Page 102 of Heat Lightning

Not just like, the feeling of wanting to hear someone’s voice or yearning for their touch. I ached for him, viscerally. It felt like every moment without him pulled my skin away from the muscle and sinew, begging to be re-shaped by the touch of his hands.

Was this how he felt for two whole years? How did he survive it? Why didn’t he come to me sooner?

My omega begged to turn around and drive to wherever he was, but I forced myself to walk into the diner instead. The bell jingled when I entered, and Gwen waved me over to a little booth.

“Hey,” she greeted, far more muted than usual. She looked marginally better than me, but not by much.

“Hey.” I pulled out the menu, looking for something fried and greasy. Hangover food seemed appropriate, given the circumstances. “What’s good here?”

She shrugged. “It’s been a while, but the turkey club is my go-to.”

The waiter came over and took our orders. It wasn’t too busy for the lunch hour, so when she left, the silence between Gwen and me grew tense and charged.

“I hate this,” I said with a sigh.

Her eyes grew watery. “Me too. I’m really sorry, Max. Really, really sorry. Keeping you in the dark sucked a lot. I just wasn’t sure what you or Atlas wanted or if it was my place to step in. But you really are my best friend, and I shouldn’t have lied. Ask me anything. Whatever you want to know, I’ll tell you. No more secrets. I promise.”

I believed her. Whether or not it was just because I couldn’t handle losing the only real friend I’d ever had, I couldn’t stay mad.

“Do you actually work for Mr. Marino?” I asked, sipping my water. I really wanted to know how she’d become friends with them in the first place, but I wasn’t brave enough to ask yet, so I might as well start with the basics.

She seemed to sense that, though. “Yeah, I do. But that’s a long story, and it starts well before I worked for them.”

Them? That reminded me of something Atlas had said last night.

I’m your boss. You can’t be fired; I won’t allow it.

Did she work for them both? What did she do for Atlas?

“Our parents ran in the same circles,” Gwen began. “Wealthy. Like, beyond rich. Disgustingly so. The parties these people threw…”

She shook her head and continued. “Anyway. The three of us were dragged to the same galas, charity dinners, and garden whatever-the-fucks for most of our teenage years. I was a stuck-up brat, Saint played the part of dutiful son, and Atlas climbed the walls trying to be anywhere else.”

She chuckled, eyes full of mirth. “One time when we were at some horrible, stuffy party, I said I wanted to go home early because I’d DVR’d the season finale of Gilmore Girls on the TV in my room. Ten minutes later, the electricity for the whole building went out. Everyone had to evacuate. Finding our way to the parking lot was a disaster. And there Atlas stood, cool as a cucumber with his hands in his pockets and tie undone. I knew immediately he’d done it somehow.”

I laughed with her, but an unfamiliar burn of longing and jealousy dug at my insides. I wanted to know that young, restless version of him. Where was the aquarium he went to with his mom? Where did he get his first kiss? When did he start… vigilante’ing? Would he have wanted me, if we met back then?

He doesn’t even really want you, now, that insidious voice whispered.

Well. There was that.

I peered at Gwen. “Were you two ever, you know, involved?”

With a snort, she shook her head. “No. I was more the annoying little sister they couldn’t get rid of.” Her face turned grave. “The three of us always talked about running off into the night to start our lives over somewhere new, but then Saint agreed to an arranged marriage set up by his father.”

I could’ve cut the silence with a knife. “I’ve always wondered about Enzo’s omega parent,” I said quietly.

“No,” she said with a wave of her hand. “Thankfully, that horrid man isn’t Enzo’s dad. But that story is for another day.”

Seriously? How many secrets did this family have?

“Saint’s divorce was nasty. The amount of money that foul man walked away with would make you pass out, but it set a lot of things in motion.” She took a deep breath. “And I decided I couldn’t do what Saint did. I couldn’t marry a parent-approved match—one who was alpha enough to make up for the fact I wasn’t a waif of an omega. They never got over that.”

Gwen had always seemed so confident in who she was, but that was clearly still a sore spot. “I’m sorry.”

“So, I ran off,” she continued with a sigh. “With a guy I met at the gym, of all places. He was everything my parents hated and didn’t know who I was, or more importantly, who my parents were, which made him perfect. At least for a time.”

Our food arrived, but I was too focused on her story. “Was he the one you told me about?” I asked quietly.