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“It wasn’t healthy. None of that bullshit over that year was healthy.”
The long spiraling phone calls, the text-tag that we constantly played, the surface level conversations where she would hint that something was going on but would also refuse to talk about it.
Or the fact that I was head over heels in love with her and she wouldn’t—or couldn’t—admit to the same.
Ciara’s eyes sparkled with angry tears that she quickly blinked away, never one to show weakness. “Then it sounds like you got all of the closure you need. I hope you’re healthy now.”
She whirled around and started to walk away.
Reaching for her, I snagged her wrist and pulled her around as gently as I could manage but she still growled at me and began to slap at my chest.
“Ciara—” I began, but stopped when she shook her head roughly.
“No. I’m not doing this with you,” Ciara snapped, finally managing to wrench her wrist away. “I broke my rules for you, Leith. All of them.”
Despite it being early in the morning, there were already several people already in the lobby and I could feel their eyes on us as Ciara’s voice echoed off of the glass walls.
Ciara glanced over at them before sucking in a deep breath and squaring her shoulders.
“I hope you are happy with your pack, they seem lovely, but I don’t want to see you again. Ever.”
With that she whirled on her heel and hurried away from me.
Scrubbing a tired hand over my face I watched as she ducked through the doors and disappeared. It was all so fucking stupid. When was I ever going to learn that every interaction I had with Ciara Callaghan would inevitably end this way?
Our flat was quiet when I stepped inside, my duffel bag in one hand and a bag of breakfast in the other.
My insides were still smarting from the interaction I’d just had with Ciara and I was doing my best to insulate my end of the bond so as not to alert my packmates to my misery.
I shouldn’t have felt as awful as I did. We hadn’t ever even properly dated and she’d completely burned me four years ago. And yet it felt like she’d stomped all over my heart once again.
Dropping my duffel, I set the bag of food on the counter and put my face in my hands, trying to gather myself.
“You just need a cuddle with Artie,” I told myself as I unpacked the food. “A cuddle with Artie always makes everything better.”
Artie had been the balm that soothed all of my cracks three years ago and he was always willing to soothe one of his wayward alphas if we ever needed it.
Enzo usually refused, claiming that alphas were the ones who were supposed to take care of their omegas—an outdated viewpoint he’d inherited from his very traditional grandmother.
But I was always raised with a more modern standpoint, thanks to seeing it with my omega mum and alpha dads.
It was supposed to be a give and take, like a bunch of well-oiled cogs all working together.
Enzo was stubborn though and it usually ended up with him burning the candle at both ends until he crumbled and Artie and I worked to pick up his pieces.
Even now I could hear the rumble of his voice in the office as he spoke on the phone.
A wet nose pushed into my palm and I glanced down to find Lucky looking up at me with plaintive brown eyes.
“Oh no you don’t,” I scolded him softly. “This food isn’t for you.”
The golden retriever let out a whine before giving up and returning to the living room where Charm was still asleep.
Not trusting that Lucky wouldn’t come back and try to sneak some food once I turned my back, I put all of it into the microwave and even then I wasn’t sure it would work.
Lucky could open doors thanks to his brief stint in guide dog training school of which he’d failed out of stupendously. He was incredibly intelligent—far too intelligent for his own good. He could open doors, find objects, and more and all of the skills he’d learned, he put to use driving us all mad every day.
“Don’t touch,” I commanded, pointing two fingers at my eyes and back to him in an ‘I’m watching you,’ gesture.
