I plant a kiss on the top of his crown. "There's nothing to forgive."
He leans forward, resting his head on his knees, his shoulders shuddering, silently.
I gently stroke his back.
"Love, do you have a contact number for Lauren Treloar's assistant? I couldn't see it on the booking and they haven't acknowledged the cancellation."
He roughly swipes the back of his hand against his eyes, and pinches the bridge of his nose.
"Uh. Yeah, sure. Hang on." His voice is thick.
He passes me the phone, with a contact pulled up. I hit the call button, but it goes straight to a cheerful voicemail.
Shit.
"… can't come to the phone right now, so leave a message."
"Uh, hi, this is Allen from Pack X. Um, unfortunately we have just learned that we will not be able to support Lauren in her heat on this occasion, so we just wanted to touch base and confirm you have alternative heat support available, and, uh, to offer to help you locate an alternative support pack. And, uh, we will do whatever you need to ensure they are supported if required. If you could please call Ra—uh, Clarke as soon as possible, that would be great, thanks. Bye."
I hang up the phone, sighing, and run my hand over my face.
My phone has lit up with replies to my messages. All those texts from packs who swore they owed us, who'd promised us a favor, saying the same thing in so many different ways.Sorry buddy, wish we could help, we know we owe you, but we're booked.
Shit.
I shoot off another handful of texts. Alphas I've known from when we used to work heat clinics, who'd shown they were trustworthy, who've gone down the heat support route. Alphas who I helped get their first booking in the industry, when omegas helped reach out to us when we were already committed.
I furrow my brow, racking my brains, as more apologies roll back in.
... but who supports you?
I guess,technically, we had one supporter—well, onepackof supporters—once. And because they helped us when we needed it, we helped them forge the connections they needed to get where they are. But that was so long ago. They went stratospheric years ago, leaving us mere mortals behind. They've probably forgotten. I probably don't even have their number any more.
My alpha, who I've been suppressing with an iron will since I woke up this morning, gives an unbidden scrabble at my chest.
Another surge of guilt rolls through me like the tidal pull through a polluted river.
I have to try.
I flick through my contacts, holding my breath.
Well, look at that. Turns out never cleaning up your contacts list has some advantages.
Crossing my fingers, I shoot off one last text and put the phones down on the coffee table. I rub the back of Clarke's neck with a soothing hand, sending all the calm I have in me to him down the bond, and then stand up.
I have to look after my pack now.
Chapter 24
The loud banging on my front door wakes me up, but my body is too heavy to move. A little light is creeping into my nest—into the cupboard—from where I left the door cracked open.
It must be early afternoon by now.
There's a scrabbling outside as the lock rattles, and some aggressively female swearing. The front door bursts open with a bang. I jump.
"Right," I hear Loz's voice growl, "who do I need to go and fuck up and where thefuckare they?"
She pauses. "Dellie?" Her voice softens a little.
