35. Resa

Chapter 35

Resa

M y room faces the backyard, and there's an Olympic sized pool a few feet away beside a squat white building, otherwise there's not much to look at. Just landscaped gardens, grass and a tall hedge in the distance. Beyond that, the barest tip of a tree is visible.

I'm staring out into the distance, forehead on the cool glass, when Garrison, Vaughn, and Blaine wander out.

They walk down to the small white building. Blaine slides the glass door open and he and Vaughn enter as Garrison stands outside, hands on his hips.

"What are you doing?" I breathe.

Vaughn staggers out of the building, cradling an armload of towels he dumps on the ground before he goes back for more. I squint, briefly distracted from my heartbreak.

Seconds later, Blaine emerges with a stack of gray plastic storage containers. Then it's Garrison's turn to enter. He carries out a massive hot pink inflatable flamingo pool float that he throws into the pool.

"Seriously, what the hell are you doing?" I whisper.

Why have they decided now is the time to give the pool house a spring clean?

As if he feels the intensity of my stare, Garrison swivels his head my way. I back up, not sure I want him to know I was watching. He's far away. I'm up on the first floor with a window separating us, but if anyone's going to spot my red eyes, I have a feeling Garrison Brewster will.

The moment I abandon watching Lucas Security doing a strangely timed mid-afternoon cleaning session, my mind returns to Henry.

I think of the day he proposed, how happy I was, and how excited I was to be his wife. Now all I can think about is Emily's engagement ring and how they looked in that photograph. Where did he propose to her? When did he propose?

Did he look for me? Or did he assume I'd moved on and found someone else?

When my gaze settles on my cell phone, I order myself to think of something else. Calling him won't lead anywhere good.

What would have happened if I'd gone to his house? Would Emily have been the one to open the door to me?

I'm halfway to picking up the phone and calling him, wanting to demand answers when I force myself to stop. Where would that get me? Would it help to shout down the phone at Henry? Or to blame him for not trying to find me?

I pick up TV remote instead and curl up in bed. I'm in the mood for trashy TV. Instead, I come face to face with more news about the ongoing investigation into omegas being abused in the city. About a secret club of wealthy alphas who have been using free heat clinics to snatch up omegas mid-heat when they can't fight back.

Omegas like me.

I flick the TV off. As I sit there, my reflection staring back at me, I just want to go home, crawl into my childhood bed, and let someone else deal with this mess. I'm tired and heartsick. No. I'm just plain tired.

I want someone else to fix what's broken in the city, but I can't because no one else knows what I do. I know names and faces. So many alphas who have probably gotten away with it.

I can't let them get away with it. They'll just wait for the investigation to end, pick out a stupid new name for a club, and start it all up again months or years from now.

Nowhere in the news have there been police raids or arrests, and there should be.

There needs to be.

I brace myself and go looking for more news, more things I need to know, even if it's painful to know them.

"The city's prosecutor is seeking any witnesses, as alpha Sloane Eddiswood's trial is ongoing at the courthouse. He is currently facing years in jail for a laundry list of crimes, not the least of which is trafficking omegas," a female reporter speaks into a microphone.

I'm sitting cross-legged on the bed, watching, when a soft knock pulls my gaze from the TV. "Yeah?"

"It's me," Lex calls out. "I ordered Thai food."

My belly lets out a happy gurgle, and I nearly fall scrambling to my feet. "Be right there."

It's kind of disappointing not to open my door and come face to face with a beta juggling throwing stars. Lex is holding a large white bag that smells incredible, and a glass of the apple juice that I need someone to inject into my veins.

He nods at my bedside table. "Want me to put it down for you?"

I step aside. "Thanks."

No sooner has he set everything down than I'm diving for the glass. "I put a fork in there for you as well and some napkins."

"Hmmm." Lex is walking out as I drain my glass when I remember Garrison told me to ask him about my Dexter Pieter case. Right now, work offers the perfect distraction from my dumpster fire of a life.

I put my empty glass down and hurry after him. "Lex?"

"Yup?"

"I'm trying to find someone and I'm not getting anywhere."

He shoots me an uncomfortable look as he shifts from foot to foot. "Uh, I don't help with missing persons. Too deep and personal."

"Yeah, Garrison said that," I say quickly when he looks like he's getting ready to leave. "This someone doesn't want to be found. I get hung up on constantly and it's like they don't exist."

Interest replaces wariness. "Who?"

"Dexter Pieter."

"Oh." He nods. "Yeah, he definitely likes to stay off grid."

"Blaine said he has to have assistants. If I could find an assistant, then maybe I could get to him, but I can't because the assistant is a ghost too. That's if he even has one. Or two. Or… you get my point."

Lex is silent for a beat, his expression thoughtful. "Even if he wants to be completely off grid, he can't in a job like that. He launched an investigation the day after all the stuff about Asylum hit the news. So either he watches TV, or his assistant does."

I stare at him.

The TV.

That is how I get to Dexter Pieter. Not through his assistant, not by getting hung up on multiple times a day. Through TV. Yes, I am aware of how insane that sounds, but it makes perfect sense to me.

Lex must have gotten fed up with my unblinking stare, because when I blink, he's gone.

I rush into the hallway after him, another question bubbling up in my mind. "Lex?"

He stops at the top of the stairs. "Yeah?"

"Why does Garrison have to have a nickname?" It's a random question to throw at a person without warning or even context.

Lex takes it in his stride. "Don't you give nicknames to people you care about?"

When he puts it like that…

"Well, yeah. But he said you asked why he had to have a nickname and you refused to tell him." I hold my breath and hope he isn't as cagey about telling me everything the way Vaughn is.

He studies me for a beat. "I guess I do it because I appreciate everything he did for me, and for letting me work how I wanna work without breathing down my back or checking in every five minutes."

"He doesn't check even once?" My old boss needs to learn that important lesson. Namely, checking on someone every five minutes does not lead to greater efficiency. It leads to less.

Lex shakes his head. "A bunch of people applied to be his assistant. I bet every one of them had at least twice the experience I had and I had none. After I quit my job, most of the people in my life thought I was crazy for throwing away a dream job in Big Tech. Garrison asked why I did it and what I wanted to do, then after he listened to me waffle for thirty minutes, he gave me the job. He cared. He still does. Not just about what I can do for him. About me."

I frown. "So why didn't you tell him that?"

His cheeks flush. "Didn't want to make him feel awkward."

I know how the world works. The only good alpha is a dead alpha. But I keep hearing things that confuse me.

First Sadie and her talk of a private clinic that helps people who can't afford medical treatment. A place that only exists because of Garrison. Now this talk of hiring inexperienced assistants and giving them a purpose and a job it looks like they love.

I know how the world works. Yet I keep running up against things that make me wonder if maybe I don't.

"And Marie, did she get why you quit?" I ask, setting aside my unease for the moment.

"That was her dream, but she knew it wasn't mine. She gets it."

"You're lucky to have her."

His cheeks turn even more pink, and he ducks his head. "I know."

That's really sweet.

He nods and walks away.

"And Lex?" I call after him before he's taken more than a step down.

He twists to face me.

"Thanks."

"What for?" His brow wrinkles.

"For solving my case."

"I did?"

"You did."

"Cool." He walks down the stairs like he's in the habit of cracking cases every day. He probably is.

I stare after him. "A genius, and I bet he doesn't even know it."

Then I close the door and get busy stuffing my face with Thai food and figuring out what to say that will get Dexter Pieter to call me. I'm sick of chasing after him. He can come to me .

I must eat too much pad thai, chicken satay, and dim sum because I wake up surrounded by empty food containers in a dark room.

I think I rolled onto a container and that's what woke me.

It isn't.

I angle my head toward the window, stare at the midnight-blue sky outside, and then I hear it again.

Muffled music.

It's so bizarre that I get up and cross over to the window. The big pink flamingo is still hanging out in the pool, but there is no one outside. The lights are on in the pool house and someone is blasting music from inside.

"Did they decide to throw a party after cleaning it out?"

I stand there, chewing my lip as I figure out what to do. There's going to be no sleeping with someone playing music out there. And even if it was at a volume I could tolerate, I'm curious. Why of all days did Garrison, Blaine, and Vaughn decide to clean out the pool house and have a party?

To celebrate my fiancé deciding to marry someone else?

Isn't that a little cruel, especially right outside my window?

No one enters or leaves while I have my nose glued to the window. My forehead is getting cold, so I peel it off the glass and consider my options.

Ignore the music and hope it stops soon, or go down and shove whoever is playing the music so loudly into the pool.

The music transitions from pop to deep bassy drum and bass. And it's loud .

"Option two it is," I mutter.

Annoyed at the noise, I gather my takeout trash and take it with me.

The music and party has to be Vaughn. I can't see Blaine doing this. Or even Garrison… though he was the one who tossed the flamingo floaty in the pool so maybe they're all involved.

No one is in the kitchen when I toss the containers into the trash and place my fork in the dishwasher. It's hard to know if they aren't in some meeting since I can't hear myself think over that blasted music.

I stalk down the hallway, out through the back porch, skirt the pool and to the pool house.

The closer I approach, the more certain I am that they're doing it on purpose. They have to know my room looks out onto the backyard.

I'm yelling as I grip the sliding glass door and shove it open. "If you guys are having a party out here, can you…" My voice trails off before I can complete my request—okay, it was a demand—to shut the music off.

No one is having a party in the pool house.

No one is even in the room, though it's clear they have been here, and they have been busy.

After I perfumed, I told my mom that I didn't need a wealthy alpha to provide me with something I could get for myself. If I went to Haven Academy, it might mean I ended up with an alpha I didn't love or even want.

My nest was in my apartment. Just a quiet, out of the way corner I placed a beanbag and the fluffiest, softest blanket I could find. I stopped mourning that, and even my apartment, years ago.

It wasn't stuff I missed. It was the people I left behind. It was my parents and Henry. But I don't think I was honest with myself about what I needed.

My eyes fill with tears as I take in a pool house that Garrison, Vaughn, and Blaine transformed into a mint-green nest with bean bags, cushions, silk fabric, and fleecy throws everywhere. The restlessness that meant I could never truly relax in the room upstairs leaves my body in a rush.

On my left, near the glass sliding door, is a sleek, silver MP3 player attached to a set of compact white speakers, the source of the music. Someone has helpfully stuck a blue Post-it to the top.

Press stop to shut me up :)

So they did do it on purpose. Just not for the reason I thought.

Smiling, with tears in my eyes, I pick up the MP3 player and turn it off. Curling my toes in a dusky pink fur rug, I absorb a space filled with so much soft coziness, I never want to leave.

And when I look outside, that obnoxious hot pink flamingo is bobbing past.

I laugh and it turns into a sob. They didn't just build me a nest; they gave me a sanctuary when I was so heartsick I didn't think I would ever want to laugh again.

I pull the sliding door closed behind me, crawl into the pile of cushions, and I cry out all the pain in my heart in a place I never realized I needed until now.