Chapter 2

Chapter Two

Brooklyn

M averick's smoky, nutty scent floods the air as he tosses his arm over the back of the booth. We've naturally moved closer the longer we sit side by side, and my instincts don't mind a bit. His pheromones soothe my anxious nerves in a way I haven't experienced before.

I'd say it's probably a reaction to how compatible we are. His warmth frames my left side as he moves closer, and I fight the urge to snuggle up to his chest. It would be totally inappropriate, and I couldn't even blame it on being tipsy. We've been sitting here, getting to know each other, for probably close to an hour, and I've only had half a beer.

Which reminds me.

I move to pick up my bottle, but my hand shakes. It nearly tumbles over as I fumble the grab.

Luckily, Gunner sits in the booth across from us, and he swipes it up before it can land against the wooden table.

"S-Sorry," I stutter, shaking my head as my cheeks heat.

"I'm used to it." Gunner chuckles, and it changes his entire face to see him happy. "Maverick isn't the most graceful of human beings."

"That, I am not," Maverick says, laughing good-naturedly. "How long have you lived in the city?"

Gunner slides the bottle back, and this time, I manage to bring it to my lips with no major disasters.

"Four years," I answer on autopilot.

The reminder of why I came and how quickly those dreams dissolved makes my heart pang.

"Ahh, so you didn't grow up here. Gunner did." Maverick takes a swig of his beer and uses the bottle to point at his friend.

"You didn't?" I ask, twisting to look at Maverick. He's got a slight twang to his voice at times that reminds me of home.

"No, I grew up in Virginia," he says, bumping his shoulder against mine. "How about you?"

"North Carolina."

"What brought you to New York?" Gunner asks, leaning forward as he snags my beer. He brings it back to rest in the middle of the table.

"School," I say, shaking my head. "College. I had a scholarship."

Gunner's eyes glimmer as the edges of his lips tip up, and he gives me an encouraging nod, as if he's waiting for me to go on.

So, I do.

The conversation goes on for so long that I start to feel at ease.

Gunner may have the whole tall, dark, and unbelievably handsome thing going on, but there's also an underlying level of tenderness that helps me come out of my shell.

Every time I coax a smile out of him, it feels like a win. Not to mention the slight dimples that appear in his short stubble when he finds something amusing.

Maverick is the opposite, with lighter features. He has short blond waves that fall over his forehead and blue eyes. He's also sporting a thick beard in the same color as the longer hair on top of his head. There are black gauges in his ears and dark tattoos peeking out around his shirt.

Though, Gunner might have more ink than Maverick, considering even the tops of his hands are covered in tatts.

But where Gunner is quiet and encouraging, Maverick is silly and playful.

It's quite the combination.

Having the attention of both men trained on me does something wonderful, something terrifying, to my insides.

"It seems like it's reached the part of the night when everyone hits the dance floor," Maverick says close to my ear as he squeezes my knee. "Dance with us?"

Gunner stretches back against the booth, like he's giving me extra space to think through the offer, but he quirks a brow. It feels like he's letting me know he's interested too.

"Y-Yeah," I agree in a breathy tone I didn't know I possessed. "I'd love to."

Maverick scoots out of the booth and offers me a hand.

I take it, and he tugs me up and into his chest. His scent slaps into me, and my nose twitches, trying to determine exactly what that smell is. It's like smoky chestnuts or maybe cooked macadamia nuts? I don't know exactly what it is, but I love it.

My silly heart races as he bends low, nuzzling his cheek to mine. "God, Brooklyn. You smell fucking delectable."

"She does," Gunner muses, his warmth appearing at my back. He pulls my hair away from my face and speaks close to my ear. "He's been hogging you all night." With that, he tugs me back, wraps his arm around my shoulder, and guides me toward the other dancing couples. "Let's rectify that."

Holy shit.

They're really hot.

And definitely out of my league.

My heart races as my hands hit the sink in the bar bathroom. It's been so long since I've even been out on a date, but I needed to get out so bad.

My instincts haven't been settled in months, and it's gotten a million times worse since I broke up with my ex.

I've barely left my house, but that's not solely because of my instincts.

Life is complicated as an omega.

It's nearly impossible to flourish without a pack, or at the very least, an alpha to help soothe our system.

Not to mention heats.

It's a whole mess.

Alphas need omega pheromones, or they end up feral. Omegas need alpha pheromones, or we end up touch starved.

It's such a catch-22.

My system doesn't care that I haven't found a pack yet. It still craves alphas, even if my only option before tonight was my slimeball ex.

I've had enough of his crap.

This adventure is supposed to be just for me.

But what about them? Are you really going to put their lives at risk?

My hands shake violently as my gaze falls to look at my feet.

Avan isn't just a run-of-the-mill asshole ex.

He's connected.

I know him well enough to understand that he's allowed to do whatever he wants.

Hell, he did what he wanted while we were together .

Those rights don't apply to me, though.

My chest gets tight as I weigh my options.

Maverick and Gunner are hot. They smell nice, and they've been nothing but respectful.

They seem like really good guys.

It's clear they'd be down for more than just hanging out and having a drink.

But you literally ran away from them .

My hand flies to cover my face as I recall how I panicked and blurted out that I needed a bathroom break.

I'm sure they're waiting for me to come back to the table right now.

They're just too compatible.

I'm afraid that if I let myself get close to them, it'll be nearly impossible to force myself away when morning comes.

God, what a mess.

Getting them involved in the clusterfuck I call a life would be totally unfair at the least and borderline dangerous at the worst.

"I have to go," I whisper as my stomach drops at the realization.

Hooking up with them would probably be life-changing. Then, I'd have to go back to my real life, and it would hurt even more, knowing what I could have had.

You made a huge mistake coming out at all.

It's time to get home and check on my daughter.

It was a nice thought, but I was always fighting a losing battle against time.