Page 39

SEVEREN

Skye had the brilliant idea to take Crux and Halo down to the beach so that I could talk to Rowan one on one, man to man, alpha to alpha. I’m sure he felt ambushed as he walked through the door to find me sitting at the dining room table, staring squarely in his direction.

He slowly shut the front door and let out a breath.

“So,” he said. “It’s finally time for us to hash this out.”

“There’s fresh coffee in the pot,” I offered. “Or whatever you want. Soda. Beer.”

Rowan took the harness off his dog, who settled under the table with a thud and a sigh, completely untroubled by my presence or on alert on behalf of his master.

Seems the dog already adopted me as pack.

Rowan poured himself a black coffee, then joined me at the table, sitting in the chair across from me.

“Do you love her?” I asked, point blank. “Or are you just projecting feelings you think you have because she has your omega’s heart?”

“She’s not Indigo,” Rowan shook his head. “I know that.”

“Why do you love her, then?”

“Crux asked me the same question.”

This didn’t surprise me. Crux was a whole different level of reactive and protective. “And what did you tell him?”

“I told him that the pain goes away when Skye is around.” He studied me over the coffee cup, gazing through the rising veil of steam.

“I think you need a different answer than he did,” Rowan said.

“She’s kind, and brave, and has good taste in movies.

She isn’t vain or shallow. She has more compassion than anyone I’ve ever met, including Indigo.

” He ran a hand through his dark hair, black as jet.

“Part of me thinks maybe Indigo sent Skye to me. Maybe even sent all of you to me.”

I didn’t react. I found the idea ridiculous but didn’t want to insult the memory of the dead, or whatever little private jokes or connections they had in their relationship.

We sat in silence for a while as I ruminated on my words.

Rowan sat and sipped his coffee, careful not to slurp or swallow too hard, like it would set off the violent alpha in me, one that barely existed and never rose to the surface.

I had never been that kind of alpha. I was the strong type, steadfast. Or at least I thought I was.

These last few months, though, made me doubt everything I thought I knew about myself.

“Please say something,” Rowan said, finally shattering the uncompanionable silence.

Lifting my coffee mug, I took a long drink, my eyes still steely and focused on him. I sat my mug down, and gave him more silence as I slotted the words into an acceptable order.

“When I look at you,” I began. “I see a symbol of all the ways I failed her. How I allowed her to get hurt.”

Rowan’s brows twisted in confusion, but he didn’t ask questions or interrupt me. He just listened and allowed me to speak.

“All my alpha strength and control, and I couldn’t save her when she needed me the most. I had become incompetent, useless, and powerless. Then, out of… I don’t know, fear, maybe, I abandoned her. And then as a final insult, I was the one who caused her to run away. Directly into your arms.”

Rowan shook his head. “No. The only one who failed anybody was me.”

“You?” I asked. “You saved her life.”

“Indigo saved her life,” Rowan countered.

“I didn’t do anything. I…” He lifted his arm and ran his sleeve across his nose.

“I… We were… I was driving my motorcycle. She was holding on behind me. I lost control…I was thrown from the bike, skid down the pavement. But Indigo…” He blinked, forcing away the tears that gathered in his deep blue eyes.

“The bike flipped and she landed wrong.” He sniffled and looked away.

“I didn’t do anything . Someone else even called the ambulance.

Not me.“ He wiped his eyes with a harsh press of the heel of his palm. “Sorry.”

“My point,” Rowan continued after he had regained his composure.

“Is that I think Indigo forgives me. That’s what I meant when I said maybe she had a hand in bringing me to Skye.

And I know, without a doubt, that Skye doesn’t blame you for anything.

And she forgives anything you still think you’ve done wrong.

The only thing holding us back is our pain.

You and I, we need to forgive ourselves. ”

Once Rowan’s speech died down, the silence echoed in the cozy kitchen space.

“How long have you been rehearsing that?” I asked.

Rowan sighed. “Okay, plan B.”

He pulled a folded sheet of paper from his jeans pocket and tossed it across the table.

“What’s this?” I asked, picking up the page. “A ransom letter? I do what you say or I’ll never see Skye again?”

“I read your book,” Rowan said.

“Oh, hell.” Artistic pride mixed with the bitter sting of failure, and sent prickles up the back of my neck. I wanted to ask what he thought. I wanted to ramble on and on about the characters and plot and pacing. I also wanted every last copy flung into the sea and forgot that they ever happened.

“Wait, how?” I asked.

“I borrowed Skye’s copy.” A grin quirked the side of Rowan’s mouth. “I liked it. It genuinely kept me guessing. I think it’s shitty that it failed. I don’t think it got a fair shot.”

“You think you’ll win your way into my pack by stroking my ego?”

He didn’t falter. “I called around. Emailed. That ransom note is a list of bookshops, airports, mall kiosks and corner stores that are willing to sell your book on consignment. You’ll be on shelves. In stores.”

I studied him with a hard gaze. He seemed completely serious. Even his aura felt placid, but no-nonsense, devoid of any front or defense.

“If you lend me three or four copies I can put them in Fair Grounds tomorrow when I start my shift,” he added.

“When did you do all this?”

“A guy can get a lot done when he can’t sleep,” Rowan answered. “So, what do you say? Want to go for a drive?”

We packed the last two boxes of books into Rowan’s vehicle and we and the dog spent hours driving all through Port Haven, dropping off small orders of anywhere from two to five books at various places.

The last place was a newly re-opened bookshop in the Mired District called Paper Trail.

We walked in and everything looked and smelled like new.

The tiled floor was clean and bright, the shelves didn’t seem to have a scratch on them.

The cozy chairs still had their factory shape and didn’t have a single tear or stain on the upholstery.

A petite omega with pale eyes and dark hair walked up to greet us. “Welcome to Paper Trail.” She took one look at the box in my arms and gave a knowing half-smile. “You must be Severen. My name’s Stay.” She nodded to my full arms. “That our stock?”

“It is,” I said.

“Follow me.” She turned on her heel and led us to a round, multi-tiered table by the cash desk. “We’re doing a display for local authors,” she explained, holding a hand out for the first book. I reached in the box and handed her one.

“More,” she snapped her fingers, behaving rather bossy for an omega. I foraged out two more and handed them to her as well. Expertly, she arranged two copies to lay flat, spines out, then the third on top, supported by a stand so it stood face forward and proud.

“I read it, you know,” Stay said, nudging the top book just slightly so the cover didn’t catch any glare from the overhead lights.

“You did?” I blurted out. “How? I mean how did you read it? It was out of print.”

“Ebook.” She reached into the box herself and pulled out another copy. She opened the cover and scanned the copyright page. “Ahh, Yellow House Publishing.”

“What does that mean?” Rowan asked.

“They went bankrupt,” Stay answered. “Folded.” She handed me the book. “It’s a miracle you got your rights back.”

I grunted in response. I didn’t even think about that. Losing my publisher had given me such a feeling of malaise that I didn’t consider the legalities of everything.

“Anyway,” Stay said. “I liked it. A lot, actually.” She grinned up at me. “I mean, what starts out as a melancholy slice of life about a guy finding his pack, only to realize that all his pack-mates were different parts of his own personality ? How did you even think of that?”

Rowan smirked. “Seems you have a fangirl.”

“No,” Stay insisted indignantly, pointing a finger at him. “No. I just like a good book. I mean,” she scoffed. “Look around you.” She shrugged. “Anyway, if you give me your card or your number or something, I’ll contact you when we need a restock.”

“These are all the copies I have left,” I said.

“Oh,” her shoulders sank. “Well, then, here.” She took a card from the cash desk and handed it to me. “Contact us if you have any reissues, or reprints or anything.”

“Maybe,” I said.

She hauled herself up on the cash desk like it was her own personal nest. “Screw maybe . Sometimes things get a second chance. That could be what’s happening today.

Look, one of my alphas narrates audiobooks.

He’s freelance, with reasonable rates. Maybe that’s a way to grant your book a second life. ”

I couldn’t think of a way to respond. Or perhaps I ran into a time limit that she had been counting down in her head because she shrugged.

“Or not. It’s not my opus. I’m not the one who brought it into the world.”

Rowan picked up the now empty box. “We’ll consider it,” he said with a genial smile. “Thank you again, Stay.”

He nudged me toward the door and we left. He tossed the empty box into the back of his car and we were on our way back to the house.

“Why did you do this for me?” I asked when we were nearly home.

“I had to do something more than just talk my way into your pack,” he said. “I had to do something meaningful and specific to you. And the book is good. And I didn’t think some date at the local sports bar for beer and buffalo wings would cut it.”

I crossed my arms over my chest. “Too bad you put in all this hard work. I happen to like beer and buffalo wings.”

Rowan glanced at me, and I answered with a little grin.

“So now that you and me are okay, how are you and Skye?” he asked.

“Me and Skye? We’re good. We cleared everything up.”

“That’s good to hear,” Rowan said.

His tone made me curious, or maybe a little anxious. We were okay, right? She wouldn’t have made love to me if she was still angry. “Why? Did she say anything?”

“No. I’m just checking in.”

“We worked it out,” I answered. Or maybe Skye had just relented.

Maybe she let herself forgive me, took up the emotional labour.

An omega’s job was often to temper the alpha.

Maybe she couldn’t help but forgive me. And the others had been right, I had been more than an alphahole, I had been a true and unrepentant bastard. I needed to apologize properly.

My shoulders sank. “No,” I murmured. “But, I’m going to make it right.”