1. Brinlee

1

Love always finds a way

"Oh, shit!" The words leave my mouth as I crash into someone's back, smacking my forehead into something hard—a backpack, I realize—and everything I was holding tumbles to the floor. "Christ."

"Here, let me help," the man says—a beta, I realize from the scent and shape of him—helping me gather the medicines back into the paper bag. "Sorry, miss… wait. Brin? Brinlee!"

I get up—a little too fast, which sends my head spinning. "Noah. What are you doing here?"

Here being a drugstore I don't usually visit, as it's nowhere near my job or home. Since he's my co-worker, I wonder why he'd be visiting the drugstore next to Grace Memorial hospital, as I am.

He shrugs, gives me a sheepish smile. "Just happened to pass by on my way to my sister's place."

Just a coincidence, then. I nod, relieved, my worst suspicions fading, clutching the paper bag with the medicine in my hands. My heart is pounding. I force a little smile. "Right. How is Gina?"

"Terrific. She's in negotiations with a pack. She thinks they will claim her soon."

Negotiations. What a word. Makes it sound like a business transaction. Then again, omegas are often caught in this kind of hairy situation, omegas being the most coveted but also the most abused of designations. Such has always been the way of the world, or so I'm told. Whoever has value but no power will be exploited by those who do.

I know that sounds so jaded.

And I'm so glad I'm not an omega myself, though the bold D marked on my ID isn't all that much better. Deltas are perhaps even lower in class than omegas, since we have similar characteristics and body types, but we don't boast of ever going into heat and lack their legendary fertility and ability to drive alphas out of their minds with lust.

Which is partly why I am so glad. I can't imagine wanting anyone going out of their fricking minds over me.

And partly because I can't imagine losing control over my own body.

Overall, the alpha-omega dynamic is kind of insane.

"So I'll be on my way," Noah says and I blink, realizing I lost track of what he was saying. How mortifying. "My regards to Tyson. How is he, by the way?"

Tyson is my brother. And I say, "Oh, you know. Ups and downs. He's fine."

A total lie. We're not fine. But I busy myself with the paper bag, not letting him see my eyes. I'm told eyes are the window to the soul, and mine are like open doors.

"I gotta go, too," I say.

Another lie. There's nowhere I got to be right now. Not for another couple of hours that I need to kill before I head off to work.

I need to read.

I literally mean that. I need to read. Books have always been my grand escape, but there is no library in this part of town, and right now, my money is limited. Very limited. I download as many free books as I can on my phone, and the truth is, some of the books I like are better read furtively on a phone so that others can't catch a glimpse, but sometimes… Sometimes, I need to hold a paperback or hardcover book in my hands, feel the pages under my fingertips, smell that wonderful smell of paper and ink.

Transports me right back to my early childhood. I could…

"Take care, Brin. See you around." Noah waves as he goes, and for a split second, I wonder if he fancies me.

A handsome beta, my co-worker, friendly and seemingly interested in me whenever we come across each other. He even remembers my brother's name. Isn't that a clue?

Oh God, no. No way. I shake my head at myself. He knows what I do for a living. People can be friendly to one another without fancy entering the equation, I remind myself. Like I am friendly with Sawyer.

Sawyer. Now, that's a friendly person who's always on my mind.

Of course he is. He's so handsome… no wonder he's been on my mind, and on cue, I find my steps turning south.

There is a café I discovered last year. It's on a busy avenue with nice, new buildings, though the building where the café is housed is pretty old. It has a kind of old-world charm, and the café has a Parisian air about it. Kind of gloomy and old-fashioned, with a smell of roasted coffee beans and vanilla.

To my delight, it's filled with books.

The Book Café, it's called, this dream place, and it's run by Sawyer, a cute omega man. That's how I met him. He's proven to be a kind, sweet guy, from our few interactions over the past year.

I wonder if he still around. He has to be. Not everyone disappears on you without notice. And yeah, I know, we never exchanged numbers or anything of the sort, so what notice would he give to a girl he barely knows, but… I haven't been here in weeks.

And suddenly, an urgency grips me to see him, talk to him, make sure he's still there. Make sure he's alive and well and real.

I'm going insane. That has to be the cause of this fear. Or reading too much fantasy. Back in the day, Mom always said I shouldn't read that stuff, but I never listened.

This is the real world, Brin. Sawyer is real. And sadly, what you're going through is also real. Don't let the idea of magic convince you otherwise. Life is a struggle. Life is a battle. And you need to win.

As I hurry toward the café, Sawyer's face flashes through my mind again.

I have done my best not to think about him, not to read too much into his kindness, but attractive men who also happen to be friendly are a hook in the heart. So hard to take out.

But rationally I know that Sawyer isn't interested in me romantically. He must be looking for a pack, if he hasn't secured one already. Someone like him surely won't have any trouble finding a pack. He must have packs fighting over him.

And I… I'm so tired.

I just need a safe, quiet place to land and hide for a while. The Book Café has been that place for me in the past. I hope it's still there. I hope Sawyer is around. I hope… for small things, nowadays. Gone is the girl who imagined finding and being with a sweet pack of people just like her—in love with reading and soft sofas, reading nooks and libraries, with fantasy and romance, with a fairytale to live in. Escaping reality.

Now reality has smacked me in the face one too many times and gotten a choke-hold of my throat.

Yeah, small things are awesome. An hour lost in a good book. A delicious cup of coffee. A quiet presence nearby. A smile.

Sawyer's face.

Yeah, I'd settle for that. I'd be lucky to have it. One day at a time, one little luxury at a time, to stop my mind from imploding. I just hope it works.