My mouth puckers.
Allen's frown is deepening as he walks back and forth, tapping his phone against his leg. I stride over to him, and spin him towards me. I glare at him. He looks away.
"Do youhonestlythink she would have voluntarily not only spoken to Ralph's mom, but actually spent time in the same room as her, if she didn't want to talk to us?"
Ralph's faint, incensed cry of "I heard that,"is barely audible from the shower. Seb's snort of amusement is much louder.
Allen's mouth twitches. "No. No, it's not that. I just haven't managed to get in touch with Lauren or her assistant, and we still haven't had acknowledgement of the cancellation. It's just… wrong to leave her in the lurch like that."
"All the other heat support bookings are cancelled now, right?"
His thumb is rubbing over his eyebrow like he has a headache. "All the other heat support ones, yeah."
An involuntary sigh of relief escapes out of my mouth.
He sighs, and runs his hands through his hair. "I guess I can take a taxi to her place and talk in person? But…"
Ah.
"But if she calls, and you're not there…"
He ruffles his fingers against his hair. "This is fucking ridiculous. Absolutely ridiculous. I'm a fucking adult and I'm acting like…"
His breath shoots sharply through his nose as he shakes his head, his eyes closed.
"I don't know. You seem to be acting like an alpha whose scent match ran from him and might be about to make contact again?"
His lips twitch. I wrap an arm around his shoulder. "C'mon, oh moral compass. We can all go. Face the music as a pack. That way, we can at least meet Lauren Treloar, even if we never get to tell anyone."
Chapter 28
Sitting in the back of Loz's limo with a wilting pint of cookie dough ice-cream and what feels like an unexploded bomb sitting on my phone is less fun than you might think. I must have drafted—and deleted—fifty different messages. To Ralph, to Seb, to all of them.
Hi, it's Dellie
Hey, so about the other night
Uh, so I'm just gonna say it, I wanna lick your chest
Nothing feels right. My omega is screaming, convinced all she has to do is call and they will come running. I'm trying to calm her down, explain it isn't that simple, that we—that I—hurt them by assuming I knew what was best for them.
Arg.
I delete my latest attempt—hey, so wanna get naked again?—and call Loz. She picks up on the second ring.
"Got the ice-cream, babes?"
I smile. Loz's priorities always get a little clearer when her heat's approaching.
"Yep. It might be a bit sad by the time I get back, though. The shop didn't have a cooler bag."
There's a distinctly omega whine, followed by a low curse. "How long 'til you're home, babes?"
I glance out the window. "Maybe five minutes?"
A crackly huff, followed by another muttered curse over the unfairness of thermodynamics, rattles in my ear. I snort.
"Sorry, Loz. Lord Kelvin clearly has it in for you."
