But those profiles Jessica showed me... they weren’t what I expected. They weren’t all alphas looking for their perfect omega to complete their pack. They were just people. Complicated, specific people with their own histories and desires, looking for something that worked for them, not just what biology or society dictated. I can relate to that.
“I’m not promising anything,” I warn.
“Of course not.” Jessica’s tone is too innocent.
“And if I get my heart stomped on again, I’m moving in with you and Luke and becoming a spinster. I already have the considerable yarn collection.”
“We’ll clear out the guest room.” She says it like she means it, which only makes me love her more despite my irritation.
I take a deep breath and release it slowly. “I’ll look tonight. That’s all I can promise.”
Jessica beams like I’ve just announced I’m running for president. “That’s all I’m asking.”
“You’re asking for way more than that, and we both know it.”
“True.” She doesn’t even try to deny it. “But we’re starting small.”
We fall into easier conversation after that, discussing her kids’ latest school adventures and my upcoming craft fair booth. By the time we’ve demolished most of the pie, I’m feeling almost optimistic, or at least less pessimistic, which might be as good as it gets for me these days.
As Jessica pays the bill at her insistence, I can’t help but wonder what it would be like to find someone, or someones, who might actually stay. Someone who sees me as more than a placeholder until something better comes along.
It’s probably a pipe dream. Four failed relationships don’t exactly suggest I’m headed for a happily-ever-after. But asJessica hugs me goodbye outside the café, I find myself thinking about those profiles, about all those different people seeking connections that don’t fit the mold.
Maybe there’s room for the unexpected. A future that doesn’t end with me packing boxes and staring at bare walls.
Or maybe I’m just riding a sugar high from too much pie.
Either way, I guess I’ll be logging into Beyond Bonds tonight.
Chapter
Four
JAX
Hospital waiting rooms are built for misery. The stale air, the uncomfortable chairs, the fluorescent lights that make everyone look half-dead. It’s all designed to make time crawl. We’ve been here for four hours, and it feels like forty.
I stand with my back against the wall, arms crossed, watching my teammates—my pack—cycle through various stages of anxiety. Aidan paces, his lanky frame vibrating with nervous energy. Every few minutes, he runs his hand through his light brown hair, messing up the dyed blue streak that matches our team colors. Dmitri sits motionless in a corner chair, his massive frame making the furniture look child-sized, pale blue eyes fixed on the middle distance. Only the occasional twitch of his jaw betrays his concern.
Zayn’s the worst of us, somehow taking up more space than even Dmitri despite his leaner build. He alternates between scrolling through his phone and launching into theories about what’s happening with Darren. He hasn’t stopped moving since we arrived, like a shark that will die if it stays still or shuts up for two seconds.
“This is bullshit,” Zayn mutters, loud enough for all of us to hear. “Four fucking hours and they can’t tell us anything?”
I don’t respond. Leadership isn’t always about having answers. Sometimes it’s about knowing when to shut up and let people process. And right now, we’re all processing the impossible.
The scent lingers in my nostrils hours later. Woodsmoke, rich and earthy. Not light and sweet like most omegas, but unmistakable all the same. I remember the moment on the ice when I leaned in close to Darren, expecting the neutral beta scent I’ve known for years. Instead, I got hit with that warm woodsmoke aroma that triggered something primitive in my brain. Alpha recognizing omega.
Myomega.
Impossible, but undeniable.
We’re all scent matched. Even Darren. I knew he belonged to our pack from the moment we met, but it’s always been… different. Subtler.
Now…
“You all smelled it too, right?” Zayn finally says what we’ve been dancing around. “That wasn’t just some weird concussion hallucination?”
Dmitri’s massive shoulders tense. “You’d have to be the onewiththe concussion to have a hallucination,bratan. But it makes no sense.”
