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Sorry, I think you have the wrong number or an old number. I just got this line and I’m not Reggie.
A picture of a guy with a mullet comes through a moment later.
The phone slips from my hand and clatters to the floor. I slump back against the counter, eyes watering and heart shattering with every beat that slams against my rib cage. My breath rattles in my chest and darkness dots my vision.
He changed his number?
Even worse—he didn’t tell me.
All those unread texts. All those calls that went unanswered. And now this. Any love I had left for my real dads withers and breaks. Any hope I had left is gone. They don’t care. They never have. I was a nuisance to them, but now...now? I’m nothing.
My throat is thick and a tear splashes onto the tile floor. I take a breath, but it’s difficult and jagged. Angrily swiping at my cheeks, I glare at the phone and lift my wrist to my nose, inhaling. I breathe the petrichor in and in and in, but the perfume isn’t enough to chase away this pain, not enough, not enough, not enough. What’s the point of any of this?
The stupid vials can never replace the alpha.
“Quinn?”
My gaze flies to Austin’s. He’s standing in the doorway, face scrunched as he takes in the phone on the ground, my watery eyes, my nose at my wrist. I drop the offending hand and tuck it behind my back, hoping he won’t ask questions, and use the other to dry my cheeks.
“Hey.” I manage a smile but it wavers.
Somehow, just by him being here, my chest feels a little lighter. Like the pain might be easier to endure if I have my alpha near. That’s not right, though. He’s one of my scent matches, true, but he can’t be mine. Just like with my real dads, I can never get what I want from Austin or Dylan or Brady. They can never give me the love I need. Never give the touches I crave so desperately that my entire body trembles. A sob lodges in my throat. I clamp my mouth shut to stifle the pitiful sound. A soft whine still cuts through the air.
Austin places his keys on the island and slowly walks toward me. I swallow but can’t look away from those sky-blue irises. I blink back tears and sniff. My stomach swims and my throat constricts.
“I’m fine.”
His eyes narrow. “Don’t lie to me.” And then he’s there, tugging me against his chest and wrapping his arms around me. The shirt he’s wearing is so soft, but his hold is strong. He cradles my head. “What’s wrong, pretty girl?”
My chest aches. It’s been years since I’ve heard him call me that, but instead of comforting me, it almost makes the pain worse. I press my lips together to muffle a pained sound, but he hears it.
“I’m here.”
Those words. He has no idea what they mean to me. I grasp at the material of his shirt and bury my head against him, unableto hold back the tears when he touches me so tenderly. Fresh rain, stronger and more right than what I can ever hope to make, curls around me, and I breathe him in until the ache in my throat subsides and the tears fade. I breathe him in until it’s almost indecent. I can’t stop. Can’t control myself from greedily hoarding all of his perfect scent for myself.
He smooths my hair and pulls back. “Who made you cry?” Hard lines are etched across his forehead. I hate that I put those there.
Now that the worst of the emotions are gone, a flush settles in my cheeks.Way to be wholly pathetic, Quinn.I extract myself from his hold and take a step away, wrapping my arms around my middle. My heart screams in protest, but I force myself to stay put. “I tried to text Reggie.”
Austin scowls at the phone. “And what did Dear Old Dad say?” There’s a quiet sort of violence to the question, traces of protectiveness.
I shiver. My inner omega loves that, but I bring the bitch to heel and ignore the urge to grab his shirt and reel him in until his body is against mine once more. Right where it belongs.
“What did he say?” This question is growled, Austin mistaking my silence for the worst.
“Nothing,” I whisper with a shrug. “He changed his number and didn’t tell me.”
My eyes rove over his face, taking in every microexpression. The slight tightening of the skin around his mouth. The deepening of his frown. The violence swirling in the otherwise bright eyes.
“They don’t deserve you, Quinn.”
But you do. You and your brothers deserve me. I’m yours, I’m yours,I’m yours.
Stop. I can’t think about those things. I can’t be weak. Stepsisters and stepbrothers can’t date. They can’t be mates. It’snot right. I pinch my eyes shut to keep from falling apart. “You don’t have to say that to be nice.”
“I’m not being nice. I’m being honest. Those assholes lost the right to hurt you the moment they left you and your mom.”
I laugh and dry my cheeks again, side-eyeing Austin. “Well, they didn’t get the memo.”
