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I knew what to do. It felt perfectly right to care for her like that. I wanted it to mean something.
And the longer I sat in her suite, looking around at all the furnishings I chose ages ago, wondering how she would feel about them… I don’t know. Maybe I just wanted to believe in the best-case scenario. Or needed to.
Either way, I’m doomed to disappointment.
From the second she realized I was in the room, she’s been terrified. Filled with shame, regret, doubt, and anxiety.
The best thing I can do for her right now is leave. But I promised the guys I would have this conversation. Avery was right; we need to know what led her to the police station tonight.
Spencer also had a point—there are practical matters at play here. If she doesn’t choose to stay, I’ll begin a slow, painful unravel. If she does stay, then I’ll have to deal with those consequences too.
The press won’t like it. Neither will a lot of my constituents.
But, of all of us, Jonah made the best point of all.
We have to try.
Even if it means humbling myself to her every single day, I want to try.
Her sweet, sad face pinches as a wave of apprehension swamps us both. Thankfully, it doesn’t seem like she can feel my emotions anymore.
Figuring out how to stop assaulting her with my feelings took much more effort than I ever expected. Even now, it feels unnatural. Instead of a closed curtain, the way Dr. Monroe described, it’s more like a door I have to lean against at all times.
She isn’t blocking me, though.
Which means I feel everything she does.
It’s a one-way street, but at least it won’t cause her any distress. I almost told her about it a moment ago, but she’s already so overwhelmed. I don’t want to burden her with one more thing. Ever.
That’s what the noble part of me argues, at least. The less-gallant piece hisses that there’s a chance this omega will never let me get close to her any other way. Experiencing the frayed fragments of her feelings might be as close as I ever get to a real bond with her.
And I would deserve that rejection.
“W-what do you want to talk about?” she stammers.
Everything.
The word sticks in my throat. Pitifully, painfully true.
I want to know her, so badly it literally feels like it’s killing me. But why would she ever want to share anything with me? I’ve already proven, beyond a shadow of a doubt, that she can’t trust me.
It’s better if she doesn’t, anyway. I no longer trust myself. And her safety is now this household’s top priority.
“A variety of things, but we’ll stick with the essentials,” I hedge. “Obviously, you’ll need decent clothes, shoes, and other personal effects. I have an iPad here that I’ll give you to use until we’re able to source a proper phone—on it, you’ll find links to our pack’s personal shoppers. They upload options, and all you need to do is choose whatever you like. I’ll make sure it all gets here as quickly as possible.”
Serena blinks, her face carefully blank. Hiding the nausea shifting in her stomach. “What will I do? While I stay here?”
Of all the questions I expected—how could you do this? What the fuck is the matter with you? How far away from me can you move within the next twelve hours?—I never expected that one.
What will she do?
I look right into her eyes, flexing all the alpha power I possess. “Whatever you want.”
I’ve never meant anything quite so much. She can literally have anything she asks for. If she wants a private plane to Tahiti, I’ll book one. If she asks for a limitless credit card, I have four in my wallet. If she wants to work or study or book daily appointments at every spa from here to L.A., she can have it all.
Any of it.
But she just stares at me as her insides fill with dread.
