Page 19

Chapter Nineteen

L ights dance behind my eyelids. A loud bleeping stabs into my brain, ratcheting the headache I already have to a ten.

Every part of my body hurts. I don’t want to be here anymore.

“Sweetheart, you need to sit up,” my dad says gently beside me. “Until you eat on your own, we won’t be able to leave the hospital.”

It’s been days since the accident, and I don’t feel any better today than I did right after it. My broken leg, bruised ribs, and concussion are bad enough, but worst of all, they put me in a medically induced coma to get through my designation reveal. I got into the car as a child and left an omega. A thirteen-year-old omega with all the instincts and none of the control.

Nothing is right. Nothing is the way it’s supposed to be.

“Posie,” he says with a bit more force. “Sit up.”

With an angry hiss, I open my eyes, taking in the bruises dotting my father’s face. He’s nearly healed, and here I am, just as messed up as I was the day it happened. Frustration rolls off him in waves, slapping against my new omega instincts, and I quail at the harshness.

My mom, seeing my eyes open, rushes over to help, fussing at every twitch I make. Everything is overwhelming. The world is too bright, and I’m more drained than I’ve ever been. All I want is a dark space and a pile of blankets, but I can barely go to the bathroom by myself.

As soon as I’m seated, Papa comes over to my side, running a hand down my greasy hair. Gosh, I need a shower.

“Posie girl. The doctors are telling us that your vitals all look strong. Your presentation has officially passed, and your concussion and leg just need some time to heal. Don’t you want to go home?” he asks, the dark circles creating rings around his eyes.

All my parents got out of the crash with minor scrapes and bruises. Owen broke two fingers and needed some stitches. Miller also needed some stitches and had to have a lot of glass removed from his hands and knees. I ended up with the brunt of the injuries. Other than….

Tears prickle at the back of my eyes just thinking about them, and I sniffle.

The door bangs open, the sound cracking like a shotgun blast through the quiet room. I wince and flinch from the painful sound, unable to stop the true omega whine that jumps from my throat.

“Are we ready to go?” Owen asks, waltzing in with Miller trailing behind him, carrying a small pink bakery bag. Owen’s lips twist into a frown when he sees me still in the hospital bed, but it’s Miller who draws my attention. His eyes are bloodshot, misery etched on every line of his body. His knuckles are white from clasping the bag, and his nostrils flare as soon as he enters the room.

“We aren’t,” Dad replies, sighing in annoyance. Everyone in this room is mad at me, and my stomach churns, making bile rush into my throat. “It’s looking like today may not be the day.”

His admission prompts another grimace from my brother and his best friend.

“Dude. It’s not that freaking hard,” Owen complains. “Just eat a freaking meal and we can stop coming to this shitty place.”

Miller steps forward but doesn’t get too close before hurling the bag onto my lap.

“It’s a muffin,” he explains, and the weight of everyone’s irritation bears down on my shoulders. With shaking hands, I open the bag and spot the double-chocolate monstrosity. My favorite; second only to churros. But I still have no appetite. The concussion has stolen my sense of smell, and the anosmia makes food taste like dirt.

The pretty pastry just makes me sad. I won’t be able to taste it, so I shove it aside and curl up under my blankets. The move triggers Miller, and his snarl makes me quake.

“Fucking hell, Posie. Stop acting like such a brat. Eat the damn food. We know you can’t smell. Get. Over. It. You need to eat or you’ll die. Haven’t enough people died?” Miller shouts, leaping forward to shove the bag into my hands again. Anger shines in his eyes, the loathing piercing me to the core.

His voice trembles and I hear the unspoken message… his parents died because of me. I killed them. It’s my fault. Because I was being so self-absorbed about wh at I was wearing. And now I’m bringing everyone pain once again by not listening and dragging my feet.

“Eat. Now. Omega.” He releases an Alpha bark that makes my body rigid. Alpha demands, and omega must obey.

My dad shoves him back, pushing Miller out the door with Owen hot on his heels, but I hear him loud and clear.

“I can’t fucking deal with this.” Miller’s voice echoes down the hallway, his rage a beast I can’t ignore. It burrows into my very soul.

With an agonizing breath, I unwrap the food and take a bite. As predicted, it tastes like nothing, but I chew a few times before choking it down. Determination settles in my belly.

I won’t cause more harm.

I won’t make others sad.

I won’t be the reason another person gets hurt…

“That’s what you said… that day…” Steam from my chicken swirls in front of me, my eyes following the plume as it disappears into thin air. Anxiety churns in my gut, and I freeze, finding it hard to breathe as I wait for Miller’s reaction. And condemnation.

Had he forgotten? The day I went from his best friend’s little sister to a murderous, selfish omega?

This strange attraction, the pull between us, needed to end at some point. Having his hands on me has been a fantasy come to life, but he was never mine to keep. Though my omega desperately disagrees.

Sheesh, hussy.

“What the fuck, Puff?” he growls, grabbing my seat and spinning it to face him. The glasses on the table rattle, and for a second I worry the whole thing’s going to topple over, but it pales in the face of his fury. “That’s not what happened.”

His chest heaves as though he’s just run a marathon, and the pulse at his temples beats hard enough to bulge. White teeth flash, and when his hands come up to run down my arms I flinch, expecting pain, but his touch is the opposite.

Gentle. Reverent .

My tongue sticks to the roof of my mouth. Sniffing the air, I try to catch Miller’s scent to understand his emotional state, but as always, nothing comes. Fortunately, he doesn’t hold back.

“The only person I’ve ever blamed for my parents’ death is that piece of shit who was driving drunk. Lenny. He got wasted in the middle of the afternoon and somehow didn’t see a huge ass limo. He got what he deserved…” The darkness in his voice makes me tremble, and I wonder what happened to the man. “But never you.”

“It was my fault, though,” I argue, my voice small and quaking. “I was so silly. Worried about how I would look on television. If I had just hurried up, we wouldn’t have been on the road with him.”

Miller brings his hands to my face, tilting my chin gently so I have no choice but to look straight at him as I explain. The pain I try so hard to keep in its box pierces my heart, and the wet slide of a single tear trickles down my cheek .

I miss them so much. I can’t even imagine how he gets through every day without his mom and dad.

“And if I hadn’t pushed the driver to take a different route, we wouldn’t have been there either. Or if I had looked for them sooner in the wreckage, they might still be alive.” His voice breaks, and he presses his head into his hands. I lean forward, sliding my arms under his, flattening myself against him.

“You couldn’t have known. You would never put them in danger. It’s not your fault,” I whimper, not wanting to bring attention to us. The thought that he caused any of this is simply preposterous. No one loved those two more than Miller. He thought the sun rose and set over his parents—the perfect son who brought them nothing but pride and adoration.

Miller crushes me against his muscular chest, stuffing his face into the crook of my neck and taking deep breaths. The sensation makes me preen—it’s almost like he needs me. Like my scent anchors him.

“And it’s not yours either. Never yours. I need you to forgive yourself, sweet girl. For me. God, they loved you so fucking much. You were like the daughter they couldn’t have. It would break them to know you’ve been beating yourself up about this. They would be so damn proud of the amazing woman you’ve become,” he promises fiercely. The torrent of tears I’ve been holding at bay for so long spill over my lashes, trailing down my cheeks to drop onto his shirt and leave splatters on the expensive material. “That day, I only ripped into you because I was so fucking scared. I couldn’t watch another person I love disappear.”

Love?

“But I deserved it,” I whisper, my voice barely audible, but he hears me anyway.

“No. You didn’t. Please forgive me, Puff. I never knew you felt that way. I would have …”

A soft cough comes from behind Miller’s sturdy back, causing me to jump and pull away. A small woman with long, shiny blonde hair stands there beaming at us, completely oblivious to the heavy conversation.

She extends her hand to Miller, and he looks at it like a bug.

“Can I help you?” he asks through gritted teeth, sitting up but keeping one hand on my knee.

“Hi. I’m Suzy. I saw you sitting here with your sister and wanted to come over and say hi,” she gushes, her eyes flitting to me before lowering her voice. “I wanted to see if you would sign your baseball card for me. My dad is your biggest fan.”

He’s not the only one.

Suzy continues to push her breasts out, stepping too close, and I can’t stop the growl that comes from me. Absolutely freaking not. Blondie grins, excited by my challenge, and her smile turns nasty.

“I’m out with my omega,” Miller retorts, his eyes lighting up with adoration at my show of aggression. “If your father wants something signed, please have him come to an event.”

He turns away, clearly dismissing her. She coughs a few more times until she’s practically choking.

“There’s probably water on your table,” I say pointedly, and she stomps off.

“I think she wanted more than your signature,” I tease, stabbing my fork into my pasta. He chuckles and shakes his head before eating his meal with relish. Something within me knits back together, and a fraction of the guilt I’ve been carrying around for the last seven years lifts from my shoulders.

Something about Miller’s sudden desire for me still seems a bit odd, but the reason eludes me, so I set it aside to enjoy the rest of dinner with the hottest man alive.

The girls are never going to believe this.