Page 13 of Now Their Starlet

The few mouthfuls of rabbit food threaten to make their way back up my throat—like a fucking cow, throwing up its cud.

I guess that’s what I am now. I’m sure my mom will call me that too,eventually. Probably when we’re getting ready for whatever event she wants Ezra and I to appear at together.

I’m not a Lucky Duck anymore. Honestly, it feels like I have the worst luck in the world.

The anger that squeezes around my throat falls away, replaced quickly by a feeling of cold detachment. There’s no point in being angry because me being angry won’t change a thing.

Is it really that unexpected? This is what Gina threatened after all, if my fake-dating relationship with Beck didn’t work out. Obviously, she had to postpone this part of her plan because my fake-dating relationship with Beck was going swimmingly.

But her strange connection to Jonathan Fletcher and her obsession with seeing me with Ezra would never go away and I was stupid to think that it would.

“Great,” I say sarcastically, my shoulders slumping forward.

“Look, I won’t try anything. I know you have a pack now. But I can’t exactly say no to this kinda shit either.”

“Your dad is really on board with this thing then, huh?” I sigh in understanding.

“He is,” Ezra says, running a tired hand through his hair. His phone buzzes in his pocket and he winces down at it. “Speak of the devil. I’ve gotta go.”

I stand from the vanity, stepping aside to let him pick up the tray, still giving him a wide berth. He doesn’t comment, which I’m grateful for.

“I don’t know when they’re going to let me come see you again, but it’s probably going to be soon, based on their scheming,” he says, holding the tray one handed and reaching up to rub the back of his neck nervously. “See you soon, Andi.”

And with that parting comment, he leaves me alone, my only company, my racing thoughts.

CHAPTER 4

Beck

Going back to Edison Wade’s house feels wrong without Andi.

Well, everything feels wrong without her. Terribly, debilitatingly, suffocatingly wrong.

I don’t think I’ve managed to take a full breath since we heard the news.

I feel like I’m one light breeze away from falling apart again.

Wind blows in through the open windows, swirling around in the space of Edison’s living room.

Shit.

Don’t cry. Don’t cry. Don’t fucking cry again, you stupid, stupid fuck.

I grip the mug of tea Edison made for me, he’s still a good host, despite the shell-shocked expression on his face, present from the moment he opened the door.

Chamomille. Just like her.

I’m not even drinking it really. I’m pushing off the inevitable moment when I eventually get to the bottom of the mug and the last little remnant of her I can still hold in my hands will be gone. I know I can always get up and make myself another cup, but that’s not the point.

I’m positioned the furthest away from the open window, probably so my acrid perfume isn’t blowing around in everyone’s faces. Leo, being the angel he is, ran down to the pharmacy near our building and picked up a whole bunch of de-scenters for me. Eli would’ve done it, but he’s been glued to my side since we heard the news.

I lather myself in the lotion and drown myself in the spray, but the burnt, twisted sweetness of my scent still leaks out occasionally.

This entire situation has left me a fucking mess. Infinitely worse than when I first presented as a male omega.

Back then, I always struggled with feeling way too many emotions about the stupidest little shit. Now I’m dealing with all these very real, fucking overwhelming feelings for something that’s killing all of us.

It’s obvious in the rigid way Eli is holding himself at my side, like every single muscle in his body is coiled tight, like a spring ready to explode, except there’s nothing to explode at because we’re all helpless in this situation.