11. Mylo

CHAPTER ELEVEN

MYLO

I woke up with the kind of headache that felt like a jackhammer was trying to break free from my skull... or was it break my skull? My mouth felt like I'd been walking through the damn Sahara with no water in sight, and I was five seconds from puking my guts up like my life depended on it. I groaned, squeezing my eyes shut tighter, trying to will the headache away—like that would work.

Right. Bourbon tasting. Or, more accurately, bourbon drinking. I didn't even want to think about how much I'd had to drink last night. No wonder my brain felt like some cartoon mouse was trying to split it in half with an axe... or was it a cartoon cat?

Like it mattered. I tried to move but decided to just curl up and die where I was.

So this was a hangover. Never. Ever. Again.

A soft knock interrupted my self-pity party, followed by the creak of the door opening. I barely managed to crack one eye open, and Noah's face came into view, his expression a mix of amusement and sympathy.

"Rise and shine, lightweight," he said, his voice way too cheerful for my current state. And way too loud. Did he have to shout ? For fuck's sake.

He held out a glass of orange juice and two pills, which I prayed to all that was holy were some kind of painkillers, a small smirk tugging at his lips.

"Why are you so happy?" I grumbled, forcing myself to sit up. The room spun, and I grabbed my head with both hands like that might somehow steady it. "Ugh, kill me now."

Noah chuckled, sitting down on the edge of the bed. "Sorry, kid. Welcome to Hangover 101. Lucky for you, I've been sent by—" he smirked "—Holden, to make sure you're okay. He told me you got pretty smashed last night and to look after you. Also, you have the day off work, courtesy of said alpha."

The mention of Holden's name made me freeze, and my stomach did this awful twisty thing that had nothing to do with the hangover. I felt the color drain from my face as I dropped back against the pillows, covering my eyes with my hand.

"Oh, God. Holden. Kill me now. Please, just kill me now."

"Care to share with the class?"

All I could do was groan.

Noah snorted, and I lifted my arm just enough to peek at him. His brow was raised in question, and I could tell he was thoroughly entertained by my misery.

"Whatever happened, it cannot be that bad."

I threw my arm back over my face, wishing I could disappear. "Noah, I messed up. Shit, I messed up so badly. "

"What did you do?" he asked, though by the amusement in his voice, I'd bet he already knew.

"I said things," I mumbled from beneath my arm. "Bad, kill-me-now, horrible things."

"You're going to have to be more specific." Noah nudged me with his elbow, and I peeked out from beneath my arm, only to find him grinning at me.

"I told him that if he didn't want to mate me, he could—" I took a deep breath, the humiliation making me want to puke more than any hangover ever could, "—he could at least help me through my next heat."

Noah blinked, his eyes widening slightly. His lips twitched at first, and then he clearly couldn't hold it in because he burst into laughter—full-on, head-thrown-back laughter that echoed through the room.

"It's not funny!" I protested, my cheeks burning. "I practically begged him, Noah. Begged him to..." I trailed off. Yeah, those words were not coming out of my mouth again.

"You have to admit," Noah said between laughs, wiping at his eyes, "it's kind of funny. And hey, maybe he was flattered. I mean, who wouldn't be?"

"Yeah, sure. Flattered. Or horrified," I muttered, downing the aspirin with a sip of orange juice. "How am I ever supposed to look him in the eye again? He's going to think I'm a desperate slut or something equally as bad."

Noah raised a brow. "You're not desperate, and Holden is smarter than that."

I snorted. "Right!"

"You're not," Noah insisted. "Holden would be damn lucky to have you."

"Have you met me?"

Noah growled, and I sighed. I knew he hated when I said shit about myself.

He could say whatever he wanted, but we both knew the truth: I was desperate. Desperate to be wanted. To be loved. But Holden was this handsome, wealthy, polished alpha who seemed to barely tolerate me on the best of days. And then, last night, he'd been so... gentle. So careful.

And I could swear he kissed my forehead before he left. Or maybe that was just me wishing he had.

It made my heart race in ways I wasn't ready to look too closely at... and had no business hoping for.

Noah seemed to pick up on my feelings because he patted my leg, his smile softening. "Listen, Mylo, it's not as bad as you think. Holden's not the kind of guy to freak out over something like that. If anything, he was probably worried about you. Besides, he should be flattered."

I groaned and fell back against the pillows. "That's even worse. I don't want his pity. And I bet he has a bunch of drunk omegas hitting on him... Seriously, look at the guy. He probably thinks I'm just one in a line of many. But it's worse because I work for him."

"Trust me, it's not pity," Noah said, his tone a little more serious now. "I've known Holden a long time, and if he didn't care about you, he wouldn't have stuck around last night. He wouldn't have taken the time to make sure you're okay."

I closed my eyes, trying to get my brain to believe what he was saying, but all I could think about was the way Holden had looked at me last night—I could swear it was a mix of frustration and something else I couldn't quite place. But definitely not jumping for joy.

"I don't know," I said quietly. "I just... I don't want to make things weird between us. He's my boss. And he's... Holden. He's so out of my league it's not even funny."

"Out of your league?" Noah scoffed, shaking his head. "Kid, you're selling yourself way short. You're smart, you're talented, and you've got this great big, amazing heart. Anyone would be lucky to have you. Even Holden... especially Holden."

I managed to give Noah a half-hearted smile, but I was definitely not convinced. "Thanks, Noah. But still. I think I'll avoid him for the next decade or so."

Holden should be with someone who knew you didn't guzzle bourbon at a tasting.

Noah laughed again and stood up, ruffling my hair. "Good luck with that. You know he's going to check in on you later, right?"

I groaned, pulling the blankets over my head. "Just kill me now."

"Nah," Noah said, his voice filled with amusement. "You're tougher than you think—or give yourself credit for, Mylo. I know you'll figure it out."

With that, he left the room, the door clicking shut behind him, and I was finally left alone with my thoughts. My embarrassing, humiliating thoughts.

Way to go, Mylo!

I sighed and dragged myself out of bed, downing the rest of the orange juice before stumbling into the bathroom. One look in the mirror told me everything I needed to know—I looked like death warmed over. My hair was a mess, my eyes were bloodshot, and there were dark circles under my eyes that made me look like I could give a panda a run for its money.

"Good job, Mylo," I muttered to my reflection. "Really great first impression."

Okay, so it wasn't a first impression, technically—but it was a shit show all the same.

I splashed some cold water on my face, trying to wake myself up, but no amount of water was going to wash away the humiliation. I'd practically... literally thrown myself at Holden, and now I had to face him, knowing he'd seen me at my absolute worst.

I might as well have gotten on all fours with my ass in the air, begging him to breed me.

Ugh! "You're not supposed to get hard or wet thinking about that," I growled at my reflection.

Then again, Noah had a point. Holden hadn't run screaming. He hadn't laughed in my face. He'd gotten me in bed, taken my shoes off, and covered me with a blanket. He'd been kind.

Maybe... maybe there was hope after all.

I shook my head, trying to clear it. Or maybe he's just a decent guy. I couldn't let myself think like that. I couldn't let myself hope for something that probably... definitely wasn't real. Holden was just being nice because he was a good guy, and he didn't want me embarrassing his guest by being a drunken idiot.

That does not mean he wants anything more.

I sighed, heading back into the bedroom and flopping down on the bed. The hangover was still raging, but at least the aspirin was starting to kick in. I closed my eyes, trying to relax, but all I could think about was Holden. The way he'd looked at me... okay, that part might have been wishful thinking. But those strong arms holding me up when I could barely stand on my own...

"You're being ridiculous. Remember why you're here, how you got here. No alphas, " I told myself. "Just let it go."

But I knew that was easier said than done.