“It’s a matching service.”
I bark out a laugh. “Absolutely not.”
“Just hear me out. It’s not like the others. This one actually screens for compatibility beyond just scent matching. They use psychological profiles, lifestyle preferences, long-term goals?—”
“Let me save you the pitch and remind you of my history with so-called ‘compatibility’.” I start counting off on my fingers though she can’t see me. “Tyler left me for a pack with an omega after two years. Daniel lasted eighteen months before he found his ‘true family.’ Chris made it almost three years before deciding he needed ‘something more.’ And Mark… well, Mark at least had the decency to wait until after my birthday party to tell me he’d been visiting pack houses behind my back.”
“This is different?—”
“It’s not different, Jess.I’mthe common denominator here. I’m what they try until someone better comes along. Alphas, betas, it doesn’t matter. They all want a pack, and a pack only wants one thing. An omega.”
The silence on the other end tells me I’ve said too much, revealed the soft underbelly beneath my armor of practicality. That’s something I usually don’t share even with the one person in this world who knows me the best. I clear my throat.
“Besides, I don’t have time for dating,” I add, forcing a bit of levity into my voice. “The holiday orders are already coming in.”
“The service is called Beyond Bonds,” Jessica continues as if I haven’t spoken. “My coworker Chelsea found her mate through them. They’ve been together for two years now.”
“Good for Chelsea.” I grab another box, folding it into shape with practiced movements. “Some people get lucky.”
I’m not one of them.
“It’s not about luck,” she insists. “It’s about finding the right person, not just any alpha or beta who happens to catch your eye at a bar.”
I think about the four “right” people who all eventually realized I wasn’t right for them and slam my walls up hard. “I’ve got twenty more orders to pack, Jess.”
“Just promise you’ll think about it.”
“Sure, I’ll add it to my to-do list right after ‘develop telekinesis’ and ‘learn underwater basket weaving.’”
“I’m emailing you the link,” she continues, ignoring my sarcasm. “They’re having a special right now. Three months for the price of one.”
“What a bargain. Three months of rejection for the price of one.”
“Lexie.” Her voice drops to that gentle tone that makes my throat tighten. “Not everyone will leave you.”
Hearing my fear spoken out loud hurts more than I want to admit, even if it probably is as painfully obvious to her as to me.
“I need to go, Jess. These packages won’t seal themselves.”
“Promise me you’ll at least look at the website.”
“I promise I’llthinkabout looking at the website.”
“That’s not?—”
“Bye, I love you, thanks for calling!” I hang up before she can push further, tossing my phone onto the couch like it’s suddenly burning hot.
My sister means well. I know she does. And of course she still believes in things like destiny and true love. It happened for Jessica. It’s happened for other people I know, Mark included, but me? I’m very clearly not one of those outliers, and I’m too exhausted from holding out that kind of hope.
The apartment feels quieter now, the silence heavier. I look around at the blank walls, the functional furniture, the single plant by the window that’s survived my inexperienced care through sheer stubbornness. Nothing here marks this space as mine. Nothing says someone lives here who expects to stay.
I reach for another box, but my rhythm is broken. Jessica’s words echo in my head.
Not everyone will leave you.
Easy for her to say. Jessica found her mate in college. Ten years later, they’ve got the house with the yard and the dog and the two perfect children. She’s never known what it’s like to build a life with someone, brick by careful brick, only to watch them knock it down and walk away with the pieces that mattered.
My phone pings with an incoming email. Jessica, true to her word, has sent the link to Beyond Bonds. I ignore it and open Instagram instead, which is my first mistake.
