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“Three, actually. I just don’t know what I want yet. Can I have a minute to think about it?”
“Three?” The shock is clear both in her voice and on her face. But then she laughs. “Go big or go home, I like it. Yeah, take your time. I’ll just go hang out with my mate. Holler when you’re ready.”
So she’s mated to Jesse, then. That would be nice, working with your mate. I wonder if the three alphas that work here are also her mates.
“Thank you,” I smile at her as she leaves and then open the heavy binder. I’m immediately blown away. Her work is impeccable. Not that I know anything about tattooing, but I’d know if something was ugly. These are not that. Her work ranges in the binder from simple, small black and white tattoos to the larger, colorful pieces in the back. I’m definitely not brave enough for those, so I stay within the first couple of pages, looking at her small work. Any one of these would cover my marks.
Within the first minute, I already know what I want one of them to be. Then that snowballs into an idea for the second, and within five minutes, I know what I want for all of them. I also know I want one of them to be a surprise.
“Will you go grab B, please?” I bat my lashes at Maverick. Before he leaves, I speak again. “And stay out there? I want it to be a surprise.” He pauses at that, looking a little disappointed, but then sighs and agrees. Part of me hates disappointing him–my omega side is whining a little at not pleasing her alpha–but the bigger part is excited to see his face when the tattoos are done.
It isn’t a long wait before I hear the echoing of footsteps coming from the hallway. B pops her head in first, like a doctor would at an omega clinic, before coming the rest of the way in. “All set then?” she asks, heading over to the counter to prepare. I’ve never gotten a tattoo before, so I’m not sure exactly what she’s doing, but she’s ripping open packages and using a lot of wipes to clean things, so that part, at least, is reassuring.
Once everything is set up, she turns to me. “So, what are we doing?”
Just as I’m about to tell her, my phone rings. “Sorry, let me just…” I pull my phone out of my pocket to hit ignore when I see it’s the clinic.
The clinic… Why would–?
My heart sinks.
In all the hoopla of moving in with the pack, getting Nala, and settling in, I forgot all about my last run-in with Doctor Tanner, when she took my blood to run more tests.
“I’m sorry,” I whisper to B, “I have to take this.”
“Take your time,” she says, and then, mercifully, steps out into the hallway. I still see her, so she hasn’t gone far, but she’s giving me some privacy.
“Hello?” My voice shakes a little when I pick up.
“Summer. It’s Doctor Tanner.” Her voice gives nothing away, and I hate it. I wish I could tell if she’s about to deliver bad news. That way, I could hang up before she has the chance to.
“Yes, hi. How are you?” I ask, falling back on pleasantries automatically.
“I’m good. Thank you. Do you have time to talk for a minute?”
“Yes.” I hesitate. “Is this about the tests you ran?”
There’s a short pause on her end. “It is.”
“Just say it.” For some reason, I already feel the tears welling. Like, Iknowthat it’s bad. Intrinsically, in my soul, I can feel it.
“Well, the good news is, I confirmed all traces of the drug have left your system. There aren’t even small amounts in it anymore. So it would be safe for you to start any suppressants you wanted again.”
“But,” I prompt.
A little sigh on the other end of the line and then a deep breath. “But… I also ran your FSH levels. Those are what would tell us about your ability to conceive. The tests indicate what I feared. You likely…you most likely will not be able to conceive anymore. Certainly not outside of a heat. But even during a heat, when your levels would typically spike…the odds of you getting pregnant are very low.” I can hear the regret in her voice, but it doesn’t soothe the way her words are slicing me open. Carving pieces from my heart.
“How low?” My voice cracks a little.
“It’s hard to say exact–”
“How. Low?” I growl this time. “Give me a number. Ballpark.”
She sighs again. “Maybe five percent.”
“Five…”Five percent.There is only a five percent chance I’ll ever have a family. Ever feel that joy again. “Thank you,” I say abruptly, and then hang up before she can get another word in.
The tears that had started to well at the beginning of the call are long gone. Instead, there’s a dull, lifeless feeling spreading through me. Everything feels numb.
