Page 22 of Two For the Show (Trapped On The Tightrope Duet #2)

“Good, because I’m not going to.” I pull a box of marshmallow cereal and two bowls from my cabinet, then grab milk from the fridge. Someone stocked my fridge and pantry while I was on my date with Dario. “Let’s have cereal?”

Things are awkward as we crunch and slurp on the cereal with the incomplete puzzle strewn between us.

I pick up a piece and slot it into its spot. Jude watches and slowly mirrors my movement. As we eat, we place pieces into the puzzle between us without speaking.

What do I say to this man who made it clear from the moment I met him that he doesn’t want me here? Sure, he’s warmed up lately, but that doesn’t erase the fact that he didn’t want me here.

And that I kind of tricked him.

I mean, sure, he never asked, but I’m self-aware enough to recognize that I concealed important information.

We finish our cereal, and before I can gather our bowls and put everything away, he’s on his feet, doing it for me. I excuse myself to the bathroom and stare at myself in the low lighting.

I’m looking healthier than I have in a while, my cheeks rounding out again, and the bags under my eyes almost gone.

I feel better, too. I know that the pheromone infusion, which is what I’m calling masturbating with Jude’s cum because otherwise I feel like a creep, combined with my cuddle session with Matteo and Quinton last night, is the reason for that.

For a moment, the woman I was before Rich superimposes on my image in the mirror.

Could I be her again?

As much as I wish I could, I know that won’t be possible.

Abuse changes you.

It warps your sense of self until you barely recognize the person staring at you through the mirror.

Part of you is who you needed to be to please them, to protect yourself, and the other part hates you for it. For capitulating to their demands at all.

Since I left them, the part that wanted to please them has been overtaken by the part that hates me, leaving behind guilt for letting it get that bad.

I should’ve known better. Should have seen the signs.

Isn’t that what they all say ?

I guess they isn’t the right term anymore, is it?

Isn’t that what we all say? We blame ourselves for the actions of weak Alphas.

Strong Alphas don’t need to assert their control over an Omega to make them stay. A strong Alpha loves their Omega so fiercely that there is never a thought of leaving.

What does a strong Omega do?

A strong Omega gets out.

A strong Omega takes care of themself.

And if they can’t, they let someone help them do it.

It has taken me an embarrassing amount of time to come to terms with the fact that it’s okay to admit weakness. It’s okay to ask for help.

I don’t even realize I’m crying until my eyes meet Jude’s in the mirror behind me.

“You were whining,” he says softly, not breaking our contact. “I was worried you were sick.”

“No,” I reply, taking a step back so I connect with his front. “Just thinking about how I got myself into this mess.”

“You trusted someone who was supposed to love you.” He lifts his hand, like he wants to stroke my hair, and then drops it.

I lean into him and rub my head against his chest. He takes that as the invitation it was and gently strokes me.

“We grow up seeing media that says a scent match is the greatest thing that could ever happen to us. It’s everything we could ever need, our perfect match.

The prince Omega meets the leader of the rival kingdom, and in one moment in each other’s presence, they give up the generational battle that had been raging. ”

He takes a deep breath, and I watch as his eyes drift closed.

“My sister is being abused by her scent matches. She won’t say it, of course, and I believe that she thinks it’s okay, or she has to put up with it because of who they are to her, but some part of me saw the ghosts that haunt her following you around.

I never believed your story of why you were here. And then that night, with the clowns…”

I grab his hand and pull it to my chest, letting him feel my heartbeat, know that I’m okay, that I’m with him now. He sighs, his eyes downcast. “I failed you. I continuously failed you. Our pack isn’t even a pack yet, not really, and I feel like I’m not cut out to lead it.”

The jerking of the trailer has him falling forward, bracing himself on the sink so he doesn’t crush me. I can feel the softness of his body pressing against my back, his arms caging me in, and he dips his head and buries his face in my hair.

“I can’t save my sister. I’ve tried to talk to her about it over the years, and our parents have attempted to intervene, but nothing can make her leave because the magic of the scent match is pushed on us from the moment we’re born. But magic isn’t enough. I think you know that better than anyone.”

Don’t I ever.

“When I found you on the grass, my heart restarted. Like it had been skipping a beat since the moment I discovered you missing, and I didn’t even notice.”

“Were you the first to figure out I left?” I’ve never asked them about that day. I told them what I went through, my time away from them, and they talked about ferreting out the clowns, but nothing more than that.

He sighs into my hair before wrapping his arms around my middle.

“Me and Quinton. I’m sorry to admit that I didn’t consider that you had a good reason to leave at first.” Having him this close, his scent swirling around me, has my knees a little weak.

I can’t help but relax into his hold. “But Quinton found your cell phone, and you had taken your nest with you. It was obvious after that. ”

“I won’t do it again,” I promise. “And not only because of the FOS.”

He takes a few steps backward into my room, sitting us down on my bed. I wiggle and get comfortable in his lap.

A man like Jude has the potential to be overwhelming and threatening. He’s large, with hands like trash can lids, broad shoulders, a big belly, and strong arms. But I feel safe in his arms. As long as I’m wrapped in his embrace, I truly believe nothing can touch me.

The hum of the road beneath us has my body melting, and eventually Jude shuffles back, lying us down together. I roll over on my side, facing him as I prop myself up on my elbow.

And then the trailer goes over a pothole, and I’m jostled forward, falling into Jude Oliver.