6. The Next Ice Age
Chapter six
The Next Ice Age
The glass shakes as my hand lowers.
I don’t understand what’s happening. And worse, this random omega that seems to be witnessing a large-scale earthquake hit my life is standing there and watching.
Lauren finally realizes that thirty minutes ago would have been a brilliant time to exit stage left. “Look, I’m going to head out.”
Both of their attentions snap to her so completely that it feels like a window slamming shut. My shoulders curve in a silent blow. Liam cuts me out completely, addressing her as I stand there silently, holding her empty glass. “You don’t have to do that.”
“I do.” I feel her moving behind me and turn, my hands flying up. She holds up her own palms, our eyes meeting. “I’m sorry. I’m leaving.”
“Wait,” Jonas blurts. He lifts his hand. The warning sound that comes from my throat makes him drop it again, and fucking fast. “We’ll work this out.”
I find my voice. “What the fuck do you mean, work this fucking out?”
“Enough,” Liam hisses, glancing around us. “Will you stop? Jesus, Rosie. This is ridiculous.”
“Where’s Carter?” My throat grows tighter, more constricted. “Why isn’t he here?”
My free hand curls around my throat as careful looks are exchanged around me.
“We’ll talk tomorrow,” Liam says finally, and I blink at him. Uncomprehending.
And then I understand. He’s not talking to me.
Lauren doesn’t say anything. The sticky sweetness of her scent doesn’t soften after she leaves, drowning our silence in the weight of whatever the hell just happened.
“Breathe,” Liam says finally. His hands land on my shoulders. When I try to pull away, he leans in. “I need you to breathe.”
But the room is spinning, and there’s no air. There’s only her.
“C’mon, Ro.” Jonas’s arm wraps around my waist. He’s standing at my back, his mouth on my ear, and it’s not comforting. Not this time. “Everything’s gonna be fine.”
“Get—away.” My voice rasps, but Liam shakes his head.
“You’re panicking,” He says quietly. His hands rub up and down my arms. “And you’re cold. Come here.”
“Fuck you.” My teeth clack together. “The fuck was that?”
He doesn’t wait for me to move, tugging me forward until I collide with his chest. Jonas follows until the three of us are pressed together.
I feel… pinned. “Where is he?”
I don’t know how to approach whatever this was. I need Carter here. Liam pushes his hand carefully into my ponytail, massaging the back of my head. “Focus on us for a minute.”
I suck in a breath, feeling Jonas’s stomach flex against my back. His palm lands on my stomach, his hands gentle enough to make me want to cry. “Good girl. Breathe with me. In and out. Don’t think about anything else.”
“Everything okay here?”
I stiffen. And so do they, Liam’s response distinctly cool. “Fine, Laine. Ro needs a minute here. Give us some space, will you?”
Benji doesn’t leave. “Rosie?”
Liam grows tenser, and I feel myself shrinking again. “I’m fine, Benj. Thank you.”
I can’t look at him. I keep my face buried in Liam’s chest instead, wishing that everything about the last fifteen minutes—about my whole day—would vanish.
Including Lauren Delacorte.
“We need to talk about this,” I mumble eventually.
Liam inhales. “I know. Not here, though.”
Not with everyone watching me fall to pieces. Jonas shifts again, his bulk hiding me from the room, and I lean back gratefully. Swallowing a few times to try to rid my mouth of that floral scent, I peek up at Liam. “Where’s Carter? Is his shoulder okay?”
His expression is tight enough that I know he’s really not happy with me.
My teeth find the inside of my cheek as the smallest hint of self-awareness filters in.
I snatched a drink off my new boss because I thought my pack was flirting with her.
Way to bring your whole self to work, Johnson.
Oh, my god.
And his face is still like stone.
On their opening night.
My hands press over my eyes. “Maybe I… overreacted.”
Neither of them speak. But I can feel their exchange over my head, the loaded looks that I’m normally part of.
I’m normally part of whatever solution they need.
But not tonight. Tonight I’m the problem they need to fix.
I want my nest more with every second that passes. My voice is a croak. “Carter.”
I need Carter. I need to go home. I need to bury myself in blankets and them and wait for my humiliation to pass sometime between now and the next fucking ice age.
I peer up at Liam again.
It’s already the next ice age.
Shit. His face is giving me nothing. But his hands are gentle, still holding me. I focus on that instead of trying to meet his eyes, keeping mine low.
He sighs. “Carter’s looking for you.”
I stiffen. “What? But I looked—”
“He’s probably blowing up your phone.” Jonas’s hand slips into the back pocket of my jeans and tugs it free, showing me the illuminated screen.
Twelve missed calls.
Messages. Several, but one sticks out.
In the family room. Where are you? xx
“Shall we go find him?” I almost wish Jonas was as stern as Liam, because the softness there makes my eyes burn. He traces his hand down my back. “Then we’ll get you home, yeah?”
My nod is barely present.
“Want a lift?” The tears spill over when Jonas gently tugs me to face him. His expression falls, thumbs already moving to wipe them away. “No tears, Rosie girl. Come on now.”
He lifts me easily, and I wrap my legs and arms around him tightly, burying my face in his neck and mumbling into the faint scruff that rubs against my cheek. “Nest.”
I’m dysregulating, and fast. Everything is too loud, and too much.
“Carter is coming,” Liam murmurs. He follows close behind as Jonas carries me out. A few whistles and cheers follow, people assuming it’s part of the celebration.
I ruined this for them.
And my anxiety isn’t lessening, because beneath the warmth of Jonas’s skin… I can still smell her. A trace amount, but enough that my tears erupt into full flow, my body shaking. I rub my cheek against Jonas’s neck, then my sleeve, and his grip tightens. “Rosie. Come on, baby. Stop that.”
It has to go. I open my mouth to ask him to stop off at the bathroom when the call registers.
Carter rips me from Jonas. “What the fuck happened?”
I shrink back, but he tilts up my chin and studies me. His eyes widen, his palm spreading to cup my cheek until I lean into it. “Not you, baby. Liam?”
“Not here,” Liam responds coolly. “Rosie needs to be at home.”
I bite my lip. “I’m sorry.”
“Hey.” Carter pulls me into him, and I dive into my usual position to breathe him in, the question building in my mind. “You never need to apologize to us, Ro.”
He doesn’t smell like her.
My entire body shivers. “I had a… a meltdown. Upstairs.”
“Not here,” Liam snaps.
Carter stiffens. “Do not speak to her like that.”
Liam says nothing, and I curl my fingers into the familiar flannel of Carter’s shirt. “Can we go home, please? No arguments. I’m embarrassed enough as it is.”
I wait. Carter’s chest rises and falls beneath me.
“Sure,” he says finally. “Let’s go home.”