Page 70 of Altius (The Scent of Victory #2)

Forty-Four

Morgan

T he following week was spent keeping myself as busy as possible.

On Sunday, I took Christine out to celebrate her fellowship placement and listened as she excitedly shared her plans to relocate to Michigan.

Owen continued to join me for silent morning workouts. Then I dove into a blur of clinic appointments, rotations, and game coverage—made possible by pain pills and copious amounts of scent-canceling spray.

Wednesday’s standing date night with Alijah turned into a vent session with Reyhan over Nepalese food. The three of us shared our frustrations with Northport’s hiring practices and the job market in general.

Otherwise, I had dinner with Kelsey and Cal—always making sure to eat a passable amount of food, despite not having much of an appetite.

Evenings were spent giving Rory virtual tutoring sessions for his biology course, exchanging emails about the latest vibration therapy prototypes, poring over PheroPass data, and waiting for Wyatt to call.

All while ignoring my hormone readings. I’d made the mistake of checking them once on Monday morning and refused to risk it again.

Despite my best efforts, the headache refused to abate, and a deep-seated ache radiated throughout my body at all hours of the day. It worsened at night, when even Cal’s reassuring weight failed to provide sufficient comfort to fall asleep.

Wednesday night was the worst. It felt like ants were crawling through my veins, each screaming for me to run across the hall and throw myself at Wyatt. To sink my teeth into his neck and put us out of our misery.

Instead, I untangled myself from Cal’s embrace and slunk into my closet.

A skeptical Kip watched as I unzipped the suitcase containing my stash of gifts and contraband I’d collected from the guys.

I’d intended to grab one of the fantasy novels Wyatt had given me to commemorate the tenth anniversary of my accident before heading to the library to read myself to sleep.

But my omega had other ideas.

Cal found me a few hours later, huddled in a makeshift nest of his sweaters, wearing Alijah’s polo shirt and Wyatt’s basketball shorts over my pajamas, with Owen’s tie wrapped around my hand, clutching the book to my chest, trembling as I fought the urge to cry.

He didn’t ask what was wrong or what I was doing—because the answers were obvious.

Instead, he scooped me up, sweaters and all, carrying the entire mess back to bed, where he resettled me against his chest and read the first few chapters of the novel aloud in a deep, sleep-tinged voice, purring all the while.

An achingly sweet gesture that provided no relief.

***

“Doesn’t this feel like we’re back in college,” Wyatt murmured late Thursday night—the final day of our separation—bleary-eyed as he lay on his side, cheek buried in his pillow, two hours into a video call that neither of us wanted to end.

“Talking for ages about everything and nothing. Trying to find one more thing to say to each other.”

Curled on my side in the library nest, buried beneath two weighted blankets, I stroked Tenny’s fur. “A little. But I’m not sure I’ve ever been so…”

“Desperate to see you. Wishing my life away so that I can hold you one minute sooner.” Swallowing hard, Wyatt shifted onto his elbows and propped the phone against the wall.

Apparently, no one had ever thought to buy the man a bedframe.

He gazed at me with misty eyes. “Wondering if I can withstand the ache.”

“One more day, Wyatt. We can see each other as soon as my appointment’s over. I promise.”

“I know, but you’re right there, across the hall, and the temptation is just…too much.” He shook his head, long black hair falling forward, obscuring his expression. “One more day, I can manage. But anything longer than that… There’s this pain, constantly gnawing at me, twisting me up inside.”

Wyatt buried his head in his pillow, his muffled words so soft I almost didn’t catch them.

“It’s how I know this is real. That I’m sick.”

“We’re together, Wyatt. Which means we’re going to be all right. No matter what.” I held the phone closer. “And Chantal might have a different opinion than Cal. Maybe I just need to have one more heat, or all it would take to fix things is to spend your rut together.”

Giving a noncommittal shrug, Wyatt shifted onto his side, resting his head in his hand. “Do you think we would have been mated by now, if I hadn’t—”

“ We , Wyatt. Either we share the blame, or I take it entirely.”

“That’s not fair.”

“Then let’s agree we both screwed up and move on.

We can’t keep looking back and wondering what if.

At least, I can’t. It’s not good for my mental health.

I’ve done my time in therapy to mourn and process, making my peace with everything that changed…

” A wincing sigh slipped out. “Everything except you. Maybe that’s part of the problem. Because sometimes…”

“I can still miss you,” he confessed in a tight whisper, “even when you’re right next to me.”

Sinking my fingers into the reassuring softness of Tenny’s belly, I nodded. “If…if I really am sick, what if we got mated?”

“No,” he said firmly. “Not before your fellowship is over. I’m not going to make you give up anything else.”

“We could try filing a scent match exemption. Or I could swap with Reyhan and cover alpha men’s gymnastics—”

A ferocious snarl surprised us both.

Wyatt scurried back, shaking fingers clutching at his chest, as if trying to force the sound back from whence it came. “I’m sorry, I’m so sorry. Don’t know what the fuck that was.”

“That was your alpha, Wyatt. And it seems like it’s not fond of the idea of me working around other men.”

Wyatt picked up the phone, bringing it closer to his face, making his pinched expression and spooked eyes larger than life. “I won’t get in the way of your career, Morgan. That’s not—I’m not that kind of guy. None of us are. You know that, right? That we’re all so fucking proud of you.”

“I know, I know,” I said, trying to soothe him. “There’s never been a moment when I’ve doubted that you want the best for me, Wyatt. Ever.”

He gave a tight nod, head drifting out of view of the camera. “I think… Think I need to go.”

“I’ll text you tomorrow.”

“No, I’ll just… I’ll be waiting.” His bloodshot eyes gave me no hope that he’d be able to sleep. “Night, baby.”

The line went dead. Sinking lower, I buried my face in Tenny’s neck.

Breathing in through my nose, filling my lungs with fresh air, I tried to calm my doubtful heart.

One deep breath became ten, then twenty, then thirty…

Fuck this, I decided, kicking off the weighted blankets. Time for sleeping pills.

***

I woke up alone Friday morning, adrift in a vast bed I didn’t choose, waiting for an appointment I didn’t want, dreading words that would put my recovery in jeopardy.

Curled against my back, Tenny let out a contented mewl and pressed closer, providing sorely needed comfort on a frigid morning.

Stretched out along the top of the headboard, his customary perch since I started having regular bed partners, Kip opened one sleepy eye, yawned, and dozed back off.

Maybe the cats had the right idea.

What was the point of trying to outrun my demons this morning when they’d already caught up to me?

Despite my low mood, I still worked out, if only to quiet my mind for a few precious minutes.

Owen’s companionable silence had never been more welcome.

When we walked out of the gym, Kelsey was assembling large packing boxes at the dining room table. Must be time for her next round of themed starter nest kits to go out.

“Don’t tell me you were up all night?” I asked, pausing at the fridge to get a glass of water.

“No,” she said, almost dropping the box in her hands. “Just wanted to get a jump on things. Have that local business networking thing tonight, and a few of us might go out afterward.”

Owen gave me a parting nod and made a tactful retreat.

Taking a long sip of water, I discreetly watched him leave, admiring the solid planes of his back and toned ass before he slipped through the door.

Returning my attention to my sister, I asked, “Are you making yourself scarce because Wyatt will be here tonight?”

“No, not at all. This has been in the works for a few weeks.” Kelsey ran packing tape along the bottom seam of a box. “But if your social calendar happens to have an opening for lunch tomorrow…”

“It’s got your name on it. I’ll be fully dressed and de-scented by noon.” Giving her a brief but genuine smile, I started toward my suite. “And have fun tonight.”

Because if today’s appointment went the way I thought it would, lunch would be a major disappointment.

***

I stared at the rings on Chantal’s right hand, admiring how the amethyst and jet sparkled. How beautiful they were, despite the devastating words coming out of her mouth.

“The best course of action would be for you and Wyatt to bond during your next heat.”

Cal’s hand moved another inch higher on my leg. As if gripping my thigh was somehow more reassuring than my knee.

The somber intensity of his expression didn’t suit him.

Where had my affable pheromone wizard gone, who could heal me with a single wave of his magic wand?

Or at least inject me with something strong enough to ease the pounding in my head and knock me senseless for the rest of this appointment.

“Since we don’t know your natural heat cycle,” Chantal continued, “I think we should schedule a heat for spring break.”

“No,” Cal said, “that’s the run-up to the gymnastics conference championships. Let’s go with the last full week of April, during exams, just like last time. It works for everyone’s calendars.”

Chantal turned to her computer, almond-shaped nails clacking and rings flashing as she typed. Her mesmerizing efficiency made me feel like a fraud.

“Okay, I’ve got the dates in the system, but I need to make a few tweaks to the mating clauses. I’ll send you a draft to look over later.”

“To the both of us, please.” Cal’s thumb stroked the seam of my joggers.