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I’ve felt like shit ever since that day on the field. After that little blow-up, it took days for me finally admit that I might really care about her; her safety, her feelings. I just don’t know how to care about anyone the way she needs me to.
And the whole thing fucking terrifies me.
She at least deserves an explanation. And since I can’t seem to talk to her like a normal person, I decided I’d talk to everyone here.
I know it isn’t logical. But, somehow, sharing what I went through as part of a speech to raise money for others is less personal than sitting Meg down and giving her my whole fucked up history one-on-one.
And if this is the only way I can give her the context she needs to understand that none of my bullshit is her fault? Fine. I’ll do it.
It’s called a grand gesture or some shit.
She didn’t seem to enjoy the first part of it, though, when I kissed her during our entrance. That move felt a lot cooler in my head. It wasn’t until she tensed up that I realized it was a mistake.
I wanted to claim her beyond a shadow of a doubt. Now, I wonder if maybe Meg isn’t the kind of person who needs big public displays. Maybe she would have preferred that I scent-mark her in private, where she would know I wasn’t doing it for any reason other than to make her feel wanted.
I would know all of this about her, if I wasn’t such a stubborn dick.
Now it’s too late. I already fucked up the kiss, and the speech written on the notecards in my pocket is the only one I have. So, I guess I’m going for it.
It’s time, right? I have to get better, somehow. Or I’ll lose them all. Or they’ll lose Meg. At this point, I can’t decide which would be worse.
Something painful pulls in my chest as I watch the way Meg dances with Arch. He spins her out and twirls her back. When he rubs his hand down her back, she visibly trembles from delight.
Jealousy joins the riot inside of me, along with a hefty dose of shame.
I haven’t really touched her yet and she’s literally fucking touch-starved. What the hell is wrong with me? I could have held her hand in the limo. Or sat next to her at dinner. Or just fucking asked how her day was. Am I seriously such an angry, obstinate asshole that I’m neglecting an innocent omega who’s literally ill?
I’m fucking this all up.
I’m fucking this all up.
Meg likely hates me. My team has barely hung in for our first three games. Now I’m standing here, going along with my own stupid plan instead of trying to figure out what our omega really needs from me.
Does it matter? that voice inside of me hisses. It’s not like you can actually give her anything worthwhile.
Because my heart is a shredded fucking mess, and Meg deserves better.
For a second, I consider running over to the dance floor and asking for her hand. Holding her close. Inhaling her hair and scent-marking her cheek and just… being hers. Trying to be hers.
But I still have to give this fucking speech.
The MC cuts the music and directs everyone back to their seats. Ronan appears just long enough to clap me on the shoulder. He strides up the steps and takes the stage to introduce me. In the process, he announces that we’ve raised fifteen million dollars for the charity of choice. Which is mine.
I’m about to take my cue and walk up to the podium. But a flash of tawny red catches my eye.
I turn just in time to catch sight of her, slinking around the edge of the room. She sets her empty wine glass on a bar and flashes me a look over her shoulder. Those light brown eyes send me hurtling into some of my worst memories. I watch as she very deliberately looks right at Meg.
And then flashes me a razor-sharp smile.
Oh fuck no.
Ronan is waiting on stage, watching me like I’ve lost my mind. But I don’t care. I won’t let her get to Meg. Not before I can.
chapter
forty-three
I’m having an out-of-body experience.
