Page 16 of The Gamma's Second Chance

Yesterday evening, after Maddie gave me a tour of the pack and introduced me to Beta Reid and Delta Sebastian, I had dinner with Alpha Wesley and Luna Haven in the house he built for her as a wedding gift. And by the time I returned to Nolan’s little white two-story farmhouse, he’d locked himself in his room for the night. So tonight is my first official night in his house with him as his unexpected roommate.

Housemate.

Whatever.

And the silence isn’t just deafening. It’s pressing. Pushing through it is like wading through knee-deep swamp water in the pouring rain while fully dressed with weights on your ankles and all your prized possessions in a small boat pulled behind you. It’s stifling, like a hot, humid summer day where the air is too heavy, and you can’t walk outside without feeling like you’ve stepped into a sauna. It reverberates through my body like the thumping of a much-too-loud subwoofer, ringing in my eardrums and pulsing through my veins.

I shudder for the umpteenth time as I turn the page in my book and sip my wine, shivering against an unbidden chill running through my body. I swear it’s caused by the unnatural silence. Even on our peaceful, isolated, magically protected island, it’s neverthissilent. There’s always the lull of the waves, the chirping of the birds, or the whispering of the breeze. There’s always someone humming, singing, or young acolytes giggling.

I could break the silence. I could go into the living room with him. Try to make small talk. Get to know him. But something tells me he would rebuke any gestures of kindness I make towards him. He’s perpetually grumpy. And while that may be off-putting for some, it just heightens my curiosity about him.

Why? Why is he like that? Why does he guard himself so? I want to find out, and I want to chip away at the armor and find all the ways to make him crack and show me the Nolan underneath.

“How do you like your coffee?”

I snap my head up from my book and peek around the daisies I placed in the middle of the dining room table this afternoon. Nolan stands in the archway, his words bringing an abrupt end to the silence we’ve existed in since returning to his house after Haven’s rehearsal.

Thank the Goddess.

“Pardon?”

He clears his throat. “I should have asked you this morning. I’m sorry. I was being a—”

“An asshole?”

“A dickhead,” he says, rubbing the back of his neck as he plops down in the chair across from me and slides the vase of daisies to the side to see me better. “So, I was wondering what you liked? Haven and I usually stop by Brewed Awakenings on our way to her rehearsals as part of our routine. I’ll make sure I save your order on my phone so it gets sent to them with ours.”

“Thanks,” I say, closing my book. “I like my coffee with a little sugar and a splash of cream.”

He nods and crosses his arms, leaning back in the chair, his body still holding the tension that’s been there since this morning, since I asked him about the ring on the table. His focus is on the vase of daisies, but mine is on the spot on the table where that ring sat.

I wonder what he did with it. I wonder why it struck such a nerve in him.

I wonder if he’s thinking about it, too. If he’s thinking about her.

Does he love her?

Nolan’s head pivots from the daisies on the table to the daisies on the counter and then back to me. His brow furrows more with each turn of his head until that scowl is directed at me. And even though he’s leaning back in his chair, even though he gives off the semblance of relaxation, his muscles are taut with tension and irritation.

“We should probably come up with some ground rules. Or agreements.”

I nod and lean forward, placing my elbows on the table. “That would probably be wise.”

Silence again. That same serious look on his face and in his eyes. That same tension locking his muscles up tight. His jaw ticks and his throat bobs and he massages the back of his neck again, tearing his eyes away from me and placing them back on the daisies.

“Um…” His cheeks puff out, and he blows air through his lips. “I don’t know how to do this, actually. I’m an only child, and I’ve never had a roommate or lived with someone else aside from…”

He trails off and rubs his buzzed hair, his eyes going distant and his lips pulling into his mouth. And again, I think of that ring from this morning.

Did she leave him? Does he miss her?

“I know what it’s like to be an only child too,” I say, pushing all those way too personal questions out of my mind. “Maybe we can just start simple? And add more rules as we think of them?”

“Simple how?”

“Like… don’t be an asshole?”

He exhales through his nose, a laugh that’s not quite a laugh, and he turns his head to me again. “Dickhead,” he corrects me. “Don’t be a dickhead.”

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