“Where are you going?” I force myself between him and the door. One night away from his desk means another night Parker’s without his powers.
“I have plans,” he says, his wide stare imploring me to move.
“Cancel them,” I say, my feet glued in place.
“No. We don’t all share your craving for a melancholic existence.”
“Fuck you.”And fuck his simple, easy life.I pick up the faded fabric chair I’ve sat in every night for seven and a half months, and hurl it across the room. It smacks into the bookcase against the wall, remaining infuriatingly intact as it clatters to the floor. This is how it begins. At first it’s just a night off, but then it becomes two. Then three. McGregor will continue with his life, and I’ll be stuck here, alone, waiting for a promise that will never come. I’m powerless to stop it.
I wrap my arms about my chest and hold my breath, containing the scorching pressure in my lungs. The same pressure that’s built every day since Matthews threw us into this mess. Tears sting the back of my eyes, and I clamp them shut, blocking out McGregor still standing uselessly before me. Dropping into a crouch, I shove my face into my knees and stifle the guttural cry that rips from my throat.
McGregor wraps his beefy arms around me, squeezing the air from my lungs. He doesn’t say a word, but his steadfast embrace remains while I break apart, gulping down air laced with coffee, musk and dust. I cry away the unbearable tension I’ve carried since the day we fled Neurovida, only stopping once my chest is numb and my voice a hoarse bark.
“I’m alright,” I say, shrugging McGregor off.
He releases me and pats me curtly on the back, as if I’ve just got a C in a quiz or failed my first driving exam. “It’s the anniversary of my son’s death today,” he says, and clears his throat. “I’m visiting his grave.”
“I’m sorry.”
He nods his appreciation. “We’ll get back to it tomorrow,” he says, a rare softness in his voice. “I promise.”
I follow him out of his office and leave him to lock up, my sluggish steps carrying me toward my favorite supply closet. McGregor halts me with a hand to my shoulder. “Rose, wait.” He pauses for a moment. Exhales. “I pushed everyone in my life away after he died. Buried myself in work. Destroyed my marriage. Don’t end up like me. You’re too young to be alone.”
“I want to be alone.” The words roll off my tongue.
“For someone who wants to be alone, you’re spending a hell of a lot of time trying to get Parker back.” I can’t standthe weight of his sharp, blue eyes. Shifting on my feet, my gaze wanders past his burly shoulder, searching for purchase, but the corridor behind him is dark and empty. He sighs again. “Goodnight, Rose.”
I return to the supply closet and travel to my empty apartment, collapsing onto my bed. McGregor’s parting words circulate around my head like the annoying jingle of a cheesy commercial.
Clamping my eyes shut, I slow my breathing and prepare to travel. But every time I conjure a memory from Neurovida, the emptiness inside my chest expands, the faces of the Alphas flashing through my mind.
Matthews’ face appears, and I grit my teeth. I wish I’d never gone to Neurovida. I wish I’d never befriended Ella’s future self enough to care about her or felt indebted enough to her to help Parker. I wish I’d never opened up to Matthews, become so close that his betrayal still stings like an open wound. I wish I’d never become an Alpha. I was better off on the streets.
The memory of the biting January wind breezes through my brain. I blink and I’m standing on a street corner, watching my past self sleep. Huddled in a closed shop entranceway, she tucks her blackened feet beneath a blanket so dirty it’s difficult to tell what color it once was. My hand aches, fingers cold and stiff around the pocketknife clutched in my palm. Down the street, a trash can crashes to the ground, and rubbish scatters across the pavement. My past self jerks awake, her head snapping toward the group of rowdy men moving in her direction.
My heart rate kicks into a gallop, each beat hammering in my ears. Any wisp of warmth contained within that dingy,concrete entranceway is lost as she flees down the alleyway beside the building, torn between her safety and the tattered blanket she’s left behind.
I jerk out of the memory, my heart rate slowing the moment my room appears, but the whispers of my echo scratch beneath my skin like razor-sharp claws. I’d waited for two hours in that alley before I’d gathered the courage to return to my sleeping place for the night, starving and freezing, lacking the energy to muster tears.
I rub my hands over my face. I hadn’t been living; I’d been scraping by. How quickly I’d forgotten. The fear of being attacked, the craving for a safe place. By the time I was recruited to Neurovida, I was too terrified to get comfortable, ready to be back on the streets at a moment’s notice. Why did I take every second at Neurovida for granted? Why didn’t I realize what I had and the family I was creating? Why did I spend every second pushing Parker away?
Now I have what I’ve always wanted. A small fortune from my salary at Neurovida. Housed and safer than I ever was on the streets. And I’m alone… just like I’ve always wanted. Alone andmiserable. The emptiness in the pit of my stomach swells. McGregor was right. I’ve spent every minute fighting to get Parker back. And not just for the person Ella will become.For me.
“You’re my family.”
I was too stubborn to accept it. To believe I could be anything to him. But if the last few months have taught me anything, it’s how much better life is with Parker in it. But until McGregor uncovers Parker’s cure, I’m stuck.
I sit up, swinging my legs off the edge of the bed. I need to get Parker back. But how? Bringing him back here willonly make things worse. I stand and pace my room, hacking at my nails. “What do I do?” I cry to the empty room.What would Parker do?
If he were here right now, he’d slip his hands into his pockets with a nonchalant shrug and tell me not to worry.Blasé motherfucker.Hell, the world could be burning to the ground, and he’d pour himself a glass of whiskey on the rocks and tell me to have a little—
My mouth falls open.Faith.Ella’s advice the night of the ball comes crashing back to me:You need to have a little faith.
Parker would tell me to have faith. To trust. Trust myself. Trust McGregor, who’s spent the past seven months working every night to help us.
“What else do you need?”
“Time.”
