Page 68 of Altius (The Scent of Victory #2)

Forty-Three

Morgan

“ H ow are you feeling?” Kelsey asked as she served me a plate of lasagna on Thursday night.

“A bit of a headache, but nothing out of the norm.”

At least nothing that a double dose of meds and wearing Cal’s maroon cardigan couldn’t fix.

It was just the two of us—an increasingly rare occurrence—which meant it was time for an overdue conversation about our sisterly state of affairs.

After settling into her customary seat, Kelsey took small bites between probing stares, her green eyes overflowing with silent questions.

“It’s about fifty-fifty odds, Kels.”

“Are you just saying that to make me feel better?”

“No. That’s Cal’s honest opinion.” I was telling the truth.

He and I had discussed the possible outcomes at length after Chantal’s directive to avoid Wyatt.

“Even if I do have waning syndrome, it’s mild.

Mostly hormone fluctuations and weight loss—but then again, my body could still be trying to process having a heat for the first time in three years. ”

“But your pheromones are so inconsistent. Not a whiff for days and then boom. Orchid explosion.”

“Which could be explained by my anosmia. If I can’t tell when I’m emitting pheromones, how can I control the volume?”

Kelsey worried her bottom lip for a moment before giving a begrudging nod. “At least the rusty note’s gone.”

“I think the most likely outcome will be that I get put on a scent-blocker, have another heat in April or May, and everything will sort itself out.”

“Without mating Wyatt?”

I slowly sliced through each layer of pasta with the side of my fork. “That’s still up for debate.”

We ate in silence for a bit before I asked my own pressing, pest-based question. “Jacobi sent me seventeen texts today, wondering what you thought of the building.”

Kelsey tensed. “He keeps bombarding me, too.”

“You can turn him— us —down. We’re buying the building regardless. Dad’s handling the sale.”

Having an experienced realtor for a father came in handy when your best friend had a bad habit of wanting to waive inspections to save money, especially since we almost always had to take our rehabs back to the studs.

If the old garment factory was as full of lead and asbestos as I feared, Dad would make sure we got a good deal.

“It’s not that I don’t like the building or see the potential.

But being here…” Kelsey set down her fork and pushed her plate away, resting an arm on the table as she met my gaze.

“Everything is set up the way I want it, and I can handle things on my own. A store means increasing inventory, hiring people, and a million little decisions that might drive me nuts.”

“It might also mean getting a decent night’s sleep and a better work-life balance.”

She snorted. “That’s rich, coming from you.”

“But I’m nearing the finish line, Kels. I know what I’m working toward. The number of hours I can expect each week in a permanent placement, what it’ll take to maintain my license—”

“Without me,” she grumbled softly.

“No,” I said, reaching over to take her hand. “ Because of you. I’ve only made it this far because you’ve taken such amazing care of me. You’re my rock, Kelsey. The glue that’s kept me in one piece.”

“Then why are you and Jacobi pushing me so hard to move out? I don’t mind having your guys over all the time, and the group dinners are fun.”

“Because you deserve to be happy, Kelsey. Honestly and truly happy—the kind of deep fulfillment that only comes from doing what you love. Surrounded by a pack who adores you.” I gave her a self-deprecating shrug.

“I can’t give you that. Nor can I ask you to keep your wings clipped because I might have a relapse. It’s not fair to you.”

“But you keep getting hurt. How am I supposed to—”

“It’s my health, Kelsey. My responsibility.

Not yours.” Leaning forward, I held her gaze, troubled by the tears gathering in the corners of her eyes.

She had to stop putting me first. “I’m the one who has to do better.

My seizure could have probably been prevented if I’d called Chantal or taken a day off. ”

Holding up my scabbed right hand, I said with a sardonic laugh, “And I could have avoided this entirely if I’d listened to Cal and let him go after Garvey the way he wanted to.

But I’m stubborn and proud. Determined to prove myself.

To not be a bother—but turns out, that’s when I’m at my most insufferable, isn’t it? ”

“But you’re not.” Kelsey sniffled. “You… Morgan, you’ve let me live with you in luxury, rent-free, for my entire adult life. You pay for my phone, my health insurance, my car—”

“Because I want to, and I owe you. So much. None of that needs to change.”

She shook her head. “If one thing changes, it all has to change. If you’re going to start being more self-reliant, then so am I… But you’re not good with change.”

“No,” I admitted wryly, “I’m not. But I am trying. To be more open and emotionally available. And to remember that I… I don’t have to limit myself to solely being a doctor. That I’m more than my profession.”

Taking a centering breath, I admitted a long-held secret.

“You know, I’ve had the same three goals my entire life. Only three. First, win a gold medal at the Olympics on vault. That was a big fat check, wasn’t it?”

With a team gold medal and a bronze medal on floor exercise as gorgeous metallic cherries on top.

“Yeah,” Kelsey said, eyes tinged with a faint hint of pity, “but your second goal was to become an orthopedic surgeon.”

Putting on a proud expression, I sat up straighter, puffing out my chest. “I’m still a doctor, aren’t I? That’s another check.”

Giving her hand a playful squeeze before letting go, I said, “But you’ll never guess the third one. Even Jacobi’s never been able to figure it out.”

“ Au contraire , sister dear. It’s always been the most obvious.” Kelsey sat back in her chair, toying with her favorite vintage gold locket. “You’ve always dreamed of falling in love with a pack of intelligent and devoted men.”

I had to laugh. “Of course, you’d figure that out—because it’s always been your goal, too. Right?”

Kelsey gave a begrudging nod. “Yes.”

I got up, channeling a bit of Rory as I wrapped my arms around her shoulders from behind and pressed our cheeks together.

“I’m not trying to push you out, Kels. But the fact of the matter is, the more I get involved with Pack Redmond, the more scent signatures will contaminate your inventory.

And while my suite is decently soundproofed—”

“Okay, okay, I got it,” she protested, squirming as she tried to break loose.

But I held her tight.

“Jacobi and I will invest in Beaufeather’s. As much as you need, whenever you need it. But you call the shots. The same as always. Renovations, layout, everything. It’s all you.”

Kelsey abruptly gripped my arm, her voice small and unsure. “What if it fails?”

“Then you try something else—as long as it makes you happy.”

She went quiet, rubbing her fingertips against the nubby texture of the cardigan.

Just as I was about to tell her to take her time and think things over, Kelsey pressed her cheek against mine and gave a tiny nod.

“Count me in.”

“Fantastic.” After a brief but exuberant hug, I released Kelsey and went to grab my phone from the kitchen island. “Let’s tell Jacobi the good news.”

She grimaced. “Do we have to?”

I paused, phone in hand. “Did I miss something?”

“No,” she half-stammered, fussing with her locket again. “It’s just… He’s going to be insufferable, isn’t he?”

“Just a smidge.”

“A Jacobi smidge amounts to a tsunami.”

“Nothing you can’t handle,” I said, flashing a wicked grin, then hit dial and put the call on speaker.

My favorite menace answered after three rings. “Your sister’s giving me the cold shoulder. Why haven’t you convinced her yet? She listens to you—sometimes.”

Kelsey rolled her eyes and started gathering our plates.

My smile bled into my tone. “Who says I haven’t?”

“Wait, wait!” Jacobi’s exaggerated gasp of delight ricocheted off every corner of the kitchen. “Beaufeather’s is a go?”

I turned the phone in her direction and raised a brow.

“Yes,” Kelsey said, radiating muted joy. “It’s a go.”

Jacobi’s enthusiastic babbling lasted for fifteen solid minutes. I stopped trying to get a word in edgewise after seven.

The more he talked, the more my golden goddess of a sister seemed to glow.

When Kelsey finally managed to take advantage of a pause, it was to share her surprisingly well-developed vision for the space, including installing a series of test nests on the second floor that could be rented by the hour, allowing omegas to try out various configurations and design themes before committing to such a monumental purchase as a nest makeover.

I sat at the kitchen island while they talked, pretending to check my email on my tablet while I soaked in their rapid back and forth—simultaneously proud of her for taking the leap and excited to see what Beaufeather’s would grow to become in a year or two.

A roaring success, no doubt.

If only I could be so certain about my own career prospects.

Kelsey unexpectedly slid my phone across the island, displaying a new text…from Wyatt.

Desperate times call for desperate measures. Listening to your dragon rider book. Why don’t any of these people have normal names?

And with that, a tentative, rose-hued checkmark flickered to life beside lifelong goal number three.

Maybe someday, it would mature into a bright, vibrant red. Even now, despite everything, it was still my favorite color.

My lucky color.

The color of love.

***

The crowd in the Rhine Fieldhouse was on their feet chanting, “Ten, ten, ten!”

A handful of Northport gymnasts crowded around Nika, who had just completed a powerful yet poetic routine on the uneven bars, anxiously staring at the scoreboard, hoping to see a perfect score from the judges.