Page 55 of Pack Choice

“No. Not since I was a kid.”

“Circuits in the living room.”

I shift from one foot to the other. “Occasionally.”

She laughs.

“But do you ever go out, partying, picking up girls,” she tilts her head, “or boys?”

“I used to be in the army, Omega. I did a lot of partying back then.”

“But not now?”

“No, my partying days are over.”

She frowns. “Well, that’s sad.”

“I’m not unhappy.”

She considers my face again as if judging for herself whether that’s true. Is it? I’m not as sad as I used to be. That all-consuming grief doesn’t grip me in a chokehold like it used to. Now it’s just a constant ache, always there. I’m so used to it, it’s become normal. Only, now I think about it, that ache has been less intense, less painful, in the days I’ve spent in her company. Which is a dangerous thing.

“You’re not unhappy,” she says, “but are you happy?”

“Are you?”

She touches the necklace around her neck, playing with the chain in her fingers. “What makes you ask that?”

“Just … this impression I’ve got sometimes.”

She rolls her eyes. “Because, of course, omegas should be giggling and smiling all the time, if not that then moaning in pleasure.”

I blow out air slowly through my teeth. What I’d give to make this one moan in pleasure.

“That’s not what I’m saying,” I tell her. “But I’ve seen you, Molly. I’ve seen the look in your eyes sometimes when you don’t know anyone’s looking.”

She opens her mouth, then closes it. She drops her gaze and peers at the floor.

“My mom died … a few months ago.”

“I’m sorry,” I say, wanting to step forward and wrap her in my arms. I knew there was something, this growing sensation the longer I’ve watched her. I wanted to know so I could fix it, mend it, make it better for her. But this, this I can’t.

The only way I can help is to let her talk.

“It wasn’t unexpected. She’d been ill for a long time and, if anything, it happened in the best way it could – at home, in her own bed, surrounded by her family. I’d been helping to care for her … for a long time … but …”

“It feels like there’s this hole in your life?”

She glances up at me. “Yes, a hole, right here in my heart.” She rests her hand on her chest. “But it isn’t just that I miss her … I’m … I’m lost now she’s gone. I had a purpose, caring for her. Now that’s gone. I’m not the same girl I was before she got sick. I’m not the same girl who was caring for her. I’m this girl who lost her mom and … I have to work out who Molly Stormgate is.”

“I think Molly Stormgate is pretty fantastic.”

She smiles at my compliment. Something genuine that causes a dimple to form in one of her cheeks.

“Yes, but what is she?”

I frown, unsure what she means. She’s the prettiest, craziest little omega I’ve met. However, I don’t think that’s the answer she is searching for.

“That’s why I wanted the job. To see if I could find my thing. To see if I could feel normal.” She points at me. “I mean you have your thing.”