Page 26 of His Problem Alpha

There’s a longer pause this time. I can almost feel the person on the other end weighing their options, deciding whether to trust me. Finally:

I'll be there in an hour. How will I know you?

I send a quick description of myself, then toss the phone on the bed, my heart racing.

I’m really doing this. Going behind Alex’s back to talk to a stranger about whatever trauma he’s been hiding.

It feels like a betrayal, but also like the only option left.

If Alex is drowning in whatever this is, I'll do whatever it takes to pull him out—even if he hates me for it.

***

The coffee shop is busy with the afternoon rush, the air thick with the smell of espresso and pastries.

The hiss of the steam wand, the clatter of ceramic, the low hum of conversation—it all feels a world away from the dead silence of my apartment.

I grab a table in the corner, my leg bouncing nervously under the table as I scan the door for anyone who might be Finn.

A man enters, looking around uncertainly. He’s about Alex’s age, with sandy hair and tired, worried eyes. He spots me and approaches, his expression guarded.

“Devon?” he asks, his voice cautious.

I nod, gesturing to the empty chair across from me. “Finn?”

He sits, studying me with an intensity that makes me squirm. “So you’re Alex’s... roommate.”

The pause before “roommate” tells me he suspects we’re more than that. I don’t bother correcting him.

“Yes,” I say simply. “Thank you for meeting me.”

He sighs, running a hand through his hair. “I probably shouldn’t be here. Alex would be furious if he knew.”

“He’s already furious,” I say, my voice tight. “Or something worse than furious. He’s... gone. Completely shut down. Won’t talk, barely eats. Whatever you said to him the other day—it broke something in him.”

Finn’s face flashes with guilt. “Shit. I was afraid of that. I didn’t mean to... I thought maybe after all this time, he’d be ready to hear it.”

“Hear what?” I lean forward, my heart pounding. “What happened, Finn? Who’s Ethan?”

His eyes widen in surprise. “He told you about Ethan?”

“Not really,” I admit. “Just that he ‘got him killed.’ That’s all I know.”

Finn’s expression crumples, a deep sadness settling over his features. “God, he’s still carrying that. After all this time.” He takes a deep breath, seeming to come to a decision. “Ethan was his brother. His younger brother.”

My heart sinks. “Was?”

Finn nods, his eyes distant with memory. “Six years ago, there was an accident. Alex was at a party, drinking. He called Ethan to come pick him up instead of calling his parents or a cab. On the way to get Alex, a drunk driver hit Ethan’s car. He died instantly.”

The words hit me like a physical blow. The sounds of the coffee shop fade away. I feel suddenly cold, my hands numb where they rest on the table. “Oh my god.”

“Alex has never forgiven himself,” Finn continues, his voice soft with old grief.

“He was the responsible older brother, you know? The one who was supposed to look out for Ethan. Instead, he called him for a ride when he was too drunk to drive himself, and Ethan died because of it. At least, that’s how Alex sees it. ”

I think about Alex now—how guilt and self-loathing pour off him. How he flinches when anyone touches him. How he keeps everyone at a distance. God, it all makes sense now.

“But it wasn’t his fault,” I say, the words feeling inadequate even as they leave my mouth. “The drunk driver—”

“Of course it wasn’t his fault,” Finn agrees, his voice tight with frustration. “But try telling Alex that. He’s convinced himself that if he hadn’t called Ethan that night, his brother would still be alive. And technically, he’s right. But it was an accident. A horrible, tragic accident.”

“What did you tell him?” I ask, remembering the text that had started all this. “When you met him the other day?”

Finn’s expression shifts to one of deep regret.

“I told him something I thought might help. Something his mother told me after the funeral.” He sighs, rubbing a hand over his face.

“I told him that Ethan was happy when Alex called. That he was singing in the car on the way to pick him up, excited that his big brother needed his help.”

“Jesus,” I breathe, understanding dawning. “And that made it worse.”

Finn nods miserably. “I thought... I thought knowing Ethan’s last moments were happy ones might bring Alex some peace. Instead, it just reinforced his guilt. Now he believes his brother died because he loved him. Because he was happy to help him.”

It all makes horrible sense now. The way he keeps to himself. How he freaks out when anyone gets close. How terrified he looked when he thought I was pregnant. Why he’s pushing me away now, right when things were getting good.

“He thinks he’s cursed,” I say, the realization hitting me like a punch to the gut. “He thinks loving him is dangerous.”

“Ever since the accident, he self-destructs the second he gets close to happiness,” Finn confirms, his eyes sad. “He thinks... he thinks loving people kills them. He genuinely believes he’s dangerous to anyone he cares about.”

I feel this wave of grief for a brother I never met.

Then anger, hot and sharp, at the asshole who changed everything.

I think of Alex, carrying this burden for years.

Believing he doesn’t deserve happiness. Believing his love is toxic.

It explains everything—his brooding silence, his reluctance to form connections, the way he threw himself into helping me during my heat but then tried to pretend it meant nothing.

“He’s not pushing me away because he doesn’t care,” I say, more to myself than to Finn. “He’s pushing me away because he does care. Because he’s trying to protect me from himself.”

Finn nods, something like hope flickering in his eyes. “You really do know him, don’t you?”

“I’m trying to,” I say, my voice rough with emotion. “But he makes it so damn hard.”

“He does,” Finn agrees with a sad smile. “He always has. Even before... before Ethan. He was never an easy person to love. But he was worth it.”

“He still is,” I say fiercely, surprising myself with the conviction in my voice. “He’s worth fighting for.”

Finn studies me for a long moment, something like approval warming his expression.

“You know, I came here ready to tell you to run. To save yourself from the Alex Matthews self-destruction cycle. But now…” He shakes his head, a small smile playing at his lips.

“Look, I had to try something ,” he says, his voice raw.

“I can’t watch him waste his entire life punishing himself. Maybe you’re exactly what he needs.”

“I don’t know about that,” I say honestly. “But I know I’m not giving up on him. Not now. Not when I finally understand what he's been carrying all this time.”

“Good,” Finn says simply. “He deserves someone who won’t give up on him. God knows he’s given up on himself.”

As I walk home from the coffee shop, my mind is a storm of emotions.

I feel grief for the brother he lost. I’m angry at the drunk driver who destroyed his life.

And god, I’m so frustrated that he keeps punishing himself.

But underneath it all, a fierce, protective determination surprises me with its intensity.

He wasn’t a monster. He wasn’t even an asshole. He was a survivor standing guard at a grave, trying to push away anyone who got close enough to lay down flowers. He thought love was a weapon, and he’d spent the last six years pointing it at his own heart.

And I was standing right in the line of fire.