I want to punch something.
Zev leans against the wall. “Are you gonna talk to her?”
“She won’t even look at me unless Hannah directs it,” I snap, then regret how quick it comes out. “She… probably wants me dead. All of us dead.”
Fowler lumbers over. He’s the only person alive who could get banished from the NHL for being too reckless and then promptly get hired as a firefighter for the same reason. “She didn’t say anything?”
“She hasn’t said a word to me since…” I trail off. We all know since when. “It’s not like she rushed over to talk to you idiots, either.”
Zev sighs in a way that’s dangerously close to resignation. “Maybe she’ll change her mind.”
I whip around at him. “‘Change her mind?’Werejectedher, dumbass. She’s not ‘changing her mind.’”
Zev swallows hard. Fowler looks just as miserable. Because the truth is that the moment that last conversation with her during prep camp was over, we realized we fucked up. Her ghost has haunted us since.
And now she’s here, and her omega scent lingers like a final sting.
Zev shifts his weight. “We could have handled it better, yeah.”
Understatement of the year.
“Could have handled it at all,” Fowler adds. “Instead of ghosting her after we told her off.”
I want to defend myself. Hell, I want to defend all of us. But the words curdle in my mouth and I just stand there, clutching the mesh bag so hard the plastic cuts into my palm.
Sometimes you don’t get to fix mistakes. They’re just mistakes, and you live with the consequences.
Fowler squares up to me. “So what? Are we just going to ignore her for the next three months? Are you even going to be able to do the show without losing your shit?”
Hell if I know.“I have to do the show whether I lose my shit or not.” I glance between the two of them. “Grace wants nothing to do with us, so let’s just keep our heads down and to ourselves.” Best behavior, every single one of us.
“And if that’s not enough?” Zev’s voice is so low I almost miss it.
I shrug. “What else is there? I don’t think she’s interested in a do-over.”
Fowler snorts. “She’s an omega and has to work with you every day. She can probably successfully ignore the rest of us, but you?” He shakes his head.
My brain spits up an image of Grace in the final scene of Act Two, where she’s supposed to fall into my arms and let me“rescue” her. The closest I’ll ever get to the real thing, even if what I’m rescuing her from are our own actions.
I want to ask what they would do, but the answer is too obvious. Ignore it all as best they can. And hope that none of us end up in rut, or she in heat.
“Did she smell different to you?” Fowler asks softly.
“She always smells the same.” My words are more defensive than I mean them to be. She’s their potential omega, too. “Like the world’s last perfect rose.”
Zev frowns. “She smells more pointed now. Like she’s on edge.” He meets my eyes. “Can you handle that?”
He means, will I go off the rails? Will I pull some alpha bullshit and make it worse?
Fowler cracks his neck, then shoves his hands in his pockets. “Well, I don’t know about you two, but I’ve had a long day at the firehouse and an early shift tomorrow. Should we get dinner?”
Zev claps his hands together once. “Let’s get pizza.”
“Yeah,” I say. “Let’s eat.”
Typical Reverie Pack fashion.Ignore. Ignore. Ignore.
That’s all we ever do. Maybe that’s why we’re such great friends.
