Chapter Fifteen
Ava
I can’t seem to get warm, no matter how hard I try.
It’s like the cold from the rink settled into my bones and refuses to let me go.
I tried a hot shower, and now I’m bundled up in Mark’s sweatshirt, which I thought would help, but it isn’t.
His scent is already fading because I wore it most of the morning. Now it mostly just smells like me.
I sigh, burrowing further under my heavy throw blanket. I hear a soft “mrp” sound, and Valentino jumps onto my lap and starts a very serious biscuit order on my legs. I reach out and run my fingers through her soft fur, listening to the loud rumble of her purr.
“It’s been kind of a shitty day, V,” I whisper to her.
My body feels heavy, like it’s weighed down by concrete. I’ve battled depression for most of my life—another glorious side effect of having to hide who you really are—and tonight is no exception. I want to lie here wrapped up like a burrito in my blanket and never move again.
When I left Mark’s this morning, I’d been leaning towards letting him in.
I’d been a mess, but I’d thought about all the times my therapist had suggested that I consider being open with him.
But I’d been all twisted up in the logistics.
How could I make him understand why it’s so important to keep my secret?
Would he see how wrong he’s been to stay neutral against what happens to omegas every day?
So I went to the rink, the place I always go when I need to clear my head. The quiet there helps drown out the constant internal noise. Losing myself on the ice does more for me than therapy in a lot of ways, at least when it comes to actually sorting through what I am feeling.
When I saw him watching me from across the rink, it felt like for the first time in a long while—hell, possibly ever—someone finally saw me. Isn’t that what we all want, deep down?
I’m not even sure what it was about his friend’s comment that snapped everything back into place.
Maybe it was the mocking way he said ballerina.
Maybe it was the reminder of the viper nickname.
All I know is it felt like a bucket of cold water dumped over me, and suddenly I remembered that no matter who we are when it’s just the two of us, our roles are already written out in the real world. And they’re not changing.
A buzz on the intercom pulls me from my spiral. “Ms. Kendrick, your brother is here. Shall I send him up?”
I push the button. “Yes, Alfred, thank you.”
A few minutes later, I hear a soft knock at the door, and I swing it open to reveal Jack. I can’t help the smile that splits my face, despite my awful mood. As the baby of the family, he’s equally spoiled and adored by both my mother and myself.
“Hello, baby brother,” I say.
“Hello, ancient sister,” he replies, following back to my makeshift nest on the couch, dropping beside me. He scoops up Valentino and settles her in his lap, and her purrs get louder, if that’s possible. Everyone loves Jack. It’s impossible not to with his golden retriever energy.
He leans back after giving her chin a thorough scritch, resting one arm along the back of the couch. “You look like hell. What gives?”
I toss a throw pillow at him. “Fucking rude.”
He shrugs. “It’s true,” he says unapologetically.
“Yeah, well, we can’t all be walking supermodels like you, Jack.”
“Excuse you, I prefer ‘walking, talking sex god.’ At least that’s what Mateo calls me.”
I snort a laugh. “I cannot see Mateo ever saying that to your face. He knows your ego would grow too large to be supported on planet Earth.” Though I can admit that it’s likely Mateo thinks it.
Jack is tall, with a lean athlete’s build.
His copper hair is more auburn than mine, but his eyes are the same shade of green.
“Sadly, you’re correct. My husband is far too reserved for my liking. But seriously, why do you look like something Valentino dragged in?”
Did I say that I adore him? I take it back.
“A couple of things, okay? For one, I’m more than a little hungover, and I’ve got a lot going on.”
“Have you gotten off this couch at all?” he asks casually. Too casually.
I roll my eyes. “If that’s a subtle way to ease into asking me if I’ve eaten or moved my body, the answer to both is yes. I had a real breakfast, got lunch delivered, and then went skating to clear my head.”
He grins. “Good girl.”
I fake a gag. “Ew,” I say, wrinkling my nose. “Don’t ever say that to me again.”
Jack throws his head back with a laugh. “Well, I’m glad you aren’t sitting here spiraling on an empty stomach at least. You wanna talk about it? Mateo swears I’m a good listener.”
I sigh, curling my fists into the blanket. “I got drunk last night,” I say slowly. He cocks his head, giving me his full attention. “I ended up at Mark’s apartment. We had a really good morning, and I agreed we’d have a real conversation soon. I was thinking about telling him everything.”
He makes a sympathetic face. I’ve been filling Jack in on some of what’s been going on between me and Mark. Clearly not all the details, but about how my omega feels and my emotions. “I sense a but coming,” he says.
“But then I ran into him and his friend at the rink. And I dunno, things went a bit sideways. And I shut down. It’s just been a rough day.” My voice falters, and I press my hands to my face.
He leans forward, elbows on his knees. “Are we talking like, need a whole pint of ice cream rough or torture yourself with sad breakup songs rough?”
“Both,” I mutter, peeking through my fingers.
He nods solemnly. “The worst kind of day, then.”
I laugh a little. “What do you know about a horrible day? I don’t think you’ve ever had a bad day in your entire life,” I tease.
I know it’s not true, of course, but Jack does seem to naturally move through life with a sunny optimism that seems to always work out for him.
My dad likes to say that we are two sides of the same coin.
“That isn’t true,” he says with a lopsided grin. “One time, the gym was closed because of a water main break, and my favorite pair of shorts ripped right up the crotch. On top of it, Mateo was at work and I ended up bored.”
I fake gasp. “The horror!”
“I know,” he says. “I barely survived.” After a moment, he reaches over and grabs my hand.
“But in all seriousness, I’m here to listen if you need to cry or vent or whatever.
I know I don’t get all of the omega stuff, and I personally think you should tell Mark.
But it’s your life. I’ll support you however I can. ”
“I know. I just… I’ve kept this secret for so long, Jack,” I say quietly. “I don’t even know how to let someone in anymore. Mom and Dad gave up so much so I could have the chance to write my own story.”
He lets out a slow breath and leans back. “You know I love Mom and Dad. I get that they thought they were doing what was best for you. And from the outside, maybe they were. You’ve got a good life. A great one, even.”
“Now I hear a but coming,” I say.
His expression shifts, the grin replaced by something far more somber. It’s such a rare look on him that it carries more weight than it probably would from anyone else.
“But you’re fucking lonely,” he says, “and miserable. And I’ve watched too many of my friends tear themselves apart because they felt like they had to hide who they really were. Pretending. Shrinking themselves to fit what everyone else expects. That’s no way to live your life, sis.”
I blink in surprise. Who knew my baby brother could be so insightful?
Just as quickly as it came, the seriousness is gone. “Now,” he says, standing and grabbing my hand, pulling me to stand beside him. “There’s only one thing that can truly cure a hangover and a case of the blues.”
My lips twitch at the corners. “What’s that?”
“Ice cream. Ice cream always helps. Come on, let’s go get some. I’ll even buy.”
I whine at the idea of leaving the couch, but he drags me along by my arm.
“Come on, lazybones,” he says. “I can hear mint chocolate chip calling my name.”
I trail after him, shaking my head, smiling despite myself. In the elevator, he whistles while he presses the call button, rocking back on his heels like he has nowhere else he would rather be. For all his himbo energy, there is no one more loyal or protective than Jack.
The ice cream shop down the street smells like sugar and waffle cones the second we step inside.
It has a very vintage soda shop vibe, with framed ads from the ‘50s scattered around the room and pale pink walls.
The mint green ice cream case hosts over twenty flavors that rotate out monthly.
A couple of kids at one of the tables are arguing about who got more sprinkles while their parents look on.
Jack studies the menu with the seriousness of a surgeon selecting the proper blade. I laugh, rolling my eyes. “Just choose something so the poor girl can get it scooped.” I give her a smile.
“Um, excuse you,” he says, wagging a finger at me. “One doesn’t just rush these kinds of things.”
I move closer to the case. “Well, while Mr. Indecisive here tries to come up with the perfect ice cream blend, I’ll take a scoop of vanilla with crushed Reese’s Cups and sliced bananas, please. Oh, and some hot fudge.”
“See, you always get the same thing. Boring,” Jack admonishes.
After he finally makes a choice—waffle cone with powdered jelly donut and honey sponge cake flavors—we find a small table near the window.
He talks through the first few bites, launching into whatever new fitness kick he’s on this week, something about cold plunges?
It sounds like a form of medieval torture to me, and when he presses me to give it a shot, I give him a look that has sent many a witness into a panic.
“Fiiiiine. But you’re missing out on the benefits,” he says.
Mateo calls halfway through, managing to snag a break on his shift at the hospital. Jack answers immediately and flips the phone to the video chat, holding it up so I can wave.
“You whores! You got ice cream without me?” Mateo chides.
“You should be here! Jack said I looked like shit, and the only solution was ice cream,” I say with a laugh.
“Well, some of us aren’t trust fund babies, and the trauma nurse life waits for no one. You two behaving?”
“Define behaving,” Jack demands with faux seriousness.
I can feel the tension slowly unwinding from my body. Things don’t seem quite as heavy as they did an hour ago. I know how I feel about Mark when I’m honest with myself. But I don’t know if I’m capable of letting him in, and it’s not fair to keep stringing him along while I try to figure it out.
I still owe him that conversation, even if it’s to finally end things. It’s the right thing to do.