56. Resa

Chapter 56

Resa

I dreamed of this.

Clean floral sheets that smell like home. My mom's cinnamon buns drifting up the stairs. The way the shadows would always dance across the ceiling. Dad hammering in the garage.

All good things. Cherished things.

It's been four days since Mom and Dad brought me home, but things don't feel the same. I'm not sure if it's because I've been gone so long or if things truly are different.

I have a shower, brush my teeth, pulling on a pair of jeans and a T-shirt before I go downstairs for breakfast. It's what I've done every day since cops escorted us home from court. I haven't heard or seen Garrison, Vaughn, or Blaine since. I'm not sure what to think—or feel—about their absence when they seemed so determined to convince me to stay.

They sent me my prenatal vitamins, irons, and the replacement cell phone Garrison got for me after I chucked the last one out of the window. I've spoken with Isaura, who went over the last set of blood and urine results with me, confirming everything was okay after my drug induced heat.

That's it. No calls or texts from Garrison, Vaughn, or Blaine.

Every morning, Mom greets me with a smile and a cup of tea. I take it gratefully and drift over to the window to study the cop car parked outside.

After we cried and laughed, and cried some more, cops told me that I had sent so many shockwaves rippling through the city that they're protecting me until the furor dies down.

Sloane Eddiswood is in jail. Other alphas are staring down the same fate. The evidence that an investigative reporter splashed across the city weeks before is being used to connect those people to specific places and specific dates.

Connect names to faces and faces to places, and slipping and sliding your way out of a crime becomes very difficult. Especially when the city is turning against you.

Cops arrested Nathaniel Lang while I was speaking in court. If anyone truly deserves to spend the rest of their life rotting in a cell, it's him.

And the social media post that went viral? I stopped checking it when it hit over ten million views.

On every channel, reporters won't stop talking about investigations into heat clinics. Better than that, people are furious at the alphas who did it, furious at the Omega Institute for pandering to them, and at Dexter Pieter for not doing enough to stop it.

As cops search the city and re-open missing person cases, I can't stop smiling because things are changing.

Things are actually changing.

I leave Mom in the kitchen while I head out to the garage and help sort through the boxes they filled with stuff from my old apartment.

We've been slowly moving it into the house, though I'm not sure what I want to do with it all. There's too much stuff to fit into my room, and my parents' house isn't big. Just your standard three-bedroom home in the suburbs.

Years ago, we moved into the house a short walk to a small park with a pond so Mom would have somewhere green and peaceful to take me. Dad made the smallest bedroom into his study, and he's suggested turning it into a nursery for my baby. I can't seem to make up my mind about anything I want.

I'm unpacking a box of kitchen stuff when a car pulls up outside. Cops are watching the house, so I'm not worried trouble has found me.

I peer over my shoulder at the crunch of footsteps and forget about figuring out what to do with my cooking utensils.

Henry is at the garage entrance, hands stuffed in the front of his blue jeans, short dark blond hair brushed back, as handsome as always. "Hi, Resa."

My first reaction at coming face to face with my ex-fiancé isn't to punch him or even cry. It's disappointment that it's him standing there and not a member of Pack Lucas.

"Hi, Henry."

He looks a little surprised at my calm response.

"You thought I would kick you like the photocopier, didn't you?" I put the tongs back in the box and turn fully to face him as Dad hovers.

A smile briefly flickers across his dark brown gaze. "I guess I kind of did."

Dad clears his throat. "Well, I'll leave you kids to talk. I'll be in the house if you need me, Theresa."

I might not want to kick Henry, but from the growl in Dad's voice, it sounds like he wants to kick Henry for the both of us. Mom told me that Henry had moved on. I told her I knew, that it was okay, but I'd rather not talk about how much it had hurt when I found out.

I wait until Dad disappears through the back door into the house before I join Henry at the open garage front entrance.

"Is this all your stuff from your apartment?" He nods at the boxes lined up in one half of the garage. The other side is all of Dad's tools and his workbench.

"Yeah. My landlord still wanted rent, and I wasn't around to pay it, so my parents packed everything up and brought it here." Never knowing if I would come home.

He's still looking at my boxes when he says, "It was you, wasn't it?"

I blink at him, confused. "What was me?"

In the distance, a lawn mower or leaf blower starts up.

He turns to stare across the road at the house opposite. "Someone called my phone. I answered, but they never said a word. After that stuff blew up on the news, I wondered if it was you."

I'm tempted to lie. "It was."

He stuffs his hands even deeper into his pockets. "You know about Emily. Don't you?"

"I do."

"And you don't want to kick me?"

"You're not a malfunctioning piece of equipment, Henry." I sigh. "But I won't lie. If you'd been around when I found out, I think I would have kicked you."

We study each other for a couple of seconds and he looks away, guilt stamped all over his face. "I'm sorry, Resa."

Henry hurt me, but he's not a bad person. He just moved on with his life when he thought I wasn't coming back.

"When did it happen?" I wrap my arms around myself as I brace for his answer.

"A year ago. We…" He pauses.

I briefly squeeze my eyes shut as I ask myself why I'm putting myself through the equivalent of a gut punch. But I need to know. For peace, clarity, and closure, I need to know.

"You what?" I prompt.

"At work, we had a coffee morning with cakes and stuff. I guess it was like a wake. We had one before, when you first went missing."

"You really thought I was dead, huh?" I ask.

How weird is this conversation?

"The cops thought you were having an affair."

I jerk my head to face him. " What !"

"They found your engagement ring in your car. Because you'd parked near a bar, they thought you must have?—"

"Been meeting a guy for sex?" I bite out. "And that I just decided to run out on everyone I loved without a single goodbye?"

Did the cops even try to look for me at all, or did they jump to their own conclusion and do the bare minimum when my parents reported me missing?

Henry sighs. "None of us believed them. At least, not at first. But when there were no sightings of you, I thought you were dead. We all did. Except your parents. They kept putting up posters and doing their own searches, but that never led anywhere. Eventually, the cops started saying you were probably dead."

"And you and Emily got together at this coffee morning?" I refuse to call it my wake. It feels too weird.

He nods. "She was comforting me and well…"

"One thing led to another?"

"Then all this stuff was coming out about alphas abducting omegas from free heat clinics and I started to wonder." He stops talking, and his chest rises as he takes in a big breath and releases it. "I saw that video of you in the trial. You'd been going through that for two years and I didn't try to find you. I just moved on."

And that is why he doesn't deserve to be kicked in the shin.

"There was nothing you could have done, Henry."

He looks at me. "You went to a different heat clinic than normal?"

"Yeah." He'd been away on a work trip at the time. How different would things have been if he'd been there to drive me to a clinic instead?

His gaze dips to my belly. I'm in a baggy T-shirt and sweats, so he won't see any hint of my belly, but I rest my hand over my bump, anyway.

"I heard you were pregnant."

"I am."

"And you're going to keep it?"

And that is why, even if Henry hadn't moved on with Emily, I don't have a future with him. "This baby is mine."

"Right." He nods, but he's looking at me like he can't understand why I would.

To him, this baby is a sign of something bad. Of hurt, of pain and rape. In a way, he's right. I have memories that will stay with me forever, but my baby is so much more than something bad. He or she is a part of me. And they are their own person, or they soon will be. I can't wait to meet them.

"When are you and Emily getting married?" I ask, distracting myself from thoughts of how Garrison, Vaughn, and Blaine prioritized looking after me and my baby. Playing the comparison game never leads to anything good.

"We fly out to Mexico next week."

I smile at him as I take a step away. "Well, good luck with everything. I'm sure you'll both be happy together."

"I'll see you around, okay?"

I nod.

But I won't.

He'll have his new married life with Emily. I'll have my life, and we'll never see each other again. Unless our paths cross accidentally in the grocery store or the post office.

As he turns to leave, I remember something else I found that I no longer need or want.

"Give me a second." I walk over to a box near Dad's tool bench and dig out the envelope of stuff that must have come from the cops. I hand back my engagement ring. "Here. You gave it to me. It doesn't belong to me anymore."

His brow furrows, but he makes no move to take the emerald ring with the platinum band I offer him. "Are you sure you don't want to…"

"No," I gently interrupt. "I don't. That was a long time ago, and I think we've both moved on now. Pawn it if you want and get something nice for Emily."

He takes it, and our hands brush. I don't have the same tingle I would always have whenever he touched me, because whatever we had is gone now. It went away a long time ago. He tucks the ring into his back pocket. "Thanks."

I watch him drive past the cop car until I can't see him anymore.

Dad wraps his arm around me and kisses the top of my head. "You okay, sweetheart?"

I rest my head on his shoulder and inhale his scent. Sweet orange and soothing mint. The scents of my childhood. Of safety. Of home. "Yeah. I'm okay."

He squeezes my shoulders. "You sure you don't want me to take my baseball bat to his backside? If I can remember where I left it, I'll teach him a lesson about hurting my daughter."

I smile. "I'm sure, Dad. And Mom made you sell it at the garage sale years ago. She said you never used it for anything but threatening my boyfriends."

"Oh. Well, now I know for later." He pats my arm. "Let's go inside so I can tell your mom that I was right. I would need it one day."

One day melds into two.

Then three.

Eventually, the cops knock on the front door and tell us they don't have the manpower to keep watching over me anymore.

The cop car has just pulled away and Mom is in the kitchen making lunch when I spot a dark gray Audi park outside.

"I'll be right back, Mom!" I yell as I run out of the house without stopping to put on my shoes.

"Where are you going?" She pops her head out of the kitchen, eyes wary.

"Just outside. I'll be right back."

I've settled on it being Garrison when I yank the passenger door open. "Oh, it's you."

Is it awful that I'm this disappointed?

"What a welcome. Nice to see you too," Frost says dryly.

Smiling apologetically, I climb into the passenger seat and slam my door shut. "Sorry. I just saw the car, and I thought?—"

"I was the big guy in charge?"

"Yeah, actually." My parents live deep in suburbia and I couldn't imagine Blaine driving out this way. Vaughn, I can see him driving this way, but not to sit outside my house. He'd walk right in, juggling those stars I kept thinking would kill him.

"I'm just here on an errand." He reaches behind my seat and pulls out a thick padded white envelope he thrusts my way. "Here."

"What is it?"

"A bill."

"A bill ?" I eye it curiously. It has my name on the front and nothing else.

"Yep. You remember how you trailed bloody footprints all over expensive carpet? Well, Vaughn said it's for a deep cleaning. You wouldn't believe how hard it is to get blood out of wool."

I struggle to believe he came all this way to bring me a cleaning bill. I know I said I would pay for it, but I never saw any blood on the carpet.

"You're lying." I hope.

He pushes the envelope into my hand, forcing me to take it or drop it. "There. My job is complete. Out you get."

"But I?—"

"Out, out, out." He shoos me away. "I have someplace I need to be."

I get out of the car, grumbling as I slam the door shut.

He tears away in a squeal of rubber, and I back up before he runs over my bare feet. I glare after him until his car disappears at the end of the road, then I look at the envelope.

"Resa? What is it?" Mom calls from the house.

I tear into the envelope as I walk toward her. "A cleaning bill."

Her brow furrows. "How big of a bill is it? That looks thick. Are they threatening to sue you?"

My steps slow. She's right. It does look too thick. Scarily thick.

Bracing myself for the worst, I tip the envelope upside down, the contents spilling into my hand. I catch the papers but miss the key that hits the front lawn.

I ignore the key. I'm struggling to believe what I'm seeing.

"Theresa? What is it? You're white as a ghost. Was it a lot of carpet? Will we have to re-mortgage?"

My laugh is shaky, and I suddenly need to sit down before I fall. "No, Mom. Just… This doesn't make sense."

"And the key?" She bends to pick it up and throws her arm around my shoulder, guiding me into the house.

"I'll explain inside."

Behind me, a car beeps its horn.

It's the gray Audi parked in the same spot.

"He must have driven around the block and come straight back," I mutter.

Frost lifts his hand in a cheery wave.

I give him the middle finger.

" Theresa !" Mom hisses.

I yank my hand down. "He deserved it, Mom," I complain. "And he nearly ran over my foot."

I knew he was lying.

At the dining table, we gather around the contents of the envelope.

"I'm not sure I understand what this is, exactly." Dad frowns at the papers. "I've heard about Ever Safe, but why is someone giving you this?"

I know exactly why someone—or, more specifically, why Pack Lucas would.

I'm not ready to share the details of my drug induced heat with my parents when they're still dealing with everything they learned from the trial, so I give them a condensed, trauma-lite version of the truth.

"It's my own suite." I skim read Garrison's letter, countersigned by Rune Fontenot. It explains that when the new Ever Safe clinic opens east of the city, one room has my name on it. No matter what, that room will only ever be mine.

And I have the only key for it. "Lucas Security knows I don't trust heat clinics anymore after what happened."

My parents are silent for a beat. They know what happened to me, know I'm pregnant because of those things, and have been gently nudging me toward speaking with a therapist. And I will.

"But you trust this one?" Dad asks.

"I do." I've seen how much Pack Ashe care about Everleigh, and this heat suite comes with three men who are ready and willing to take me to it whenever I need it. Night or day. One year from now. Or ten.

I will never have another desperate, panicked search for a free heat clinic like before. I will always have one waiting for me. And I will always have Lucas Security to ensure nothing can or will happen to me in it.

I won't need it yet. After I've had my baby, and my heat comes again, I have a room waiting for me.

"You have three men under this roof who will wait forever for you, Resa," Vaughn told me when I was grieving the loss of my future with Henry.

I am looking at tangible proof they mean it.