Then I type before I can lose the nerve.
Me: I need to talk to you both after practice.
Bishop answers first.
Bishop: Okay.
Hollis: good talk or bad talk?
I stare at the question, thumb hovering over the screen. There are a lot of answers I could give but I decide to give them the truth.
Me: Necessary talk.
The typing dots from Hollis appear, vanish, then appear again. I can almost see Bishop taking the phone out of his hand. A moment later, Bishop’s message comes through.
Bishop: We’ll be there.
I tuck the phone into my pocket and head toward the athletic building, irritated, embarrassed, and halfway to brave.
bishop
Judewaitsuntilpracticeis over, which tells me he’s already decided to stay before he gives himself time to run. He keeps to the equipment table while the team clears out, clipboard against his chest and pen tucked between his fingers. He corrects Nelson once when the kickboards end up in the wrong bin, signs off on the lane assignments, and pretends not to notice Hollis watching him from lane four. It would pass for normal if I didn’t know how Jude looks when he’s trying to make himself smaller without disappearing completely.
Hollis notices too. His hands are folded over the pool edge, chin resting on his wrist, goggles pushed up into his wet hair. Every time Jude shifts, Hollis looks at me like he’s waiting for permission to climb out and go to him. I shake my head once. Hollis hates it, but he stays where he is until the freshmen disappear into the locker room and Marsh shuts his office door behind him.
The pool deck quiets down to dripping gutters and the hum of the vents. Jude sets the clipboard on the table with too much care, then walks toward us. He stops several feet away, far enough that Hollis can’t touch him without making it a choice.
I touch Hollis’ wrist before he can move. “Slow, baby.”
Hollis pulls in one breath, climbs out of the pool, and wraps his towel around both hands instead of reaching.
“If you want to know why I ran,” Jude starts, the Omega looking absolutely tortured. “I’m only saying it once, and I don’t want pity. I don’t want an inspirational captain speech. I don’t want Hollis growling at walls because he can’t punch last year.”
Hollis' mouth tightens, but he keeps quiet. I stay turned toward Jude, hands visible, waiting him out without making him ask for the room to speak.
Jude bends the pen clip under his thumb. “I was born scent-blind. I can smell coffee, chlorine, bleach, whatever Nelson eats that should probably require a waiver, but I can’t smell people in the way Omegas are supposed to. Designations don’t register. Pheromones don’t register. I don’t get Alpha, Beta, Omega. I don’t know when someone’s angry unless their face changes. I don’t know when someone wants me unless their body gives it away. I don’t know when my own scent changes unless people start reacting to it.”
Hollis goes still beside me as Jude watches him for the reaction, and when Hollis only grips the towel tighter and keeps his feet where they are, Jude keeps going.
“The blockers weren’t just comfort,” he says. “Everyone talks about them like I needed the world muted because I was fragile. The school required them because without blockers, my scent can hit a room before I know my body is doing anything. I don’t get a warning. Everyone else does. So before meets, I checked everything. Neck, wrists, behind my ears. Spare blocker in my bag, same pocket every time. That was the deal. I could swim as long as my body stayed contained enough for everyone else.”
Contained.
He says it like a rule he accepted because the alternative was losing the water. I move half a step closer to Hollis, shoulder against his arm. He doesn’t look away from Jude, but the touch keeps him with me, keeps him from letting his anger become another thing Jude has to read and manage.
My blood is boiling with what Jude is insinuating but at least I can keep my emotions locked down for the time being. Hollis... god, I love my Alpha, but he’d burn down the world if he thought it would help.
Jude glances toward the pool, his shoulders sagging a little. “Last year, before the meet, my bag had been moved, enough that I noticed. Reece and Tate were being weird and the pocket where I kept my spare blocker was open when I checked it later, and the tube was gone. I told myself I forgot it because that was easier than thinking someone touched my stuff, and I didn’t have time to find another one before warm-ups. The blocker I had on should’ve held. It always held before.”
Hollis' breathing changes, and Jude’s eyes cut back to him immediately, tracking the change without knowing the scent of it. I put my hand at the small of Hollis’ back, not hiding the gesture from Jude.
“Stay with me,” I tell Hollis, low enough that it stays between us. “Let him finish.”
Hollis nods once, jaw locked. Jude waits another second, like he needs to see that the nod means something. Then he looks back at the water and continues. “When it failed, I didn’t know at first. I knew the noise changed. I knew people were looking. I touched the wall, and everyone was too close. Alphas from our team, the other team, people moving toward me like I’d pulled them in on purpose. I didn’t smell anything. I didn’t understand what was happening until there were hands on me.”
Hollis closes his eyes. Only for a second, but I feel the shudder go through him before he forces it down. When he opens his eyes again, they’re wet and furious, and his hands are still trapped in the towel where Jude can see them.
“The report called it voluntary hormonal failure,” Jude says. His mouth tightens around the phrase. “Like I chose it. Like my body made a decision and everyone else just had to react. The official version was that I became unsafe in a high-stress environment and had to be removed for the safety of the team.”
