Chapter Twenty-Three

Riley

I keep my texts simple and succinct.

Something came up

Have to reschedule - maybe next month

I consider adding ‘sorry', but stop myself. Of everyone in my life right now who's owed an apology, my parents are not exactly at the top of the list.

Thorn's already helping Eve out of the SUV by the time I pull up at the den. I notice the restraint in his tendons, probably fighting the urge to carry her. There are no words spoken between them—between any of us—as she disappears inside.

"Marcus," I say, slinging my bag over my shoulder. "Did something happen?"

The driver's side door slams closed, and it's Baxter who answers, "Eve had an idea. She was pretty insistent on it."

"Oh yeah?" Red perks up. "Ideas are good, right? Means she's not dropping."

That her dropping is even a possibility to have crossed his mind—and mine—is horrifying.

Baxter explains, "She wants me to get in touch with the lawyers. See if we can drop the restraining order against her sisters."

My stomach sinks. "What?"

"We weren't happy about it, either," Marcus mumbles.

Red growls. "I don't trust the Carson omegas. Flora was meant to be the nice one out of the bunch, and look how that turned out."

I open my mouth to chime in—for instance, how do we know Carson won't try to hurt Eve through her sisters, if we give them this opening?—but then I shut it. I'm in no position to be telling Eve which family members she can and cannot see. The hypocrisy of it, after all the empathy she's shown me, is untenable.

"It's her choice," I say.

Red shoots me a look. "Just like it was ‘her choice' when she dragged us out to Almo's Depot?"

"If Eve held all your mistakes against you," I snap back, "how long do you think you'd stay bonded?"

Baxter sighs. "Riley's right. Unless there's a clear and present danger, we don't get to dictate who gets to be part of her life."

Glaring incredulously between us, realizing he's getting nowhere, Red turns his attention to Marcus. "Tell me you're not on board with this."

Marcus shrinks. "I am the one who keeps talking about the importance of family. Maybe, for Eve, that means her sisters. Besides—" he pushes on before Red can argue, "many pregnant omegas feel it's essential to have other omegas around."

"So we'll get her another omega! Hell, we could track down Bishop's and Harlow's omegas if she really needs the company."

Not the most tasteful thing he's ever said—objectifying at best, unfaithful at worst. Thankfully Baxter intervenes.

"These are not choices we are meant to make for her." He smiles soberly. "That's the whole point, Red."

Marcus scratches his jaw. "You know, I'm not even sure Bishop and Harlow have their own omegas."

"Harlow does," Baxter answers. "But Bishop's fairly young."

Must be a struggle to court omegas all the way out here, if you're not as wealthy as Baxter. The regional omegas are courted off pretty young, and the city omegas don't give us outsiders a second thought.

Red throws his arms up. "So that's it. You're gonna tell the court to drop our restraining order?"

"Against Flora and Lucille," Baxter clarifies. "And we're not telling them to do anything—it'll be a request made through our legal team."

"They'll probably say yes," I realize. "If it's true, and Lucille's been all but rejected from Carson, and Flora is fully integrated into her new pack … the crossover is a lot less."

"They'll also recognize the importance of Eve and Flora supporting each other during their pregnancies," Marcus says.

Also true. If there are two things high pack society holds sacred, it's alphas, and omegas who might be giving birth to alphas.

It makes a lot more sense to me now—why Eve was so scared when she thought she couldn't have pups. Her entire currency as an omega has always been founded on this one crucial ability.

I try not to show my disgust.

There are still so many questions I want to ask, but it occurs to me that Baxter probably doesn't have the answers yet. First, he'll need to talk to the lawyers, then probably to Thorn— god, what does Thorn have to say about this? —then I'm sure he'll report back to us.

Until then, I carry my bags inside, and lock the car behind me.

***

My parents get back to me with something simple. Polite, even.

But I know they're displeased.

It shouldn't bother me. In fact, it really pisses me off how much it bothers me. Their opinion stopped counting the day they rejected me.

Then why does it hurt so much ?

I push the thought aside. Actually, I push it down , as deep as it will go.

Baxter's busy that night, locked up in his study with Thorn, so I graciously volunteer to take a bath with Eve. Warily, Marcus watches me follow her into the ensuite.

He blurts out, "I'll join you."

I don't fight it, though I do fight the urge to roll my eyes.

Eve dips her toe into the water. I slip in behind her, sighing as the heat seeps into my muscles. Marcus perches on the edge of the tub, his fingers skirting the water's surface. No-one says anything to each other for a long time—Eve, lost in thought; me, stewing; Marcus, keeping a close eye on us to make sure I don't try anything sexy.

I give him a wry smile. "Stand down, soldier."

He looks away. "I didn't say anything."

"Uh-huh."

Truthfully I salute his efforts. If the doctor thinks Eve is pushing herself—that we're pushing her—it only makes sense that sex is officially off the table. Knowing Maddox, it couldn't hurt to have a resident cockblock.

I'm so busy thinking about that turn of phrase— cockblock— and if it even applies to me, that I jump at Eve's soft voice.

"I'm sorry, alpha."

She's not making eye contact, but I know the words are for me.

I frown, leaning toward her. "Sorry for what, pretty girl?"

"We were meant to meet your parents today. I only remembered when we got back to the den … it was so selfish of me."

"Woah, hey, hey." I tuck her hair back. "Don't even worry about that. My parents have waited six years to see me—they can wait another month."

Her lilac eyes darken. I've always known how shrewd she is, but something about this look … it's like she suddenly has x-ray vision.

"I'm not sorry to them," she says, "I'm sorry to you."

"But I told you, I'm okay—"

" You're not ."

Even Marcus flinches at this—this voice of steel, those flashing x-ray eyes.

I swallow. "Eve …"

"You've been upset since the moment we got home," she tells me, softer now. "Please, don't lie to me. Just tell me …" she takes my hand off her face and holds it in hers. "What's really going on?"

Damn . For every time I've been punched, stunned, or winded, nothing takes my breath away quite like my mate.

And the words just spill out, one after the other.

"They seemed disappointed. Which, obviously, doesn't matter." I huff. " Shouldn't matter. For all I know, I'm reading into it, searching for some way I might've upset them. But that's what they're like, you know? My parents, when they're pissed, they don't get mad. They get cold. For months, and months—years, if they have to. But in that time, I know what they're thinking. I know they're ash—" I cut myself off, surprised by how hoarse my throat has become.

Eve kisses my knuckles. Marcus puts his hand on my shoulder.

I take a breath. "I shamed them. And I guess a part of me is always scared that I'm going to shame them again."

A weight rises off my shoulders, each word freeing me little by little. But I can still feel it, hanging in the air, threatening to come crashing back down at any moment.

Eve pulls my wrist to her neck, fusing our scents, and then lowers me down to her breast, where my bond mark peers above the water. Her eyes never leave mine.

The weight dissolves into steam, and soap, and pheromones.

And already, I've started to forget the person I used to be.