He runs a hand through his hair, frustration evident in every line of his body. "They're just being idiots. They'll come around."
"Maybe," I concede. "But right now, they need you more than I do. And you need to figure out if this is really what you all want."
I grab my coat from the back of my chair, slipping it on with hands that tremble slightly. I'm not going to cry. Not here. Not now.
"At least let me walk you out," Darren says, defeat creeping into his voice.
"That's sweet, but I'm fine," I assure him. Really, I just don't want him to see when the tears spill over. "Besides, someone needs to stick around so the waiter doesn't think we're dining and dashing."
It's a flimsy excuse, but not half as bad as the ones the alphas made, so Darren mercifully lets it slide. "Right," he says with a burdened sigh. "I'll call you later?"
I give a noncommittal nod and slip out before I can humiliate myself any further. Out in the parking lot, I slip into my car and put the key in the ignition, all on autopilot, until I finally pull out and the first tears slip down my cheeks.
Why did I think this could work?
Oh, right. I'm a hopeless romantic who still longs for a genuine connection in a world that's clearly decided I'm nothing more than an extra.
Chapter
Eighteen
DARREN
Istare at the empty chair where Lexie sat just moments ago, the burgundy dress a flash of color as she slipped out the door. My chest feels hollow, like someone's carved out everything important and left just enough for basic functions.
Breathing. Standing. Existing.
I barely even know her. This started as a desperate bid to find a distraction to keep the alphas in my pack from turning their amorous sights on me and making shit even weirder than it is already. I wasn't expecting her to be the most captivating woman I've ever met.
I wasn't expecting it to hurt this bad when it crashed and burned, and I still don't fully understand why it does.
The waiter approaches with a concerned expression. "Sir? Is everything all right?"
No. Nothing is all right. The one good thing I've found since my life imploded has just walked out because my packmates couldn't handle a simple dinner without acting like complete assholes.
"The check, please," I manage, my voice rough.
He must hear the urgency in my tone because he nods quickly and hurries away. I pull out my wallet, fingers clumsy with adrenaline and anger. I need to catch her. Need to find the right words to explain that this isn't what I wanted, that my pack isn't usually this weird, that there's still a chance for us if she's willing to give it. Even if it doesn't involve the rest of them.
The waiter returns with the check folder. I don't even look at the total, just shove my credit card into it.
While he processes the payment, I pull out my phone, debating whether to call or text her. Would she even answer? The look on her face when she left, resigned and hurt but not surprised, tells me she probably won't. Like she's been through this before. Expected it, even.
Because she has. Four times, she said. Four men who left her for packs with omegas.
And now here I am, the omega in a pack that just collectively made her feel unwelcome. The fucking irony would be hilarious if it didn't make me want to put my fist through a wall.
Or someone's throat.
The waiter returns with my card and the receipt. I scribble my signature, not bothering to calculate the tip. I just add an extra zero onto the bill to cover it. Whatever it is, it's probably still not enough to compensate for the shitshow he's witnessed tonight, but I can't spare the brain cells to do math right now.
I'm halfway to the door when I hear Jax's voice behind me.
"Darren? Where's Lexie?"
I spin around so fast I nearly lose my balance. The four of them stand there, looking various degrees of confused and guilty. Jax at the front, always the leader. Dmitri looming behind him like a mountain, Zayn trying to look casual next to him and failing miserably. Aidan shifts awkwardly, his eyes flicking between me and the table.
"Where do you think?" I snarl, the words tearing from my throat. "She left. Couldn't handle another minute of you assholes giving her weird looks and weirder excuses and acting like fucking psychos."
