Helena
I have never knownZane to sleep in. Six on the dot every morning, his phone alarm vibrates with an angry, little wail, and he’s up, sheets thrown back, some internal engine whirring hot. Even if we’re both out half the night—like last night, when he sat sentinel at the kitchen island while I tried to drown my high-society guilt in chamomile tea and the better part of a stale croissant.
But since coming to Seamuse Village, Zane has steadily grown less punctual. More relaxed.
It looks good on him.
Given that, it’s a shock when I wake to find the rental flat sunlit, and Zane not in the living room. Nor is he at the window or pacing the entry. I check the narrow hallway, thinking maybe the old pipes finally failed and he’s trying to fix them for the landlord.
But no. I hear shuffling around outside the kitchen window and spot him in the garden, which has definitely grown into his favorite part of this flat. But enjoyment isn’t what graces his face.
It’s concern.
I hurry down into the garden, where Zane hands me my own phone along with his. “What?—?”
“Three messages, all from Cole to both of us.” Zane’s brow is creased.
I open the texts from Cole and read, but it’s like we’ve summoned him because suddenly his cinnamon scent fills the air. I turn to unlatch the garden gate and there he stands with despair etched onto his face.
“Helena.” His voice cracks in the middle.
Icy shards slice through me and meld my feet to the floor, unmoving. “What happened?”
Cole takes a step inside the garden and reaches for my hands. I take his in mine. “It’s Lucas. They brought him to the hospital. Nearly drowned saving a kid on the beach.”
Everything in me runs backward—the blood in my veins, the thoughts in my head. Even the breath in my lungs. Sound dulls out until I don’t feelhereanymore. “Is he—Did they—” The words get jammed in my throat. “Is he okay?”
Cole’s hands flex tight. He looks at Zane, then at me. “He’s alive. But they’re going to keep him overnight. It was worse than when you…” He can’t bring himself to say it, but I remember the day I first met Lucas very vividly. Cole’s lips quiver. There’s something ancient and animal in his face, an instinct deeper than words.
True friendship.
Zane doesn’t hesitate. “We’re leaving in three. Helena, get dressed. Cole, sit down.”
For once, nobody questions Zane’s orders. I float back to my room to yank on jeans and a loose shirt. But dressing yourself is hard to do with shaky hands.
When I return, Zane’s already locked up the flat. Cole paces by the door like a caged dog. We pile into Zane’s leased car with Cole in the back. Cole’s cinnamon scent floods the space with waves of worry.
We drive in silence for maybe five minutes before I can speak.
Cole directs Zane to the hospital, but I’m not surprised to find Zane’s clearly already mapped the route once before. Probably in prep for being here with me.
I try to picture Lucas, all that sun-bleached energy gone slack, tubes maybe up his nose. The image shreds me. I look at Zane. He’s glued to the road, jaw grinding side to side.
“I should have—” I say, and then stop.
Zane cuts his eyes to me. “You’re not a lifeguard. That’s not your job, Helena. Besides, we’ve been at the flat all morning.”
No!I want to scream. But I am an omega, and he’s my alpha, and something in me is breaking apart because it’s Lucas, because I know how much it would kill him to be useless, even for a second.
“I want to see him.”
Zane nods. “We all do.”
The hospital hunkers at the edge of a headland where the sea wind batters the parking lot with little grains of salt. Zane pulls into a visitor space and we spill out. Cole nearly trips as he tries to hurry ahead. Zane puts a hand on my lower back—steadying, not possessive. Enough to anchor me as we walk inside.
The waiting room is as beige and sad as every hospital I’ve ever known. A bored nurse at the desk tells us to take a seat, that someone will fetch us when Lucas is ready for visitors. Cole collapses onto a plastic chair and hangs his head in his hands. I sit next to him. Zane stands, arms folded.
It’s only now that the gravity settles in. The omega inside me howls, but not with fear—with need. I need to see Lucas. To touch him and assure myself he’s breathing and alive.
