re natural born leaders. We’re told we are a step above the rest, especially us über alphas.
No one ever talks about the ones who don’t fit into that perfect mold. Sure, you have the alphas who went feral and lost their minds; they get shoved into prison-like facilities, never to see the light of day again.
But what about the ones who struggle with their mental health?
I don’t think I’ve ever met another alpha who’s gone to therapy or who has to take daily medication.
Once, years ago, back when I was still living under my parents’ roof, I off-handedly mentioned to them I didn’t feel right inside, that I felt empty, and their response was to say it’ll all go away the moment I find a pack and claim a mate.
A pack and a mate can fix everything, apparently. At least according to them. Myself? I don’t think it’s all it’s cracked up to be. I don’t think a mate would fix me.
So I dropped it. They were good parents, still are, but they don’t really get it. They don’t get me. Sometimes I catch myself wondering what I’d be like if they would’ve had a different response, if they wouldn’t have shrugged it off.
The microwave beeps, and I take my food out.
I walk through the darkness around the kitchen island, my goal the living room to put something mindless on the TV while I eat, but before I make it to my destination, I see something out of the corner of my eye through the set of double-doors that lead to the patio out back.
I stop.
Someone’s out there, sitting in the darkness. It’s a clear night and the moon shines bright, and it’s because of that silver illumination I recognize who it is.
The long hair helps, too.