I wince as I gulp too hard, the hot tea searing my tongue. “I don’t know. He barely spoke to me. There was just this overwhelming… attraction, I guess. I thought he felt it too, but …” I can’t finish the rest. Here I am asking for a diagnosis of bond sickness, and the object of my obsession commanded me tostay away.
“I can tell you’re feeling pretty low right now,” Janice says quietly, “but don’t assume it was all you. What do we tell our patients?” I stare at her, blank, and she gives me a sad smile. “Alphas have trauma too, Abbie.”
I feel my cheeks grow warm as I remember the haunted look in the alpha’s eyes. When exactly did my brain cells run off with my clinical detachment? “Yeah, I guess I didn’t think about that.”
Janice sips her coffee for a while, watching me over the rim. I don’t interrupt her, because I came here for her wisdom, and rushing her would be rude. Even if my knee is bouncing under the table like it’s on a spring. “Can you call him?” she asks finally. “Ask him why he left without exploring the connection?”
I scowl, because of course she knows he ran away. If all had gone according to the textbooks, I’d be off blissfully riding an alpha’s knot, instead of slinking around the hospital cafeteria like a lovesick Victorian wraith. “I don’t even know his name. We move in some of the same circles, though.” I press my lips together, because club business is still club business even if I never step inside the gates again. “I could probably find out more, though.”
“Then I suggest you try seeing him again,” Janice says calmly. “As long as you have the right support around you, you should get the answers you need.”
I mull that over.Do I consider the Iron Flyers a support group?Maybe if I had a question about the benefits of synthetic oil over conventional, or exactly how much gasoline to wood ratio is required for the club bonfire to reach maximum burning capacity.
“Thanks, Janice.”
She reaches over to squeeze my hand. “Don’t worry too much, Abbie. Scent matches usually find their way back to each other. The bond is too strong to stay away.” That gives me more hope than probably anything else she’s said, and it must be pretty obvious, because she gives me a fond smile. “If you want to talk more, we’re all here for you, okay?”
She gestures around at our colleagues and I nod, but I keep my head down until I get out into the fresh air. I’m so focused on filling my lungs, I don’t notice the other omega until I nearly walk into him. “Damien!”
“Hi, Abbie.” He smiles shyly, tugging his long woolen coat tighter around his slender frame. He looks good – bright-eyed and pink-cheeked – and he’s holding a bunch of red roses wrapped in an expensive velvet ribbon. “These are for you,” he says, thrusting the bouquet into my hands. “I wanted to apologize for the way I behaved last time I was here.”
“Really?” I accept the flowers awkwardly and look over my shoulder, feeling disoriented. “Are you here to check in…?”
“No, I was just going to ask reception to send them to you. I rang a couple of days ago and they said you were on leave.” His curious gaze scans me from head to toe, and I’m not surprised that he looks concerned. “Is everything okay?”
“I’m fine.” How many times do you have to say something before it becomes true? “I’ve just had a touch of the flu.” I shakemy head as I study the beautiful bouquet. “You really don’t need to apologize, Damien.”
Now, more than ever, I empathize with his unruly emotions. And can I blame him for wanting the comfort of another omega, when the alphas of our world are so damn complicated?
My heart pinches as I think of Wings. His face flashes in my mind, the hurt in his eyes when I told him I needed space… Right when his own club – and the only home he’s ever known - is no doubt debating his worth because of his designation.
Fuck.What kind of insensitive asshole am I?
I must look as devastated as I feel, because the driver’s door of a long black limo pops open behind Damien and a hard-faced alpha climbs out. He’s wearing a dark suit, but based on the bulging shoulders under his jacket, he wouldn’t look out of place at a bike rally. When he catches my eye, his scowl is pretty outlaw, too.
“Ignore Lucas,” Damien says with a dismissive wave in his direction. “He’s my parents’ idea. An overreaction, as usual.”
He has his back to the other man, so he doesn’t see the way the alpha watches him, possessiveness etched into every rigid muscle. “Is everything okay withyou?”
“It will be.” Damien offers me a radiant smile. “I’m going away. An extended holiday on the coast.” He reaches into his pocket and pulls out a business card. “These are my details. Call if I can do anything for you, Abbie. No matter what it is.”
I look at him in surprise, because I think it’s the first time a patient has ever offered to helpme. A surprised squeak escapes me as he pulls me in for a quick hug. “Thanks for restoring my faith in… people.”
As his slender arms release me, I breathe in his sweet scent. Maybe it’s just the flowers between us, but he smells better than he has in all the times I’ve treated him. “I’m glad you’re doing so well, Damien.”
“Well, you know what they say.” He gives me a wink. “It helps if you have a great therapist.”
Chapter Nine: ABBIE
The apartment is still empty when I get back, but I’ve only just managed to find a vase big enough to take Damien’s bouquet when there’s a loud knock at the door. I brush off my hands, my heart fluttering as I hurry over to peek through the peephole. I know full well that Wings has his own key and therefore isn’t going to knock, but I can’t help hoping it’s him. I’ve already dreamed up a dozen ways to apologize - most of them involving rose petals, chocolate, and vodka in some combination – so it’s not surprising that my brain has trouble processing the sight on the other side of the door.
As I pull it open, I stare in shock at Wings’ younger sister. “Trixie… Is that you?”
I remember her as a wide-eyed fourteen-year-old with pin-straight hair down to her butt and an oversized sketch pad under her arm. Now she has a shock of spiky pink hair, an Iron Flyers’ cut, and a bottle of Gray Goose clutched in her hand. “Happy housewarming!” she crows, thrusting the bottle at me. “It’s so good to finally see you again, Abbie!”
“You too…” I take a step back as she skips into the apartment,her bright blue eyes dancing as they bounce around the room. She’s a splash of vibrant color in my gray apartment, her short denim skirt paired with a purple sequined tank and a pair of pink Converse and lime green socks. “Thanks for the housewarming gift, but I’ve actually been living here a while.”
She screws up her delicate nose at me. “I know! Wings finally cracked and told me where he’s been spending half his life. I thought he was a secret stripper or maybe recruited into some Black Ops bullshit.” She looks excitedly at the row of cardboard boxes still stacked against the wall. “You’re packed already? That’s such a relief. Wings said you were still kinda unclear about the timeline…”
