Page 66 of Heat Hesitation

"So, what's all this bullshit about," Ophelia sighs, pulling her legs from my lap and tucking them beneath her legs. I suppose giving her a heads up might have made her act a little less like a bratty teenager, but I'm not about to chastise her after everything the OFA has done.

Fletcher has no such qualms. "Goodness, dear, had you joined the OFA, perhaps you'd have learned some manners."

"And if I'd joined the OFA, I'd probably have endured statutory rape and an invisible chain around my neck while I cooked and cleaned for a random pack you shuffled me off with before I turned eighteen."

"Or you'd have met your pack sooner. The Constantines have been paying members of the OFA, accepted into our courting program for, what was it, Sullivan? Seven years now? You'd have found your scent-match that much sooner, rather than cavorting with criminals and dressing like a hooker at a strip club."

"How do you know about that?" She sits a little taller on the couch. Rubens and I glance at each other, listening while the two women volley back and forth. "Whatever, it doesn't matter. Where I work, how I dress, and what happens between me and my pack is none of your business. Don't act like you deserve any credit in our bonding. Besides, if I remember correctly," Ophelia taps her finger on her chin, looking up as if she's trying to recall some distant memory, "You have a history of ruining the lives of young omegas who are scent-matched. Isn't that right?"

If I thought Fletcher would flinch or cower, I'd be wrong. I almost interrupt, but this conversation has long since needed to be hashed out. So, instead, I offer my silent support to Ophelia, bringing my hand to her back, rubbing circles at the base of her spine.

"Oh, please. I may have let you get away with that when you were sixteen, but you're an adult now. I'm sorry about what happened to Alma. I've never had more regret over anything in my entire life than what the Olcenes got away with, taking her outback like they did. But they were only nineteen themselves, had met their scent-match, and consensually mated with her. She knew the consequences of her actions, not telling them to wait. She was not forced."

Ophelia gasps. Honestly, I'm right there with her. I can't believe Fletcher is defending them. They may have only been a couple of years older than Alma, but still. There were four of them, and they're alphas.

"I spoke with Alma myself. She wasn't upset about the mating, she was upset because they…" Fletcher has the decency to pause, to look away. Her hands shake slightly as she pours a cup of tea, busying her hands to get the words out. "What happened was wrong. They've been banned from the OFA, from taking another omega home. Across the country, in fact. Their names are not allowed on any registry, heat clinic or omega-match making program."

That, I didn't know. It explains why they show up to events but never leave with anyone. But then I remember what Jackson said about taking omegas at heat clinics. Maybe it was bullshit, false bragging. I wouldn't put it past them. "Why are they still allowed to attend events?" I ask.

"Because they pay their fees," she waves her hand in the air dismissively. "Even knowing it's over for them, that I will never allow them to court someone from this academy. I think it's their way of trying to… make up for what they did."

"Nothing can make up for what they did!"

Fletcher looks at Ophelia, softening just a bit. "You're right. And I'm telling you, I know what they did was wrong. But you need to understand, Ophelia, you and Alma, you were different people. You wanted nothing to do with packs at that age. You wanted to run around setting off firecrackers with that Red friend of yours, Alma's boyfriend. You wanted to play in the dirt and steal soda cans from the corner store. Alma wanted nothing to do with that. She…"

A look of comprehension passes Ophelia's face. Pieces of her life clicking into places. Memories of her sister. She had a very particular view of Alma, and it's been unchanged all these years. Ironclad in her belief that Alma was a weak, impressionable young omega and nothing more. That she, Ophelia, was the strong one.

"She what?" Ophelia whispers.

"She wanted more. Different. She said she liked Red because all the other girls liked him, not because she wanted to bond with him. She didn't like the pack he was forming. She wanted out of South Loop. She saw the Olcenes and mated with them immediately because she wanted to secure the relationship. She told me so herself. She just never anticipated their reaction. Those pompous, good for nothing…" Fletcher trails off, rolling her eyes, taking a dainty sip from her teacup.

"You expect me to believe Alma—what? Asked for it?"

"You can believe what you'd like, my dear. But I'm telling you, what happened that night, as awful and unsanctioned their behavior was, mating in the pool house like that, their impulsive reactions toward each, it was consensual. It's not how omegas are taught to behave, nor alphas. I was angry with the lot of them. Once the Olcenes realized the depth of their ineptitude, once she walked away from them with your parents… Jackson told me later he felt like his soul was being torn away. The idiot thought he could just apologize for dismissing her just because she was poor."

Ophelia looks down at her hands, which fidget incessantly in her lap. I reach out and place mine over hers, stilling them. She doesn't look up but leans toward me, so I side-hug her, pulling her close.

"Alma was so upset."

"Of course she was. Look, I'm not trying to convince you what happened wasn't wrong. It was. But she wasn't innocent either. This was the life she wanted, even if it's not something you could understand at the time."

"And after?"

"After?" Fletcher repeats.

A little of Ophelia's confidence returns. She leans forward and pours herself a cup of tea—no, she pours it for me. I'm surprised when she places it in front of me, pouring a second cup for herself.

I lean forward and kiss her temple like I did outside, but this time… damn, the fucking sun must be shining on me because she smiles. I've never been more relieved to have Fletcher on the receiving end of a scowl because it's no longer directed at me.

"Yeah, Fletcher, after. You know, when the Olcenes followed my parents home and they… what, got in a car wreck? You told me my dad had been drinking. He didn't drink!"

"He had had a few drinks—"

"That's not possible. He was a recovering alcoholic. He hadn't drank in years. The police showed up, and then you were there, and everyone kept talking over me, claiming he was drunk driving."

Fletcher's expression softens again, making her naturally stern, severe appearance slightly more affable. "Ophelia… I don't know if he was drunk. Parents keep things from their children, and I am so sorry because I don't want to taint your memory of him. But witnesses saw him have a few drinks at the gala. When I found out what happened, I immediately went to check on you. I knew you'd be alone. The police were already with you, and they questioned me and asked what happened. I told them, and yes, your father had had a couple of drinks at the event, nothing more. He wasn't belligerent or drunk, as far as anyone could tell, but I told them the truth. I can't say what caused the accident, but I didn't lie to the police."

"Everyone acted like that was the whole story. That my parents got drunk, and Alma acted like a whore. That's the fucking legacy the OFA left for my family."

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