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"Is that why you came to work at Queenie's?" Iggy asks. His long arms are no longer draped carelessly behind him. He's now leaning forward, fists tightly bound, clasped between his knees.
"Initially, yes. It wasn't about the money, not really. I don't know. I suppose I didn't really have time to process being financially destitute because, truthfully, I've always wanted to get married and have a family, and my mother knows that. I've been picky over the years. I've never wanted to settle for someone who wasn't…" I look around at these scrappy men. Iggy and his tattoos, his jaw clicking fiercely the more I speak. Cass giving me an encouraging smile, Red patiently waiting, not overreacting, sitting in tense silence beside me. The three of them are so different from the Stevens Pack.
I continue, "I've never wanted to settle for less than a love match. And Stevens Pack was no different from any others I'd met. But I started thinking that maybe my mother was right. Maybe I was being too picky. And I didn't want to end up alone. So I accepted their proposal."
I can see the questions on their faces, a reiteration of Ophelia's reaction when I said the same thing to her, that I'm too young to worry about being alone. I can't explain it, this desire—no, it's more than that, it's a need, like an emptiness inside of me, searching for a family, a pack, to call my own. One who will love me unconditionally, who won't care that I'm not perfect, even when I try to be.
Stevens never would have accepted less than perfect. If only my mother hadn't forced my hand.
"Anyway, I did, reluctantly, agree. But then, one day at work, I walked into the office to find Roxy, and there you were, Cass." His lips tug into a half grin at the memory, but his brow furrows, likely remembering what followed. "You took me by surprise. The one thing I've always wanted, and there you were. But I overheard what you said to her, then Roxy warned me off you, all of you, because of what happened with that one omega, Emily."
"She wasn't—" "We weren't—" Cass and Red try to explain, but I wave them off. "It's okay, you don't need to explain. I understand what happened, and I see our situation is different. But at the time, I was worried you'd reject me. I was on scent-blockers for the club. I didn't think you'd believe me about the match. Anyway, I knew right then I couldn't accept Stevens Pack, regardless of how I felt. I couldn't imagine being with anyone but you three, especially during a heat—"
Three alpha growls reverberate so intensely, ricocheting between us in this small living space, I waver in my seat, the energy knocking me back. They regain control, but I wait before continuing, giving each a pointed look. Only Iggy looks apologetic, but I shake my head in amusement. "So, I intended to break it off. I wasn't ready to tell you the truth, but I also couldn't stay with Stevens. But when I got home to talk to my mother…
"It's a long, complicated story that involves my parents and their bad choices, some of which led us here to Arrow Cove. All I can tell you is that until I resolve some issues with my family, I cannot cancel the engagement." I look at each one of them, imploring them to understand. "I'll never marry them. I'm not even with them. It's just a verbal agreement between the pack and my parents, which I will put an end to soon. It's temporary. I know it doesn't make much sense, but I need you to trust me. Please."
The guys are quiet for a minute, absorbing everything.
Red takes a deep breath, then says, "I want you to break off your engagement. I don't think that's an unreasonable request."
I smile up at him, but it's not a real smile because there's nothing joyous about what I'm about to say. It's my practiced smile, one of calm omega energy. He's right, and I love that he wants me and doesn't want to hide it. But he's not trusting me. He's not understanding. "Forgive me, but I cannot. It's only for a few more weeks. I'll either have found a solution to the problem or not, but the outcome, for me, is the same. I’m not marrying them."
"So what are you saying, Imogen? You know we're your scent-match. You're staying engaged, for however long, to someone else. And we're supposed to what? Just kick back and pretend we aren't destined to be together? I can't fucking breathe at the thought of you being with someone else—"
"I won't be with them," I quickly remind Cass, but he's too hurt to hear me.
"You won't be with us either. That's what you're saying."
His words settle like the aftermath of a bomb. Sadness weighs on the four of us, and their scents whirl through different emotions when I don't correct Cass. I want to be with them, but I can't. Not yet.
Jeffrey’s wrist, and whatever happened to Bowen’s leg… If I give in and just cancel the wedding now, my mother will disown me. I’m prepared for that. I suspect when she finds out I’ve scent-matched to a pack in South Loop, she’ll surely suffer apoplexy and disown me right away.
Regardless of our relationship, I’m not prepared to disown her until we've handled the solution of her debt. First, my two dads are injured—what's next? My other fathers are still away on business. Will she be next? Me?
I just need more time where she thinks I’m getting married, for me to find out what she owes and to who, and once I have some idea of what I’m working with to help dig them out of this—even if she disowns me, at least she’ll be safe, my fathers uninjured. Alive.
Then we can part ways. What a mess.
I look at Red and Iggy, then Cass. All in varying stages of distress because they can likely sense I’m not budging. Well, I'm not happy about it either. There's more to talk about. Where we go from here. What happens next. What they're doing with that ridiculous excuse for a nest upstairs which, despite its smell and lack of, well, everything, it's the best thing I've ever seen.
They said they're building it for me, and that was even before they found out I was their mate. And after they found out I was engaged.
It gives me hope. But it's arrested because we can't give into this thing brewing between us, not yet.
At an impasse, and because I've slipped my OFA cloak back on, spine straight, afraid that if I give an inch, I'll give everything, I leave no more room for discussion on the subject, so we say goodnight.
Red walks me to my car, and my heart pulses uncomfortably beneath my breastbone the entire drive home. The further from South Loop I drive, the sadder I feel.
Maybe I should move back to C-Block for now because the anxiety feels near crippling, churning in my gut as I type in the gate code and drive up my parent's long driveway.
Turning toward the back, I park in the garage, then enter the house, keeping quiet but not sneaking in. I'm so tired, my entire day a whirlwind of emotions. A sound from the sitting room has me pausing on the way up to my room. Another growl of frustration and curiosity getting the better of me, I tiptoe back downstairs, through the grand dining room, to my father's sitting room off their office.
A dim light casts the room in a warm glow, and I find my father, Bowen, propped uncomfortably on the couch, his left knee in a cast, elevated by a series of pillows. He looks miserable.
"Immy? Is that you, sweetheart?"
"I'm sorry, Dad. I didn't mean to wake you."
