My feet almost move of their own accord. I want to go to her and say something—anything—but I’m on the clock, and there’s protocol, and more than that, I don’t know what I’d even say. Sorry for being a fuckup? Sorry for blowing you off when you needed us to be better than we were?
Instead, I catch her gaze just as I pass by. All she does is give me a nod.
That’s it.
I nod back, then hit the stairs two at a time, and radio in the all-clear.
It’s nothing, just a false alarm. That’s what I keep telling myself as we pack up the rig, peel off gear, and start to breatheagain. But the scent of burnt sugar and nerves lingers on my skin, and I know that nothing is exactly that simple.
There’s not a single false alarm where Grace is concerned. The reality of that hits me like a fire truck at full speed.
Grace is our pack’s omega. Except she’s not, because we told her to get lost.
What an idiot.
When Captain Vega claps me on the shoulder and tells me to take a minute before we head back to the station, I know he’s not talking about shift change. He meansher.
I turn back toward the building and promise myself I’ll say something this time. Grace is still there in the alcove with Charlotte when I return. But so are a bunch of reporters who have swooped in to cover the emergency call at the Reverie cast apartments even though it’s a false alarm. Anything for catchy media, right?
I head back to Grace. My tongue goes dry as soon as I start. “Grace. About everything, prep camp and what me and the guys did to you?—”
She cuts me off, not loud but sharp as a blade. “Don’t. You’re on shift, and I don’t need a public apology.”
I flinch. I didn’t think about how humiliating that might be for her, standing here with me in turnout gear, helmet tucked under my arm like some cartoon hero.
“I’m not trying to make a scene,” I say. “I just—shit, Grace, none of us ever got to say sorry.”
She raises an eyebrow. “Why would you think simply saying ‘sorry’ fixes it?”
My mouth hangs open as I process her question. “I—I didn’t?”Fuck me.“I’m not good at this, okay? But the guilt is real. Even if my words come out fucked.”
“No, it’s not okay.” Grace crosses her arms and gives a nod to Charlotte over her shoulder. Charlotte backs away down thehall to give Grace and I privacy, although I doubt it’ll be for long. “You three seriously hurt me, and you don’t seem to understand that.”
“I do.”
“Doyou?”
I swallow hard. “We rejected you.”
She inclines her head. “Yes, and not just as a potential pack omega,as a person. You all rather publicly stated that I wouldn’t be fit as an omega and then tried to getmeremoved from Reverie in order foryou threeto be able to stay.” She swipes a hand through the air. “And then you and Zev left anyway. Thank god I didn’t quit.”
My stomach sinks. I knew all of this, but processing it with empathy is something I apparently lacked until this very moment.Fucking hell.“Grace?—”
She lifts a hand. “I’m not interested in anything other than awkward glances, Fowler. You three made it clear that despite being scent-matches an omega, or very specificallymeas your omega, wasn’t something you wanted. Not even as a friend. So that’s where things will stay.”
I see an opening, risky though it is. “Well, awkward glances is better than we had before, so I’ll take it.”
A few moments pass where I’m convinced I’ve just made the chasm between us larger with a dumb as fuck comment. But then a small smile graces the corner of Grace’s lips.
“Fine, I’ll give you that much.”
Yes. Success.“Thank you.”
Grace shakes her head. “No, thank you for making sure we’re safe.” She indicates the fire trucks outside.
“Of course. It’s my job.”And I’ll do anything to keep you safe.
The thought comes naturally to my mind, but there’s not a single weight to back it up with. There’s no reason to fight likehell to keep her safe. We’re barely friends. Barely acquaintances at this point if I’m being honest.
