Chapter 7
Andromeda
“Thanks for the ride,” I mumble to my Uber driver before slamming the door shut.
The noise pierces through my brain, and I wince. I’ve still got a pretty bad concussion, according to the doctors, but I told them I wanted to leave as soon as possible.
I’m pretty sure the discharge paperwork I signed had instructions that required another person to help me, but I don’t care. It’s not like I have anyone I can call to come help me.
It was enough of a hassle to get Camille to drop off some clothes for me to wear out of the hospital, considering the dress I wore to the Grammys was completely ruined.
You’d think that she’d be more willing, considering she’s paid as one of our stylists.
When begging her for help didn’t work, I had to threaten to walk out of the hospital in the gown they gave me, ass out and everything.
I’m sure the paparazzi would’ve loved to snap a photo of that.
I wonder what kinds of headlines they would’ve written about me? Probably that I’d lost my mind.
It’s always sensationalist headlines about whatever big star is having a mental breakdown, never an exploration into what the hell drove them to that place in the first place.
Other than Camille coming back today, I was left blissfully alone for the remaining time of my hospital stay. I guess after Gina’s initial freakout she felt she was in a place to return to work, preparing to film the latest season of her reality TV show.
Because, obviously—as a mother—that’s what your priorities should be.
I should be used to it. Gina’s maternal instincts were all used up when I was young enough to behave exactly as she wanted me to… and whenever a camera was pointed at us. Ever since I hit puberty and started showing signs of thinking for myself? Bye-bye Mom, hello Momager from hell.
I buzz into the gates of my Santa Monica apartment complex, taking the elevator up to my place. I moved out of my mom’s house the week after I graduated high school, and it was the best decision I ever made.
Considering the fact my mom is still a prominent member of the TV show, and camera crews are always there for one reason or another, it’s nice having a place that’s truly mine.
Well, a place that should be truly mine.
But I know, the moment I step foot through my door that I’m not alone.
The scent of black coffee that hits my nose sends my heart leaping up to my throat. I can’t breathe. I can’t fucking breathe.
My hand smacks against the wall, turning on the lights in the front hallway of my apartment, illuminating my dark living room.
“Hey, Andi,” Ezra says from my couch.
His eyes are bloodshot, and his hands have that faint tremble I know comes from his coke withdrawal. His neon-red hair which he dyed earlier this year to help promote his music, sticks up in all directions like he hasn’t bothered to comb it in days.
Probably because he hasn’t. There doesn’t tend to be much time to pay attention to how you look when you’re on a bender.
“What the fuck are you doing here?” I ask, my voice a faint whisper. “And why the hell were you sitting in the dark?”
“The sun set,” he mumbles, shoving his hands into the pockets of his hoodie. “And I was just thinking, so I didn’t get up.”
“You didn’t answer my first question. What the fuck are you doing here?”
“Sorry, I just—I just needed to talk to you.”
“Well, I don’t want to talk to you, and this is my apartment.” I swallow past the lump in my throat. “I need you to leave, Ezra.”
I can’t believe this is happening right now.
Not just Ezra being in my apartment, but all of it.
Seventy-two hours ago, having Ezra show up at my apartment wouldn’t have been a big deal at all. Honestly, I probably would’ve been pretty excited. It’s why he has the keys to my place in the first place.
I should probably tell him to leave them here before he goes.
“I’m going to rehab,” Ezra says, shifting his weight from foot to foot. “But I couldn’t go before coming here to apologize to you. I—I’m so sorry, Andi, you have no idea.”
My hand trembles as I lift it to touch the ugly blue and green bruises I know are peeking out past the collar of my hoodie.
Ezra’s apology seems sincere, but the words themselves ring hollow. They can’t get past the anger that’s starting to bubble its way up my throat.
“I get it if you don’t want to talk to me right now. I really do, but I hope—I hope that when I get out, when I’m better, that we’ll be able to talk then? See if we can figure things out between us?”
How dare he. How fucking dare he.
Does he expect me to just wait around for him to fix himself enough that he doesn’t slam my head into a marble countertop when he’s pissed about something not going his way?
“You’re joking,” I rasp, taking a few hurried steps back into my kitchen as he comes closer to me. I eye the knife block in my kitchen. Which is stupid. There’s no way I’d be able to defend myself against an alpha with just a kitchen knife.
“No,” he says, shaking his head vehemently, freezing in place at the entrance to the kitchen when he sees my expression. “I know I fucked up, but we’ve been through so much—”
My phone chimes in my hand.
Unknown number
Hey Andi, it’s Beck
My heart leaps up into my throat. You’d think with Ezra standing right in front of me, in my home, that I’d be more concerned about that. But the moment I see Beck’s name floating on my screen, the only thing I can focus on is the memory of his sparkling, diamond eyes.
Unknown number
I got your number from Leo
Who got it from your team
Fuck, maybe I should’ve planned this better instead of spamming you with messages
I just wanted to be the one to tell you my answer to your question at the hospital. I’m in. My team’s working on making things happen with yours. You don’t have to worry about anything. You’re not alone anymore.
You’re not alone anymore.
Wow.
I’m glad he’s telling me this via text, because I don’t know what I’d say if we were standing face to face.
“Who the hell is that?” Ezra grumbles. “They sure are needy.”
“None of your business,” I say, my knuckles going white around my phone as I press the glowing screen against my thigh.
“What, is it that male omega or some shit?” he huffs.
I can’t hide my flinch.
Ezra’s eyes narrow on me, and he inhales a sharp breath.
He knows.
We’ve known each other long enough for us to recognize each other’s tells. And when Ezra chooses to pay attention to me, he notices.
“Fine, go and run off with your Knight in shining armor,” Ezra scoffs. “I’ve seen the headlines.”
“Don’t do this, Ezra,” I rasp.
“Do what, Andi?” he bites back.
“Don’t throw a tantrum about this. My knight in shining armor was supposed to be you.”
He jerks backward as if my words sucker-punched him in the face.
His thick brows draw down, and I finally see the hints of the boy I fell in love with. The one who always felt things too hard, who was so insecure about what he could offer, who just wanted to be acknowledged by the world as good enough.
“You were the first one to point out that my mom wasn’t normal, back in high school. You were the one to tell me to move the hell out after I graduated,” I mumble. “Hell, we went fucking apartment hunting for this place together.”
I spread my arms out and wave at the kitchen around me. The kitchen he’s burned pasta water in. The kitchen where I’ve cooked him his crazy bulking meals with two pounds of chicken and a dozen eggs.
“And we don’t have to throw that away,” Ezra croaks, glancing wistfully around the room like he’s imagining the same things I am.
“There’s no we here, Ezra.” I rub at my sternum, where a deep ache lingers. “You were the one to burn everything we had to the ground.”
He blinks rapidly and shakes his head, his chin dropping to his chest. The black coffee notes of his scent, bitter with sadness, swirl in the air around us.
“I’m sorry, Andi, you have no idea. I’m so fucking pissed at myself for fucking this up,” he says, tears glittering in the dim light from the front hallway.
“You’re not the only one pissed off at this situation, Ezra. I’m pissed too. I thought—I thought what we had was proof that maybe I was deserving of some peace. Some safety. Turns out I was wrong.” The muscles in my forehead start twitching with my grimace.
He notices.
He takes a step back, his hands raised in surrender. The width of his shoulders deflates as he slumps with the motion.
“You were the only one who got my issues with my dad,” he mumbles.
“And you were the only one to get the shitshow relationship I have with my mom,” I answer in return, my voice going soft.
My phone chimes again, making both of us flinch.
“So your mom is making you go out with the omega now?” He’s familiar enough with my mom to know that this is the kind of opportunity she’d never let slip past her fingers. Even if that means making me play such a crazy part.
“Something like that.”
He doesn’t need to know the full details. He doesn’t need to know that my mom’s second option is him. That would just give him hope that something could happen between us when nothing will ever be the same again.
“Do you think he’s going to understand the craziness inside my brain when we go on our fake dates?” I huff, my lips pulling back into a grimace.
I don’t even know why I’m asking in the first place. Let alone to Ezra of all people.
But I know why the moment Ezra opens his mouth.
“You’re not crazy, Andi, never were,” he mumbles. “And for your sake, I hope he does. Because you deserve that.”
Fuck. My heart breaks all over again. Why does he need to say exactly what I need to hear after all he’s done to me?
What the fuck did I do to deserve this?
Why couldn’t we just be normal?
Why did he have to go and fuck things up and leave me all alone?
He tucks his shaky hands into his pockets, leaning back on his heels, looking just like the boy I fell in love with.
“I’m gonna go now. My dad’s probably going to skin me alive. Good luck, Andi.”
I don’t even need to ask him to leave my keys. He drops them into the ceramic shell dish on my shoe cabinet on his way out. The one we painted at an art studio together, back when we did cute dates. Before he got into drugs and alcohol.
The door clicks softly shut behind him.
I feel the sob building in my chest the moment I move towards the door to click the deadbolt shut.
When I’m officially “safe,” I collapse onto the floor, hugging my knees to my chest. Will I ever feel safe again? Not just physically. But emotionally.
Probably not.
There’re probably going to be plenty of headlines about how my fucking bloodline is cursed because of my mom’s unbonding. Maybe they’re right. Maybe I am cursed.
My head throbs, the stitches in my scalp aching with each heaving sob.
I’m alone now. Truly fucking alone.
Because even after everything that happened to me, the only person who was there for me after I got discharged was Ezra. And he’s not safe anymore.