Chapter 38
Chapter Thirty-Eight
BEAU
A phone ringing rips me from sleep, the half-formed dream clinging to the edges of my mind even as my heart races. Emily rolls into me, her curves molding to the hard lines of my body. Vanilla surrounds me in a fresh wave, and I kiss the crown of her head.
“Em?” My voice is a rough whisper. “Your phone.”
She only snuggles deeper, tilting her face until her forehead presses hard into my sternum.
The ringing stops, and I slowly relax, exhaustion lulling me back into a half-awake state. There’s a whisper of movement from the baby monitor, and I stretch just enough to see the small screen. Penny’s rolled onto her side, pressed right up against the bars of the crib, but her eyes are closed.
Emily’s phone rings again, and I jump at the sudden noise.
“Emily,” I murmur, shaking her awake. “Your phone, firecracker. Someone’s calling you.”
I shake her again, and she finally sits up.
Once she’s turned away from me, I turn the lamp on my bedside table on to the lowest setting, blinking at the wash of warm light.
She must’ve gotten up at some point after our lovemaking because one of my undershirts drowns her shape, the v neck hitting low enough on her to reveal the swell of one breast. She rubs her eyes and blindly reaches for her phone.
“Hello?” Her voice is scratchy. She runs a hand through her hair, combing it over her shoulder. “This is Emily.”
There’s a long pause where she tilts her head, frowning. Then her eyes widen, and her vanilla scent snaps out from her like an explosion. She scrambles off the bed and rushes to the dresser, pulling open drawers and dropping pieces of clothing on top of it without any rhyme or reason.
“So, wait, let me make sure I understand,” she says.
She twists the small clock she keeps on the dresser top, focusing on it for longer than is probably necessary. Just shy of midnight. We hadn’t been asleep for more than an hour.
“He’s in heat?”
My heart jumps into my fucking throat.
Triston’s still in Billings, finishing the magazine feature.
He’s not supposed to be home until tomorrow night.
How is he in heat? There’s no way Emily would have let him stay there alone if there were signs his heat was imminent.
She wouldn’t risk him having another Drop, not after just getting through being touch-starved and the entire mess that happened in Oakland not even eight weeks ago.
I get out of bed, crossing to where Emily is and throw on a pair of sweats.
She pulls more clothing from her drawers.
Without a word, I grab one of the suitcases from the closet and open it on the bed.
She drops the clothing into it without any organization.
I pull her toothbrush and basic skincare from the bathroom and drop it into one of the toiletry bags.
Then I grab her hairbrush and a couple hair ties, twisting them around the handle so they won’t get lost in the shuffle.
When I get back into the room, she’s thrown on a set of flared leggings and a bra, though she’s still wearing my undershirt.
“We’re in Jackson.” She twists her hair back over her shoulder and then digs through the second dresser, the one Triston’s started using.
She pulls out a couple pairs of sweats and the shirts he sleeps in.
She shakes her head as she lumps his clothing with hers in the bag.
“Wyoming. We’re a few hours away at least.”
We . Even knowing I can’t do anything to help Triston through a heat, my heart warms. The three of us are a we even if the Council hasn’t finalized all of the paperwork.
At least the portion adjusting emergency contacts is updated, evidenced quite clearly with Emily getting a call from what must be a Haven.
She presses the phone between her shoulder and her ear and pulls some of the blankets Triston’s added to the bed. She drops them into the suitcase without any kind of ceremony.
Emily freezes. I gently set the toiletry bag on top and then zip it closed.
“There was a stimulant in his blood?” The question is a growl, just shy of truly violent.
What ?
Dread replaces the low-thrumming worry in one swift wave. After a second, she shakes her head and palms her phone. She grabs the pillow he’s claimed and sets it on top of the bag.
“No, it’s not that I don’t believe you.” Her tone is more cautious now. “It’s just that he’s not ever taken them before. Not on purpose. And he never would have used one alone when we’re not with him.”
She looks up at me, and I can see the fear twisting around my chest mirrored in her eyes. If Triston’s heat was induced, there’s no way he’ll be able to wait for Emily to get there on a commercial flight.
“Okay. Y-yeah, I give consent for someone to help him until I’m able to get there. I’d rather that than risk him Dropping.”
My stomach pitches. He must be in really rough shape if she’s letting another Alpha anywhere near him right now.
“I’ll call my brother,” I whisper.
I swipe my phone from its charger and blindly dial Caleb’s number. He picks up on the third ring.
“Beau? What’s wrong?”
I don’t bother to lead in to the question. “Can you fly Emily to Billings?”
I’m assuming he’s still in Billings, at least. It’s a big enough town to have a Haven, right? Fuck, I don’t know.
There’s shuffling in the background and Ethan’s low voice. I can’t pick out any words, just the timbre of worry and exhaustion blended together. Emily drops her phone to the bed and rushes into the bathroom. When she comes back out, her hair’s pulled into a messy bun.
“Yeah, I can take her,” Caleb says. “What’s happened?”
I set my phone on speaker so Emily can hear everything, too. She doesn’t mince words, either. That fear is in her voice, woven through it like it’s woven through my ribs and made it impossible to take a full breath.
“Triston’s in heat,” she says.
Caleb curses.
“He has a stimulant in his bloodstream,” she continues, informing me more than Caleb.
“I don’t know how. He wouldn’t risk it after having a Drop in April.
But that means they can’t safely sedate him for more than an hour or two.
The combination of a heavy sedative and the stimulant is one of the quintessential concoctions that creates the possibility of a Drop.
And if he has a second Drop only a couple months after the initial one… ”
She trails off, and her breathing grows choppy. Her hands shake, and tears line her lashes. Her vanilla scent whips out again, lashing me. The combination is one I’ve seen her have dozens of times, though not in the last couple months.
Panic attack.
I pull her into my arms, tightening my hold around her chest until it’s just shy of painful. Her entire body shakes like a leaf against me
“Holy hell, he had a Drop in April?” Caleb mutters the question.
I’m not sure if he’s expecting a verbal answer, but he doesn’t seem overly concerned when neither of us reply.
“Well, damn. No wonder he seemed so fragile since getting back. I thought it was just finding out about Penny. You have a bag packed?”
Emily presses her forehead against my sternum hard enough to hurt. I scoop her into my arms, keeping her as close to me as possible.
“Yeah, she does,” I tell him.
“All right. I’ll be there in ten.”
Caleb hangs up. I cross the house at just shy of a jog, pulling an ice pack from the freezer and then setting Emily on one of the island’s stools.
I press the cold pack against her chest, and she shivers harder.
Then I wrap my arms around her tighter than before, letting the muscle memory of all those months of her struggling after Penny was born take over.
“You’re safe,” I murmur.
Then I slowly run her through a grounding technique, keeping my body pressed tight to hers until her shuddering stops.
The ice pack is freezing against my skin, but it’s not the first time we’ve had to do this, so I don’t flinch.
Finally— finally —she presses her palms to the small of my back and sucks in a longer, less forced gulp of air.
“Go to Triston,” I whispers against her hair. “I’ve got Penny, and so does the rest of the family. Just like we have Camden when Brielle goes into heat.”
Right on cue, there’s three knocks on the front door. Emily drops her hands and leaves the ice pack on the counter, then disappears into our bedroom. By the time she returns, I have the door open and Caleb’s leaning against the threshold, looking as tired and worn out as I feel.
“Sorry,” I whisper.
He’s quick to wave me off.
“Don’t. You know you’ve helped us out with Brielle’s heats. They aren’t always convenient, especially if someone’s forcibly triggering them.”
Then he focuses on Emily and her suitcase. She clutches Triston’s pillow to her stomach. Her scent pulses again, and Caleb’s lips flatten.
“Yeah, I know,” he says, responding to whatever is lacing her scent right now. “Let’s get you to him. Two hours, and you can help him.”