Page 30 of Saddle and Scent (Saddlebrush Ridge #1)

"Of course you guys didn't," the doctor replies, and I can practically hear her rolling her eyes.

"Because you know in your damn hearts she was the Omega you guys wanted.

But enter the land of delulu matched with pride, and what do you get?

Alphas. Stupid, cocky Alphas who won't realize their mistake until it's almost too late. "

Delusion matched with pride.

The perfect summary of every Alpha I've ever met who thought they knew what was best for everyone around them.

I guess that includes the three men in this room who convinced themselves that hurting me was somehow protecting me.

"We acknowledge what we did wrong," Callum speaks up, and there's something careful in his voice, like he's trying to navigate a minefield without setting off any explosives.

Acknowledge.

Such a careful, diplomatic word.

A clinical way to discuss the wholesale destruction of four young hearts.

"What is it that you did wrong to chase her away then?" the doctor counters immediately, not giving him any room to hide behind vague admissions and generalized guilt.

The silence that follows is deafening.

I can feel the weight of unspoken truth pressing down on all of us, the thing that's been sitting in this room like a bomb waiting to detonate.

The real reason they pushed me away.

The thing I've spent ten years trying to figure out, trying to understand, trying to make sense of in the context of everything I thought I knew about them and us and love.

Callum holds his tongue, apparently unable or unwilling to voice whatever truth he's carrying.

But then Beckett's voice cuts through the silence, barely above a whisper but carrying the weight of a decade's worth of regret.

"It was for her own good."

For my own good.

Because surely that's what they told themselves.

They found a way to make their decision noble instead of cowardly.

Of course they convinced themselves that breaking my heart was somehow an act of love instead of an act of fear.

"If it was for her own good," the doctor asks, her voice deadly quiet, "would you all be this miserable ten years later?"

The question hangs in the air like an indictment.

Because they are miserable.

I can hear it in their voices, see it in the way they move around each other, smell it in the undercurrent of regret that clings to their scents like smoke.

They've been carrying this for a decade, just like I have.

The weight of what could have been, what should have been, what they destroyed in the name of protecting.

"Would an Omega be doing hard labor on the brink of a heat wave on a sanctuary ranch all by herself, with not a single Alpha to aid her?

" the doctor continues, building momentum.

"Would this town be gossiping about the new and only Omega in town who's unmated, saying it's only a matter of time for some pack to swoop in and deflower her? "

My stomach clenches at her words.

I know that's exactly what's happening.

I've felt the eyes on me, heard the whispered conversations that stop when I walk into a room.

The calculating looks from Alphas who view me as a challenge to be conquered rather than a person to be cherished.

Felt the weight of being the only unmated Omega in a town full of people who think they have opinions about what I should do with my life.

"How do you know all of this?" Wes asks, and there's genuine curiosity beneath the defensiveness in his voice.

The doctor huffs, and I can hear her shifting, probably crossing her arms or adjusting her position in that particular way medical professionals do when they're about to deliver uncomfortable truths.

"I have to know about all of these things because that's my job," she says. "To help Omegas wake up and smell the coffee and stop wasting their lives on Alphas who are either too chicken to man up and claim the Omega they love, or too selfish to let her go find someone who will."

The bluntness is refreshing.

And terrifying.

Because she's right, and her rightness forces me to confront truths I've been avoiding for years.

"An Omega only has until thirty-five before things go downhill biologically," she continues, her voice taking on the clinical tone of someone delivering medical facts.

"Do you really want her to continue waiting until some pack just comes in and she simply settles for them—not because she's happy, but because she's losing years and just has to decide on who's willing to commit? "

Thirty-five.

Nine years.

Nine years before my biology starts working against me instead of with me.

Before heat cycles become irregular, before fertility becomes a question mark, before the window for easy bonding starts to close.

Nine years to figure out if what we had was worth salvaging, or if I need to let go of the past and find someone new to build a future with.

A deadline that forces decisions instead of allowing endless postponement.

The silence stretches, thick with the weight of uncomfortable truths and ticking clocks. I can feel all three of them processing what she's said, weighing it against whatever justifications they've been carrying for the last decade.

"I rest my case," the doctor says finally, and I can hear her moving again, gathering her things with the efficient movements of someone who's said their piece and is ready to leave.

But then Callum's voice cuts through the sound of her departure preparations.

"We were threatened to leave her alone," he says, the words tumbling out in a rush like he's been holding them back for too long. "If we didn't comply, they were going to hurt her."

The world stops.

Everything— my breathing, my heartbeat, the careful pretense of sleep —everything freezes as his words sink in.

Threatened?

Someone threatened to hurt me if they didn't leave me alone.

That's why they pushed me away…?

Not because they didn't want me…not because they thought I was too much trouble?

Not due to them deciding I wasn't worth the complications of a pack bond.

Because someone made them choose between being with me and keeping me safe.

And they chose my safety.

Even though it destroyed all of us.

I try to remain still, try to keep my breathing even, but my heart is hammering so hard I'm afraid they'll hear it.

Ten years.

I've been carrying the weight of thinking they simply didn't want me enough to fight for me.

Believing I wasn't worth the effort, wasn't worth the risk, wasn't worth choosing.

Building walls and defenses against a rejection that was never actually a rejection at all.

"Elaborate," the doctor says, her voice sharp with professional interest and personal concern.

Yes.

Please elaborate.

Because I need to understand.

I need to know who and why and how this secret has been sitting between us like a landmine for a decade.

"We don't know who in town sent the threats," Callum continues, his voice heavy with old frustration and fear. "They were anonymous, but specific. Details about her schedule, about places she went, about things only someone watching her closely would know."

Someone was watching me.

When I was sixteen and thought the world was safe because I had three protectors who would never let anything bad happen to me. Someone was paying enough attention to know my routines, my habits, my vulnerabilities.

The thought makes my skin crawl.

"The last straw was when she almost drowned," he says, and I can hear the pain in his voice even through my shock.

The drowning.

I remember the drowning.

Sort of.

The details have always been fuzzy, dreamlike, more impression than clear memory.

I'd fallen through thin ice at the quarry during what was supposed to be a harmless winter walk.

The boys had pulled me out, gotten me to safety, but I'd always assumed it was just an accident.

Bad luck and bad timing and the kind of thing that happens when teenagers think they're invincible.

"She knows that almost happened," the doctor says carefully. "But it was when you were younger, wasn't it? An accident?"

That's what I thought.

Or at least what everyone told me.

An accident that could have happened to anyone.

"It was obviously intentional," Callum says, and the words hit me like a physical blow. "Juniper doesn't remember the incident clearly—head trauma from hitting the ice—but we found evidence afterward. The ice had been deliberately weakened in the exact spot where she liked to sit and think."

Deliberately weakened.

Someone tried to kill me?

When I was sixteen years old, someone in this town tried to murder me, and I never knew.

I never knew because the boys who saved me decided to carry that knowledge alone.

Decided to protect me from the truth by sacrificing everything we had.

"We thought pushing her away would keep her safe," Callum continues, his voice breaking slightly. "We didn't know it would mean she'd literally leave and never come back. We thought... we thought if we could just get her to maintain some distance until we figured out who was threatening her..."

They thought they were saving me…that breaking my heart was the price of keeping me alive.

The room falls silent as his revelation settles over us like a heavy blanket.

The truth finally spoken aloud after a decade of carrying it alone.

And I don't know how to feel about any of it.

Relief that they never stopped wanting me.

Rage that they made that choice without telling me.

Terror that someone in this town wanted me dead badly enough to orchestrate an elaborate murder attempt.

Heartbreak that we lost ten years to fear and miscommunication and the kind of protective instincts that destroy the thing they're trying to save.

The worst part is understanding, finally, why they did what they did.

Because if someone I loved was being threatened…if someone was trying to hurt them…I would probably make the same choice.

I would probably choose their safety over my own happiness.

I would probably break my own heart if it meant keeping theirs beating.

But that doesn't make it right.

And it doesn't make the last ten years hurt any less.

It just makes everything more complicated.

Heartbreaking.

Impossible to navigate.

Because how do you rebuild something that was destroyed by love instead of indifference?

How do you forgive a choice that was made from the right intentions but with the wrong methods?

To move forward when the past is finally making sense but the future is more uncertain than ever?

How do you trust again when the people you trusted most kept the most important secret of all?

I don't know.

I don't know anything anymore.

Except that I'm tired of pretending to be asleep.

Tired of listening to my life being discussed like I'm not here.

Exhausted of being protected from truths I have a right to know.

Drained of carrying pain that was never supposed to be mine alone.

It's time to wake up.

It's time to face whatever comes next.

Even if it breaks me all over again.