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“Barren Knight.” The woman blushes.
I’m frozen, just hearing his name. My heart beats hard in my chest. Barren…where are you?
“I wanted to see if you’d like to go to the cafe down the street for coffee.”
I let out a sigh. “Barren sent you?” I clarify.
“Hey, hey, don’t cry. I’m sorry. Yes, he did. Do you want me to go?”
“Uh, no. Let’s get coffee.” I say quickly and wipe my face. “It's been one of those days.”
She walks beside me, deliberately not getting into my space and leaving me to my silence. When we sit down, she orders the most disgustingly sweet drink on the menu and practically purrs when she tastes it. I eye the whipped cream and chocolate and feel my stomach jump in warning.
“You don’t have a pack?” I ask, wincing. That was so rude. The cafe is a cute, intimate affair with a dark bronze aesthetic. There are weird pictures of forests on the walls. But no one else is sitting close enough to overhear.
“Uh, no. I…not yet.” She blushes fiercely.
“You found them, but they are being idiots?” I surmise.
Hazel winces and puts her face in her hands. “Something like that.”
“So, you know Barren?”
“Oh, I know the whole pack. We’ve been friends for a while. Well, actually they are friends of my brother. Barren and I got bored a lot listening to business and used to go on adventures to see who we could get to explode first.”
I chuckle. “My moneys on Gold.”
Hazel smirks. “You’d be wrong. No one explodes better than my brother Grayson.”
We sit at the cafe for two hours, chatting like old friends, and by the end, I’m comfortable with the young omega. It feels like we’re already friends.
“I’ll call you tomorrow.” Hazel says when a limo appears. She slides into the back of it and waves.
I shake my head and wander back to the rental. This time, when I smell the oranges, I don’t try to find him, I just close my eyes.
“I miss you guys.”
I open my eyes and find a note pinned to the door.
We miss you. Xxx.
No flowers come the next morning.
Or the day after.
I try to find solace in the new life I’m growing and my growing friendship with Hazel, but I wake at night crying, searching for the ones who aren’t there.
And still, there are no flowers.
thirty-seven
Gold
Taylor’s leaning over that damn map again. I don’t know when he slept last, but I know it’s been a while. He looks awful. He's getting gaunt, with stubble on his cheekbones. His clothes are ripped and torn from slogging it through the bush.
He’s falling apart. And the time has come for me to make the call I’ve been putting off.
I pick up my phone and leave the room.
