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“Why?”
“Because everything is my fault. That you were targeted. That you were hurt. That you couldn’t bond with your rightful pack.” Jett’s scent is as faint as his voice, but even that tiny whiff of cedar proves he’s mine to claim.
But Jett always wants to walk away.
Rejecting me again and again and again.
Rejecting himself. “You’re part of my rightful pack.”
“I could never be your alpha.” His soft resignation hits me dead in the spleen, another oof I didn’t see coming.
Suddenly, all my sympathy, all the sick sorrow over what he’s been through pivots on a fucking dime and that quavering rejection boils into rage.
“Jett,” I drag out his name like silk. “Fuck. You.”
His head snaps, and a hint of fire kindles in the dark pits of his eyes.
Maybe he’s finally waking up.
“You want to disappear. Again.”
“Because I don’t deserve—”
“Stop. All I ever needed was your friendship. I just needed one person willing to be at my side. You were my person until you disappeared. And I get it. You were going through hell. But then I got dropped into your pack and you pretended not to know. Now you ‘owe me more than an apology?’ There was no apology, and you think disappearing is the fix? No. You don’t get to check out. You have to stay and fucking work for it.”
I pant, surprised at all the words that just poured out like poison.
I’m sweating.
Feels good to let out so much that I’ve been holding back so long.
“I’m broken,” he whispers.
“Have you met me?” Like I’m the poster child for healthy, normal omega-dom? I could teach a class on self-destruction. “Have you even met your pack brothers? What standard are you after?”
“Perfection. You deserve the perfect alpha.”
My head hurts.
I think my logic center is finally fried. “You realize what packs are after me? My main criteria is no kidnapping.”
“You deserve so much better.”
“We all deserve better. So where’s my apology?”
“Lilah.” He closes his eyes.
I brace for more bullshit, although I have to admit, I’d rather yell at Jett forever than watch him slowly disappear.
He takes a deep breath.
When his eyes pop open, I reel.
He doesn’t just drop to his knees.
He drops to his elbows and puts his forehead on the ground. “I’m sorry.”
I hesitate, not sure what to do with this fragile, crazy boy who I’ve loved and I’ve hated and I don’t forgive. But I also don’t want to watch him die or sacrifice himself or whatever the fuck he’s planning when he’s crying out so desperately.
