Page 11 of Altius (The Scent of Victory #2)

Seven

Morgan

“ T his place is nuts.” My younger brother, Rory, peered inside the player’s meeting room, the equivalent of a high-tech lecture hall. He was carrying a backpack with his essentials for a long weekend at home. “Can I look around?”

“Sorry, bud, not today.”

Another defensive player got hurt during practice, a shoulder sprain this time, and I needed to finish updating their medical chart and talk with Dr. McEwen before Kelsey arrived to pick us up.

“Don’t apologize. I know you’re busy.”

He slowed down at the entrance to the player’s lounge, rubbernecking to take in the array of glass-fronted fridges, ping-pong and air hockey tables, and arcade games.

“Okay, now I’m jealous. Is it true that—oh, there’s Alijah! Can I wait and say hi?”

Leaning closer to the doorframe, I spotted Alijah in the far corner of the lounge, wearing a blue V-neck sweater over a button-down instead of his customary polo shirt, recording a group of players.

Landon Choi, the team’s star kicker, stood in the center, holding a ridiculous-looking stuffed turkey.

“What are you most thankful for this year?” Alijah asked with a smile. Their answers were what you’d expect—teamwork, great coaches, outstanding support staff, friends, and family. “Awesome. Thanks, guys.”

While the players wished each other a happy Thanksgiving and gathered their things, Landon stepped closer to Alijah. He whispered something as he handed over the stuffed turkey and nodded in our direction.

Alijah quickly turned, eyes skimming over Rory to meet my gaze. His smile grew until it lit up the room.

“I’ve been looking for you.” Alijah almost sounded professional as he hurried over. Almost.

Landon was hot on his heels.

“Hey, Rory,” Alijah said, momentarily diverting his winning smile to my brother. “How’s it going?”

“Amazing! Finally got Morgan to let me in here, and it’s even more insane in person. And your job is so cool.” Rory turned to Landon and, apropos of nothing, announced, “I have your jersey.”

Alijah stifled a delighted laugh with the back of his hand.

After giving Alijah a pointed look—we really needed to work on his game face—I made quick introductions. “Landon, this is my younger brother, Rory. He’s a freshman majoring in mechanical engineering.”

“Really? That’s my major, too.” Landon held out a hand, which Rory shook with enthusiasm.

“Oh, I know,” Rory said, leaning closer, green eyes sparkling. “I’ve heard all sorts of rumors about the omega lounge. Is it as amazing as they say?”

“Totally. It’s way nicer than this one. Comfier furniture. Amazing snacks. We could go check it out—if that’s okay with you, doc?”

“Oh, can we?” Rory’s sticky mitts transferred to my arm, giving it a few pleading tugs. “Please, sis, please. I won’t be a pest. Promise.”

“Fine. But keep an eye on your phone.”

Rory tackled me with a hug. “You’re the best!”

He followed Landon down the hall and through the secured doorway into the omega player’s lounge, chattering away as if they’d known each other for ages.

Omega synergy was something else.

“Since you’re in a giving mood…” Alijah held out the stuffed turkey and gave it a suggestive wiggle. “Mind posing for our Thanksgiving appreciation post?”

I frowned at the offending fowl. “Ask Reyhan.”

“I did. He told me to ask you.”

Fighting the urge to sigh, I took the toy and moved to a blank portion of the wall. Wearing a practiced smile, I posed with the stupid turkey while Alijah took more photos than necessary.

Being the object of Alijah’s artistic focus was an unusual sensation that bordered on flustering.

“Just one more… Perfect!” Looking pleased, Alijah moved closer, but not too close, as he reclaimed the turkey. “I’m most thankful for the two of us being able to work together. What about you?”

Why did he always have to hint at his feelings at such inopportune moments?

Dragging a hand through my hair, I glanced at my phone. Kelsey would be here in less than twenty minutes. Pressure was building around my temples, and I was almost out of mental energy.

Which meant I was destined to disappoint Alijah yet again.

“That’s a very nice sentiment,” I said, “one that I return—but can you do me a solid and make something up for me?”

“Oh, are you still on the clock?” Alijah’s high spirits turned skittish. “I’m sorry. Thought you were done since Rory was here.”

“His last class was across the street. We’re spending the night with our parents,” I said, gesturing for him to follow me.

“That way, we can have at least one civilized conversation before the rest of the family invades tomorrow. After adding our older siblings and their packs, plus various grandparents and extended family members, it’s a feast for nearly fifty people, with the conversation volume to match. ”

Alijah’s brows arched up, and then a glorious laugh, rich and genuine, echoed throughout the hallway. “And I thought the four of us eating with Tabitha’s pack was a lot of people. But nine is nothing compared to fifty.”

“Nine sounds ideal, to be honest.” I leaned closer, almost brushing his arm. Having a meal with Tabitha Redmond and her pack would be a fascinating experience. “Want to switch places?”

Alijah’s near-black eyes trailed across my face and down my neck.

“No,” he said softly, hand settling on the small of my back as he pressed closer, reaching around me to open the door to sports medicine. “I’m not interested if you won’t be there.”

The pressure of Alijah’s hand increased as his head dropped forward, whispering in my ear, “I’ll write you the perfect caption—if you add a lunch back to our tally.”

I froze, not because Alijah’s full lips were millimeters from the shell of my ear or because his breath caused the ends of my hair to brush against my neck—well, not entirely.

Between the seizure and worrying about my hormone levels, I’d genuinely forgotten about my agreement to have three lunches with Joaquin and Alijah as an apology for omitting the fact that we were neighbors.

One lunch had been exchanged for serving as Alijah’s de facto date for the ballet’s fall gala.

Was a semi-embarrassing Thanksgiving social media post worth adding another date with the mated pair?

It was a tempting offer, but I didn’t want to mix work-related matters with our personal agreement.

“Nice try, but I’ll pass.” I turned, inadvertently rubbing my shoulder against his chest. “How about this? I’m thankful for the opportunity to work with and learn from an outstanding medical team during my fellowship. It’s amazing to be part of such a talented and dedicated organization.”

Alijah stood his ground, looking at me with anything but professional courtesy. “What about their immensely talented digital media coordinator?”

“Oh, him?” I flashed a teasing half-smile and slipped through the door. “He looks good today.”

Heading for my exam room, I did my best to ignore the blush warming Alijah’s brown cheeks or the satisfied flutter in my chest, because I had work to finish.

And fast.

Forty-five minutes later, I was reclined in the passenger seat of Kelsey’s hatchback with my eyes closed, waiting for a migraine pill to kick in.

Rory’s constant chatter—wishing he’d grabbed more snacks from the omega lounge, expounding about how he and Landon were already besties, asking if we could listen to the newest episode of his favorite true crime podcast, lamenting that Jenna was skipping Thanksgiving with the family again, and musing that he might have forgotten to pack underwear—was a decent facsimile for white noise.

My phone vibrated. It was a text from Alijah. A personal text, the first of its kind, in a chat full of previously business-only messages.

I haven’t forgotten our promise. When can we finish our conversation?

I didn’t know how to answer him. It wasn’t fair that I’d been avoiding revisiting his half-confession from the ballet gala, but how were we supposed to talk about his feelings for me when I had the threat of mate waning syndrome hanging over my head and my heat coming up?

In a few weeks. When I’m in better shape.

Okay. I can wait a bit longer. But not too long.

Soon. I promise.

That makes it two promises.

I know. Hold me to them.

***

Thanksgiving was delicious chaos. The food was exquisite, as always, with a mountain of leftovers.

Precisely timed doses of medication kept my head from exploding.

By the time eight o’clock hit, my social battery was drained, and I didn’t want to listen to my cousin recite the story of how her pack proposed for the third time today.

After bidding my parents and other assorted relatives goodnight, I retreated with a mug of tea and a large slice of Mom’s apple pie.

Holed up in my childhood bedroom, a nest-like dormer room on the third floor of our family’s rambling old colonial farmhouse, I lounged on my pillow-strewn bed beneath a skylight, wearing Cal’s pilfered maroon cardigan and pretending to read—but I was actually staring at the clock.

I could hear Rory rummaging through his dresser on the other side of the wall. Looking for roomier sweatpants, no doubt. He’d enjoyed Thanksgiving dinner to the fullest, including three slices of Kelsey’s cranberry gingersnap pie, the surprise hit of the festivities.

It was almost eleven at night, which meant it was eight in California. Forty-nine hours since I’d hung up on Jacobi and fifty-three hours since his last text.

I’d done the math twice.

A normal lapse for most people. But not my best friend, who could generate dozens of text messages per day. The prolonged silence was abnormal.

He hadn’t responded to any of the messages I’d sent throughout the day, not even the panoramic shot of the dessert buffet or the video of my baby nieces hurling mashed potatoes at each other.

Cal had been the exact opposite, practically begging for updates.

It seemed the Carling family’s version of Thanksgiving was formal to the point of suffocation, made even worse by the lingering worries about his grandfather’s health.