“Shite. I didn’t even think about that before I spoke. You’re right. I’ll apologize. But it’s still over.” Guilt ate at me. Dusty was the kind of guy who internalized everything.
But I couldn’t endanger my heart or career.
“If that’s what you want, I’ll support you. I just want you to be happy.”
I rested my head on her chest and held her for a moment, relishing in her comfort, her peppermint scent, the peace she brought me.
After Liam’s betrayal, I left home. I’d been recruited to the Company and threw myself into it, and made myself into exactly what they claimed I was. A cold, heartless killer.
Then, I had to keep running into this little redhead omega, witha penchant for trouble at the club. Just seeing her made me soften. I thought she was too good for me. After all, she was an omega–a very privileged omega.
Who pursued me relentlessly.
Not unlike how Dusty was now.
“I should see if he’s still here,” I said.
“I’m glad you’re willing to apologize. I’m proud of you for doing that.” She kissed me.
“I do own my mistakes, and I know I crossed the line, even if his words upset me.” After all, I had kissed him back, fucked him, and had been having agreattime until he started talking about feelings.
“Should you perhaps finish dressing?” Smirking, she patted my ass.
I looked down. “Perhaps.”
Dusty wasn’t in the bunkroom. My clothes lay in the middle of the floor. I put them on and went downstairs.
In the living room, Hale had arranged several undressed dolls into what I could only suppose was a doll sex party. Others were posed on the table with lines of white powder as he took pictures.
“What are you doing? I hope you’re not sending those to your siblings, they’ll be traumatized.” I was traumatized. While I’d played doll assassins as a child, it seemed wrong to have them do such things.
He laughed and took another. “Oh, they’re going into the older sibling group chat. But yeah, one of my sisters is traumatized, but not the one I thought would be. Grace thinks it’s funny as shit and keeps suggesting things.”
“Where’s Dusty?” I looked around.
“Dusty just left. He had to head to the club for the meet and greet.” Carlos stood in the kitchen chopping vegetables.
“Making dinner? I thought we were going to get something later. Or is this just a snack?”
“I’m actually making chicken pozole–soup–and putting it inthe slow cooker, so it can cook all night. Dusty already put the beans on for tomorrow.”
Hale looked over at us. “Fucking shit. You mean we’re gonna party all night, get drunk off our asses, and come home to pozole? That is the best shit for hangovers, colds, and heartbreak. Not to mention how much booze beans and rice can sop up.”
“I’m not sure anything’s better for a hangover than pho, but I’m willing to give it a try. My gran used to make some really good chicken soup every time I had a cold.” I could almost taste it.
“You’re close to your gran?” Hale asked.
“I was. My parents were busy with work and left us with her a lot. She always had time for me. Honestly, I liked being at their house a lot better,” I confessed. My grandfathers were all delightful and I missed them.
“I have a grandma that makes chicken soup, too. Any kind of soup with chicken in it made by someone that cares for you is gonna be good.” Hale was texting someone, then ran upstairs.
Carlos looked over at me, concern on his face. “Hey, Dusty’s a really good guy. He didn’t mean to cross the line or push you. He’s really upset about it.”
Dusty thoughthe’dcrossed the line? I was the one who fucked him, then started yelling.
My hand went to my face.
Never mind. Of course he thought it was him pushing me that caused it, not me wrestling with my own inner conflict, because deep down part of me wanted to pursue him and see where it went.
