43. Meggie

43

Meggie

C rying and driving don't mix. I'm almost at Emily's apartment when I realize she isn't who I want to talk to, so I pull over on the side of the road and call my mom. Even as a grown adult, sometimes you just need your mom. If she wasn't over three hours away in Georgia, I'd drive straight there, but a three-hour drive when I can't stop crying isn't a good idea.

"Hey, sweetie." She answers on the second ring. "I'm so glad you called. We've been missing you. How's practice going?"

There's a bunch of noise in the background, and I can just picture them sitting down to breakfast. Mom, smiling and choking down Vicki's attempts at edible vegan pancakes while Lily covers her own plate in a metric ton of syrup.

My mom doesn't wait for my answer before she says, "Here, your sister wants to tell you about her school project."

"No!" I can't handle being passed around between all of them right now. "I really just need to talk to you, mom." My voice wavers.

"Oh, okay, sweetie." The noises die down, and I know mom's probably gone out to the porch. "What's going on?"

The entire story bursts out of me through choked sobs. My designation. Everything I've done to avoid being caught. The guys finding out. Their reactions. How much I care about them. All of it.

She just listens quietly through the whole thing. No shock, no judgment, no shame. When I'm finally out of breath and quiet, she says, "You need to go back to the house and talk to those boys of yours."

"Mom, I can't." I drop my head onto the steering wheel. "I can't let them put themselves at risk."

Staring down at the carpet beneath the steering wheel, I realize it's lacking the usual stray strands of hair and sand. It's too clean. Oz. Oz must have vacuumed my car for me. He's always cleaning his motorcycle and keeping it pristine.

"Let them? It's not your job to let them do anything," my mom says.

But I'm only half listening. I can't stop staring at the clean carpet. Is acts of service his love language?

"You know," my mom continues, "you're acting just like those stupid characters in my romance novels who break up just to protect the other one. Stupid, that's what it is."

"This isn't like that. They could get in real trouble. I looked it up, they could be fined a ridiculous amount of money, or—"

"Pfft, they're grown men! It's good they know, and I'm glad you said you wouldn't go unless there's agreement from everyone. But now you have to trust them to choose for themselves."

"But what if they regret it later?" I think of that dreamy look in my mom's eyes when she talks about the things she thought she would be and do before she got pregnant with me. I know she has regrets, even if she would never admit it.

"They might," she says unceremoniously. "But they could also regret not taking you with them. Regret goes both ways. You can't predict it, and you damn well can't control it. It's theirs to feel and theirs to deal with." She takes a long breath. "If you let them choose, they might not ever regret it, but if you take this choice away from them, I can almost guarantee it'll be more than just regret they'll feel down the line."

The steering wheel has probably made a red mark on my forehead by now, but I like my curled up position as my heart figures itself out and I take in my mom's words.

"Now, stop yammering and get back to those men of yours."

My throat feels tight and my eyes damp. "Thanks, mom."

"Love you, sweetie."

"Love you too."

Just as I hang up, there's a knock on my window. "You okay?"

I jerk upright. I'd know that voice anywhere. Daniel peers down at me. "I was on my way to Emily's for a team meeting and saw your car. You break down or something?"

His grin is almost gleeful. It's clear he likes the idea of me needing his help. "No. I'm fine."

"You don't look it." He grabs the door handle before I can lock it. Panic freezes me in place. My scent sours. My natural scent. It's been days since I've taken blockers and there's nothing to mask what I am.

I grab the door at the same moment it opens, trying to pull it closed, but it's too late.

For a moment, he's stunned. His eyes look like they're about to bug out of his head. His nostrils flare wide as he sniffs.

"Omega."