Page 26 of Puck Your Bunny

"Are you kidding me right now?" Kristy's voice rises. "Pull your head out of your ass, Vayda, and look at the truth. You can't live without them."

"I survived just fine for years." The words sound weak even to my own ears.

Kristy lets out a frustrated huff. "You call that surviving? You look like a walking skeleton half the time. You hide in massive clothes. You pass out from the pain. If you want to keep living for Brendan, you can't keep letting your body succumb to bond rejection sickness. It's a fatal condition. You were running out of time, and we both knew it."

I stop pacing and lean my hip against the counter, staring at the faded wallpaper as the truth settles in. The doctors told me the same thing months ago; my organs were showing the strain of the constant hormonal imbalance.

"You have Alphas out there who can help you." Kristy's tone softens. "They stayed when things got messy. They stepped up. You won the Omega lottery twice in one lifetime. Two sets of scent-matched Alphas. Do you have any idea how rare that is?"

I stare at the floorboards, admitting the core of my panic aloud. "It feels like a betrayal."

Kristy's voice comes through soft and steady. "Brendan, Emmett, and Hale wouldn't want you to torture yourself. They loved you. They would want you to live."

I close my eyes, fighting the sudden burn of tears.

A sigh crackles through the speaker. "I have to get to work. Just think about it, Vayda. Open your eyes and stop punishing yourself for surviving. I'll call you tomorrow."

The call ends. Lowering the phone, I set it on the counter. The silence in the kitchen feels too loud, leaving my coffee untouched as I walk down the short hallway toward the living room.

Stepping into the living room, the space is dominated by medical equipment. Boxes of latex gloves, adult briefs, and sterile wipes sit stacked on a metal shelving unit against the far wall.

Brendan sits in his wheelchair parked next to the sofa. The padded headrest supports his skull, keeping his neck straight, though his messy blonde hair still sticks up in the back from rubbing against the fabric. His hands curl inward on the armrests, his fingers curled against his palms.

The television is on. A nature documentary plays on the screen, bathing the dark living room in a soft blue light. Glowing pink and orange jellyfish float across the glass in slow, rhythmic pulses, and the narrator's voice hums low and steady from the speakers.

I sit on the sofa right beside his chair. Cali trots out from the hallway, jumping up to curl into my lap, and purrs as I stroke her fur. The familiar scent of fresh rain and driftwood rolls off him. It used to be a vibrant, aggressive scent filling the house, but now it's just a faint, muted background noise.

Reaching into the open box on the coffee table, I pull out a sterile wipe and dab the drool off his chin. Brendan remains still, his bright blue eyes locked on the floating jellyfish. The left side of his face droops, erasing the handsome smile I used to love so much.

Dropping the used wipe into the trash can next to the sofa, I fold my hands over Cali in my lap and stare at the blue light reflecting off the television screen.

I rest my head back against the sofa cushions, the guilt bubbling up my throat. "I messed up, Bren."

Brendan blinks, letting out a low, single-syllable humming noise while keeping his eyes fixed on the TV. I have no clue how much he understands. The doctors say his cognitive function is comparable to a toddler, but sometimes I look in his eyes and see flashes of the man who used to hold me.

I stare at the glowing jellyfish, letting the confession spill into the quiet room. "My heat hit early. I ran into three Alphas at the arena on Friday, and their scent triggered my cycle. They're a perfect match, Bren." I swallow the tight knot forming in my throat. "The fever almost killed me this time. Kristy brought them here, and my body just took over. I gave in."

Leaning forward, I set Cali gently on the floor before resting my elbows on my knees and burying my face in my hands.

A tear slips out, rolling down my cheek to hit the fabric of my sweatpants. "I let them knot me, Bren. I surrendered to my instincts. I just wanted the pain to stop."

Brendan makes another humming noise, this one higher in pitch.

I lift my head to look at his profile. "I'm sorry. I'm so sorry. I'm a traitor. I betrayed you, and Emmett, and Hale. I promised I'd never let another pack touch me. I promised I'd stay loyal to what we built together."

I reach out and rest my hand on top of his warm, curled fingers.

I squeeze his hand, leaning in close. "I promise you I won't ever be with them again. I sent them away. I told them to never come back. I won't let anyone disrupt your life or make you thinkyou aren't the priority. It's just going to be you and me, Bren. Just like always. I'm so sorry for betraying you."

The rhythmic pulsing of the jellyfish on the screen illuminates the room in a bright flash of pink.

Brendan's fingers twitch under my hand.

Freezing, I hold my breath and watch his hand. His curled fingers begin to uncurl with agonizing effort. The movement is jerky, requiring massive effort, but he shifts his hand sideways until his fingers brush mine and hooks his index finger around my thumb.

It's a deliberate gesture he only ever does when he is having a rare, lucid day.

Brendan turns his head away from the television, his neck muscles straining as he fights the permanent droop of his posture. Locking his bright blue eyes right on my face, clarity fills his stare.