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Oh, terrific.
“Sawyer!” This time it’s Coco banging on the bathroom door, which I mercifully managed to close before worshiping the porcelain god. “Are you sick?”
“I’m fine!” I call out. “Be out in a sec.”
“Take your time. I’m just worried about you.”
“Don’t,” I mutter. “I’m okay, really. Must be something I ate this morning.”
“Did you?”
“What?”
“Eat something this morning?”
I sigh. Wash my face, gurgle some water, spit it out. “No, I didn’t.” I open the door and step outside, where Coco is waiting to give me a once-over.
“Oh, dear,” she tuts. “Is your heat coming on?”
“What? No. I don’t know.”
“It can make you dizzy and get your stomach upset. It’s different for every omega, of course.”
“How would you know that?” I ask and wince. Coco can’t stop hoping she’ll turn out to be an omega, but no signs of that so far.
“I’ve talked to omegas, read about it.” She shrugs. “It’s common knowledge. Point is, Sawyer, am I right?”
“I’m not going into heat,” I say quietly, “and I’m fine. Look, I have to work.”
“Clean the counter again? What’s up with that? It’s sparkling, you know. Not a speck of dust on it.”
I stare at her, willing my mouth to open, to say something witty and defuse the situation, answer the question without answering because… because I’m ashamed of my OCD. My disability. That’s what Eric calls it. As if I’m bound to a wheelchair or something.
But he’s right, to a point. My obsessive habits have prevented me from time to time—when they get worse—from doing my job, going out even to buy groceries, or paying my bills. It wrestles control away from me, and I hate it, and it’s all my fault for not being strong enough to fight it.
Nothing comes out, though, no funny repartee to get her off the track—and off my back, no matter how sweet a friend she is—so I open and close my mouth like a fish, anxiety swamping me once again.
But then I’m saved by Sophie and June getting up to press their noses to the café’s big front windows.
“Look!” June is saying. “Good Lord.”
“What is it?” I call out, heading toward them, leaving Coco to follow me, answers be damned. “Has there been an accident?”
We get a few. It’s a busy avenue.
“Come see.” Sophie points at something outside, on the street or the sidewalk. “Look!”
Coco overtakes me in her excitement and joins the other two girls. “Ooh, look at that hunk. Oh, there’s more. Three of them!”
“Three?” That number… not only magical but reminding me of…
“I could lick the dark, tall and brooding one like a lollipop,” Coco says. “And that beta is to die for.”
“I’ll take the blond alpha,” June squeals. “Oh my God, they’re heading here!”
“Shit…” I look out of the window and I see three familiar faces. “The McGraw Pack,” I whisper.
“Wait,” June says. “Isn’t that the pack you’re pining over?”
