Chapter 14

14

UGH, MEETINGS

Octavia

Waking up in a guest bedroom feels like a betrayal to my heart. The sheets are crisp and cool, but they do nothing to soothe the ache deep inside me. I squint against the morning light filtering through the sheer navy curtains, the rays dancing across the floor and reminding me of a time when everything felt right. But that was before I learned about Rachel and the life she carries — Wyatt’s life that isn’t just ours anymore.

I blink away the remnants of sleep and the memories of last night’s tears. My eyes are swollen, a painful reminder of my own vulnerability. I can’t stay in this room, suffocating under the weight of my thoughts. I swing my legs over the edge of the bed and push myself up, the delicate balance of grief and hope swirling within me like a tempest.

I step into the hallway, the wooden floor cool beneath my bare feet. I glance toward the door that leads to our suite, or what used to be our suite, and I feel a pang of longing for the comfort it once provided. But now, it feels like a sanctuary of ghosts.

I approach Wyatt’s door, hesitating for just a moment before I turn the brass knob. I can hear the shower running, the soothing sound of water cascading against tiles, and I know he’s in there, likely lost in his own thoughts, just like me. I move quickly to the closet, trying not to dwell on the myriad of emotions swirling around me.

As I sift through my clothes, I opt for something that feels like me today. I pull out a midnight blue off-the-shoulder sweater that hugs my curves in just the right way, pairing it with my favorite black leather leggings. I glance at the mirror and try to ignore the way I look — disheveled and heartbroken. I bend down to zip up my ankle boots, my thoughts still racing, when the closet door swings open.

I don’t look up immediately. I can hear him, the soft sound of his footsteps on the floor, and I can feel the warm air that follows him, carrying the scent of his shower gel. The sound of a towel dropping, the soft thud against the floor, sends a shiver down my spine. I finally glance up, and my breath catches in my throat.

Wyatt stands there, his body glistening with water, droplets trailing down his chest and disappearing into the towel wrapped around his waist, the towel he must have used to dry his hair lay discarded. He’s breathtaking, as always, but today, the sight stings rather than soothes. I turn my head away, focusing on the wall instead. I can’t let myself feel that rush of longing. Not now.

“Hey,” he says softly, his voice laced with concern. “You look?—”

“Don’t,” I interrupt, not ready to hear any compliments that might shatter this fragile wall I’ve built around my heart. I pull myself together, glancing back at my clothes, focusing on the fabric instead of the man standing before me. “I’m fine.”

Wyatt’s face falls slightly, and I can see the hurt flickering in his eyes. I hate that I’m doing this to him, but I need space, even if it feels like a chasm between us.

“I just wanted to remind you,” he says gently, “we have the cake tasting in an hour for the ceremony. I can cancel if you want.”

“No,” I snap, a little too sharply, and I immediately regret it. “I don’t want to cancel. I can go alone if you need to deal with…whatever else you have going on.”

He watches me for a moment, his gaze steady and searching. I can see him weighing his words, contemplating how to bridge the gap that has widened between us. Finally, he nods, a resigned look on his face. “Okay. But I’d prefer to walk down together. And I’d like you to sit in the meeting with me, Dalton, and Rachel today.”

The mention of Rachel sends a fresh wave of bitterness rolling through me. I don’t want to be in a room with her, let alone discuss anything regarding our future. She’s the embodiment of everything I can’t have, and the thought of sitting across from her feels unbearable.

“Why do you want me there?” I ask, my voice barely above a whisper.

“Because I want you to be part of this,” he replies, his voice firm yet gentle. “You are part of this.”

His words resonate, but they also confuse me. How can I be a part of something that feels so fundamentally broken? I shake my head, frustration bubbling just beneath the surface. “You don’t understand. How can I be there, knowing what she represents?”

Wyatt steps closer, and I can see the resolve in his eyes. “I know this is hard, Octavia. I’m not asking you to pretend everything is okay. I’m asking you to stand by me while we figure this out together.”

I want to believe him. I want to believe that we can navigate this storm together, but the thought of Rachel lurks in the shadows, haunting every moment.

“Just give me a minute,” I say, retreating into the bathroom to brush my teeth and collect myself. The cool bristles of my toothbrush feel almost foreign against my lips as I try to keep my mind from spiraling. A moment alone to breathe, to think, to gather my shattered heart.

As I rinse my mouth and splash water on my face, I catch a glimpse of my reflection. The woman looking back at me is a stranger — lost and fragile, with an edge of defiance. I know I need to be strong, but strength feels elusive today.

I finish up and step back into the bedroom, where Wyatt is now dressed in a fitted hunter green henley and jeans that cling to his athletic frame. He looks ready to take on the world, but I feel like I’m crumbling beneath the weight of my feelings.

“Ready?” he asks, his tone a mixture of hope and uncertainty.

I nod, though uncertainty grips my heart. We step out into the hallway together, the distance between us palpable. I can feel the unspoken tension hanging in the air, thick and heavy. I need to be strong like Poppy said. I can do this… right?

As we walk down to the kitchen, my mind races with thoughts. How can I face Rachel? What if she tries to pull Wyatt back into her orbit? I glance at him, his expression focused ahead, and I can’t help but wonder if he’s thinking about her too.

The kitchen door swings open, and the rich aroma of freshly baked cakes wafts through the air, momentarily distracting me from my spiraling thoughts. The sight of the beautiful table set for the cake tasting takes my breath away. Layers of decadent flavors and intricate designs await us, a celebration of my Luna Ceremony that feels tainted by the reality of our situation.

Dalton is already there, his easy smile lighting up the room. “Hey, you two! Ready to make some tough decisions?” He gestures to the array of cakes, each one more stunning than the last.

“Sure,” I say, forcing a smile as I step further into the kitchen. It feels like a performance, but I can’t let anyone see the cracks forming beneath my facade.

Wyatt stands beside me, and I can feel the warmth radiating from him, a reminder of everything we’ve built together. I need to hold on to that warmth, even as I prepare for the inevitable confrontation that awaits.

“Let’s get started,” I say, trying to sound enthusiastic, though my heart is still heavy. We gather around the table, the tension simmering just beneath the surface, ready to erupt at any moment.

As we taste the cakes, I try to focus on the flavors, the textures, the beauty of the moment. But my mind keeps drifting back to Rachel. The door swings open again, and my heart skips a beat as she walks in, her presence instantly altering the atmosphere.

“Sorry I’m late!” Rachel exclaims, her voice bright as she glances around the kitchen. “I hope I didn’t miss anything too important.”

I can feel Wyatt’s eyes on me, but I refuse to look at him. Instead, I fix my gaze on Rachel, trying to decipher her intentions. She seems genuinely cheerful, but I can’t shake the feeling that her happiness is a mask, hiding something deeper.

“Tavia and Alpha Wyatt just came in,” Dalton replies, his voice cheerful. “We’re just about to start tasting the cakes.”

Rachel steps closer, her eyes landing on Wyatt. “I can’t wait to see what you pick Wyatt! This is such an exciting time for you.”

“Yeah,” I say, forcing the word out through clenched teeth. The excitement feels foreign, like a cruel joke, and the tension in the room thickens.

As we begin tasting the cakes, I can feel the weight of Rachel’s gaze lingering on Wyatt, and a primal instinct rises within me. I can’t let her charm him; I can’t let her weave her way back into his life.

“Wyatt, what do you think of this one?” she asks, leaning over the table, her voice honeyed and inviting. “I think it really captures the essence of a Luna Ceremony. It’s what I would pick.”

I watch as Wyatt turns toward her, his expression thoughtful. “It’s good,” he replies, his tone neutral. “But I think Octavia has some ideas of her own. What do you think, Gorgeous?”

I can feel the heat rush to my cheeks, a mixture of embarrassment and frustration. “I have plenty of ideas,” I say, trying to inject some confidence into my voice. “I just think we should focus on what feels right for us.”

Rachel nods, but her smile doesn’t quite reach her eyes. “Of course. It’s your day, not mine, after all.”

The words hang in the air, heavy with unspoken tension. I can see Dalton shifting nervously, his gaze darting between the three of us. He’s probably sensing the undercurrents of conflict and trying to diffuse the situation.

As we taste another cake, I can’t shake the feeling that Rachel is waiting for the right moment to pounce. I glance at Wyatt, whose brow is furrowed in concentration, and I wonder if he’s aware of the storm brewing around us.

“Okay, let’s take a quick break,” Dalton suggests, sensing the unease. “How about some coffee? We can come back to the tasting in a few minutes.”

I nod, grateful for the reprieve. I need a moment to gather my thoughts, to fortify myself against the uncertainty that looms ahead. As we step away from the table, I can feel Rachel’s eyes on me, and I brace myself for the confrontation I know is coming.

“Octavia,” Rachel begins, her tone deceptively sweet. “I know things are complicated right now, but I hope you know that I’m not trying to come between you two.”

I can’t help it; my heart races with indignation. “It certainly feels that way,” I reply, my voice sharp.

Her expression falters, but she quickly regains her composure. “I understand this is hard, but I genuinely want what’s best for Wyatt. He deserves happiness.”

The words hang in the air, taunting me. “What makes you think he’ll find happiness with you?” I shoot back, unable to contain my frustration.

Rachel’s eyes flash with something — defiance, maybe. “Because I’m carrying his child, Octavia. I’m giving him a future, an heir.”

The room feels like it’s closing in on me, the walls vibrating with the tension between us. I can feel Wyatt’s presence behind me, steady and strong, but I don’t know how to navigate this conversation.

“I don’t want to fight with you,” Rachel continues, her voice softer now. “I want us all to be able to coexist, for Wyatt’s and our sons sake.”

“Coexist?” I scoff, incredulous. “You think that’s possible? You’re the reason everything feels so shattered right now.”

“Octavia,” Wyatt interjects, stepping closer to me. “Let’s not do this here, baby girl.”

I shake my head, feeling the heat of anger coursing through me. “No, Wyatt, don’t ‘baby girl’ me. This needs to be addressed. We can’t just ignore the elephant in the room.”

Rachel opens her mouth to respond, but Dalton steps in, sensing the mounting tension. “How about we take a breather? Coffee or maybe some tea sounds good. I know our Luna loves that Chai stuff, right? Let’s just step outside for a moment.”

I shoot him a grateful look, thankful for the distraction. As we move away from the table, I can feel the weight of Wyatt’s gaze on me, a mixture of concern and frustration.

“Octavia,” he says softly, trying to reach for me as I step back. “I know this is hard, but we need to handle this carefully.”

“I can’t just sit back and let her dictate the narrative,” I reply, my voice low but fierce. “This was my life too.”

“I understand that,” he replies, his tone steady. “But Rachel is going to be part of our lives, whether we like it or not, if this whole thing is even true. My wolf can’t sense a pup, but I don’t know if that’s because she’s not pregnant or because she’s not my mate. We need to find a way to navigate this without tearing each other apart.”

I glance at him, seeing the sincerity in his eyes. “And what if I can’t?”

He reaches out, his hand brushing against mine. “Then we’ll figure it out together. You’re not alone in this, okay?”

I take a deep breath, trying to quell the storm inside me. “Okay,” I whisper, though uncertainty still lingers.

As we step outside into the fresh air, I feel the weight of the world pressing against my chest. The sun shines brightly, illuminating the path ahead, but the shadows of doubt remain close behind.

We gather around the table outside, Dalton pouring coffee while Rachel and I exchange wary glances across from each other. The tension is still palpable, but for now, we’re taking a step back, allowing ourselves a moment of respite.

Wyatt sits beside me, his presence a comfort amidst the chaos. I can feel the warmth radiating from him, and for a moment, I allow myself to lean into it, hoping that together we can weather the storm that’s brewing on the horizon.

“I’ll always choose you, I’ll always love you mate,” he murmurs, his words a balm for my aching heart. “No matter what.”

I nod, knowing that his promise holds weight. But as we return to the kitchen, I can’t shake the feeling that our lives are tangled in a web of uncertainty, and the path forward is anything but clear.

But for now, I’ll hold on to hope, to the possibility of love amidst the chaos. I’ll fight for us, for our future, even as the shadows of doubt loom ever closer. Because in this moment, as we sit together, I know that our love is worth the battle.