Page 34 of Two For the Show (Trapped On The Tightrope Duet #2)

Holy shit.

My hand is shaking as I hold the phone, scrolling through the text messages that it took Dexter over a month to write. The timestamps are all over the place, with some in the middle of the night and others during the day. Five messages in a row, then nothing for two days.

It couldn’t have been easy for him to write. To relive.

I’m acutely aware of his presence next to me. I don’t know how he wants me to react. Should I ignore the revelation and continue with our evening? That seems impossible to do. Like, “Hey, you spilled your guts out on a screen for me, let’s eat ice cream and watch reality TV.”

That doesn’t feel like the right path.

Can we talk about this? Process it together?

When I look up and see the tears in his eyes, the way he chews on his bottom lip, and wrings his hands, I can’t hold myself back from taking care of him.

“Alpha,” I murmur, wrapping my arms around him. He’s bigger and stronger than I am, but I haul him into my lap all the same, burying my face into the crook of his neck.

He smells rotten. The usually tart sweetness of his caramel apple scent has completely transformed with his grief into something nearly unrecognizable. I hate it. I hate knowing that he’s hurting like this.

I purr, forcing the sound out of my chest to calm him, the only way I know how.

As his Omega.

Maybe that’s the last thing he wants from me. But I can’t ignore my instincts.

He relaxes into my arms, resting his face against the side of my head. I can feel his hot tears, the way his body shakes.

I don’t say anything.

What can I say? There are no words that will make what he went through okay. He witnessed something awful and has been carrying it with him since.

“Do you think he was in Storm?” Dexter asks quietly after several minutes.

“I couldn’t tell you,” I respond, rubbing small circles on his back. “It’s so rare that studies on it are slim.”

“Why is it so rare?”

I try to remember the research papers I read on it, the one time I treated it in the ER. “Because most can come out of it with attention from their scent matched Alphas. It rarely ever gets to the point of danger because Alpha instincts respond to the increased need and take over.”

He adjusts slightly on my lap but doesn’t crawl off. He wraps his arms around my shoulders and pulls himself closer. “I don’t know if my parents were scent matches. I was a kid and never asked. But if they were, Dad would have calmed down, right?”

I hum and stroke his blond hair gently. “Maybe. He only had one Alpha. It may not have been enough pheromones to pull him out of it if he was already in Storm when she arrived.”

Part of me aches for his father. The idea that he begged for another Alpha and was denied doesn’t sit right with me.

Not to say what he did was okay. It’s not at all. But a single Alpha, when you have two kids and have to split attention during heat and pre-heat, would leave an Omega on their own for some time.

Which would be painful and traumatizing.

But I don’t say that to Dexter. What good would it do? Nothing will change the outcome of the situation. It won’t make his trauma easier to process.

“Have you told Dario you visited your father in prison?” I ask after an extended pause.

He shakes his head. “No. I wasn’t sure how he’d react. He would’ve at least wanted to come with me, and I felt like it was something I needed to do on my own. I was tired of being so afraid of being around Omegas. As you saw, it didn’t help very much.”

“You’ll never understand it, Dex. If I were you, I’d probably fixate on it to an unhealthy degree, too, unable to let it go.

But even if you fully understand Storm, know exactly what causes it and why, it will never change the outcome.

It won’t bring your mom back, and it won’t make what your dad did okay.

” He whimpers, and I kick up my purr again.

“I understand why you are distrustful of Omegas. Because I can’t promise I’ll never go into Storm.

It’s not something I can control, obviously.

However, I can promise you that if I start to feel off or on edge in a worrisome way, I’ll let you know.

I won’t stew in it. I’ll let you and the others, as my scent matches, calm me down. ”

“What if it comes on without warning? ”

That’s the big fear, right? That I’ll snap without warning and be unable to control myself.

“We can make a plan. Lock me in a trailer until I come out of it. Restrain me. Whatever it takes.”

I mean it, too. I don’t want to hurt any of them. I don’t want to fall victim to a Storm.

I won’t be the cause of more trauma for any of them if I can help it.

“Okay,” he says softly.

“Okay?”

“Yeah. Okay. Let’s make a plan with the others. I think that’ll help me feel better.” He shifts awkwardly and then climbs off my lap. “Thank you, Alex.”

I reach out and take one of his hands in mine. “For what?”

“For understanding. For not judging me for not being able to say it out loud.” He runs his hands through his hair before throwing his head onto the back of my couch.

“I knew I had to tell you. That we couldn’t move forward with a relationship without this being out in the open, but I thought, if you knew how broken I am, how damaged and messed up, you wouldn’t want me. You’d see me differently.”

“Dexter, respectfully, that’s stupid.”

He chokes on a laugh. “I’m sorry?”

“Why would you think, knowing why I’m here, what I’m running from, that I would begrudge you your own traumatic back story?”

“But it’s different.”

“How? How is it any different?” I take a deep breath, knowing that Dexter will never feel on even footing with me if I don’t give him a piece of me the way he did. “I probably could have left the guys a lot sooner,” I say quietly .

“What do you mean?”

“I mean, I probably could have called my parents. Told them what was happening, begged them for help.”

Looks like I’m going to show Dexter my greatest shame.

“Why didn’t you?”

“Honestly? I don’t know. I worried they wouldn’t believe me.

That they would tell me I made my bed and I needed to lie in it.

” I snort and shake my head. “They wouldn’t, of course.

They have never shown any tendencies that they wouldn’t believe me.

They love me. They’re good, level-headed people.

I’m sure they would’ve come and got me.” I pull my knees to my chest and close my eyes, not wanting to see if there is any judgment in his expression.

“But the slight fear that they would leave me there kept me from calling them. The shame that I got myself into that situation made me fearful of asking anyone for help. It’s hard not to blame myself for not seeing the signs earlier. ”

When I look up and see the kindness in his eyes, it loosens something in my chest. Now that I’m talking, I find it hard to stop.

“Part of me was hopeful he’d change. I told myself that Rich was a good Alpha before Tripp and Greg came around. If I could get them to leave, he and I could go back to being happy. That’s stupid, right?”

“No,” Dexter says quietly. “You want to believe the best in the people you love. I understand that more than most. I’ve tried to rationalize what Dad did thousands of times. It’s why I went to see him. I thought maybe he’d tell me everything I needed to forgive him.”

“We’re quite the pair, aren’t we?” I choke out a laugh.

“A matched set. Like salt and pepper shakers.”

“Dibs on being the pepper. ”

Dexter laughs, a hearty, free sound that I’m not sure I’ve ever heard from him. He swipes the melting ice cream from the table and hands me one of the spoons that were resting on top of it. “We should eat this before it turns into a milkshake.”

I recognize the ice cream for what it is.

A peace offering.

A metaphorical breaking of bread.

Something has changed between Dexter Reynolds and me today. Something profound.

As I snuggle into his side and restart the season of Knot What You Expected , I feel like the last puzzle piece of my pack has been slotted.

“Hey, Dexter?” I say quietly.

“Yeah?”

“Can I kiss you?”

He doesn’t answer, but he dips his head and brushes his lips against mine. They’re cold and sweet from the ice cream, and so gentle.

It’s not fiery and rough. Not something that is done as a precursor to something more.

This kiss is a promise.

From him to me that he’ll be there. That he trusts me.

And from me to him, that I’ll accept him as he is.

It’s sweet, it’s passionate, and it’s everything I needed from my Alpha.