The idea of having another pack sends my mind into a tailspin. And finding an Omega? I’ve given up on that dream. I’ve vowed to myself that I would never get involved with an Omega unless they were my scent match.
There’s only so many times a man can fall for someone, only to have them ripped away because they found someone better—someone the universe hand-picked for them. I never stood a chance.
I’m young. I still have a lot of my life left to live. There’s still lots of time to find my happily ever after.
Back then, I was so desperate to have a piece of that happily-ever-after that I joined the first pack that I got along with.
I won’t be making that mistake again.
Even if I find my scent match, who says I’d want to be a part of that pack? Unless he or she has other scent matches, I’d much rather just take care of them alone. I can give them what they need; I don’t need anyone else.
In the meantime, I’ll work, save up for a place of my own, and see where the next part of my life takes me.
That is... if I don’t drop dead from the depression first.
Hopefully, the new meds will kick in soon.
Kicking off my boots, I head straight for the couch and groan as the relief of being off my feet after a twelve-hour shift washes over me.
It was one of the harder days, that’s for sure. We were handling a party for a celebrity, and things got a little crazy. Their location got leaked by the media, and what was supposedto just be a job working the perimeter of the building ended up being a group of us holding off rowdy fans.
They didn’t get inside, but they sure as hell tried.
“How was your day?” my stepsister, Stella, asks as she makes her way into the living room.
Rolling my head to the side, I sigh, hardly able to keep my eyes open.
“Wonderful,” I mumble sarcastically.
She gives me a smirk. “I can tell.”
“What are you up to? Hell, why are you even up? It’s two in the morning.” My brows furrow, looking at the watch on my wrist.
“I’m sixteen.” She rolls her eyes. “Not six.”
“Yeah, but it’s a school night. You’re going to be tired.”
She raises a brow. “Ah, no, it’s not. It’s Friday.”
“What?” My eyes widen. “Really?”
She looks at me with concern. “Are you okay?” she asks, looking me over. “You look beat.”
“That’s what a twelve-hour shift will do to you,” I sigh, closing my eyes, the feeling of sleep ready to take over me any second now.
“That's not what I’m talking about,” she says, her voice sounding more distant as I drift off. I’m out like a light before we finish the conversation, but I know she’s worried about me.
Everyone has been for a long time now.
When I wake the next morning, my head is pounding like crazy.
If I didn’t know better, I’d say I’d have been drinking all night, rather than working.
“Fuck,” I grunt when a sharp stabbing pain hits me in my back.
“Sleeping on that tiny couch will do that,” my little sister, Lilly, quips.
“Fucking hell,” I gasp, eyes flying open to see her looming over me, practically in my face.
