Page 19 of Forget

“Done,” I say softly.

Dad nods as he takes a deep breath, checking his phone as I shift in my seat. I haven’t mentioned to him that I’ve been redecorating my closet. I bought a swing that I hung inside there, a large sleeping sack that feels like a cloud, and twinkly lights.

I’ve never felt like nesting before but that’s what this is. I looked it up this morning when I began to feel myself beginning to sweat more than usual too.

“Please tell me that the doctor is on his way,” I tell him, swallowing hard as I start to rub my stomach in worry.

“He just texted me that he’s here. Why?” he asks.

“I think it’s starting soon,” I whimper.

Without hesitation, he gets up and scoops me into his arms, the blanket wrapped around me as he storms into the house.

“Dr. Fields!” Dad roars.

The doctor runs toward the sound of his voice, eyes wide as he lifts his bag. “Yes, Sir,” he says, swallowing hard as he walks next to us, following my dad’s pace.

“I need you to knock my daughter out for three days during her?—”

“Four,” I gasp, bending over in pain. I wore scent and slick proof panties today, so I know I’m safe there. “Fuck, it lasted four days last month. Dammit, there's no way for me to really time these either.”

“They can be unpredictable even for older omegas,” Dr. Fields says. “This is all normal, though your request isn’t one I often get. Are you sure?”

Dad’s feet are pounding up the stairs to my room as he makes sure not to jostle me.

“Yes, I’m sure,” I moan, tears starting to fall as I bite my bottom lip hard. I know it’s only going to get worse, and I’m beyond feeling embarrassed that this is happening in front of my father.

“Do it or I’ll be responsible for explaining to the families why we’re down a doctor,” Dad growls, kicking open the door to my room. “Where do you want to go, Aisling?”

For having been married to a beta for so long, he sure is in tune to an omega’s needs. The thought flutters away as pain washes over me, making me shudder.

“Nest, I mean closet!” I yell, hoping he won’t insist that I need a bed. Even though I’ll be sleeping, something about my nest and an enclosed space with my things is what I want.

“Of course,” Dad mutters, as if it’s only logical. He is handling this better than I would expect most fathers to.

“Will scents be an issue for your nest?” Dr. Fields asks. “May I enter to hook you up to an IV and the medication?”

“No and Yes,” I hiss, though I’m glad he’s worried about consent.

Quickly, Dad lays me down on my bed, and the doctor is working his magic. There’s a frown on Dad’s face, his arms crossed over his chest as he watches every move the doctor makes.

Slowly, he also takes in the changes I’ve made to the closet, blowing out a breath.

As my eyes get heavy from the medication, I can hear Dad and the doctor murmuring from the door. Somehow, Dr. Fields made the space work for him.

“I want you to monitor her while she’s out,” Dad says softly. “I don’t like the idea of her being dead to the world for long. I haven’t had time to be able to research if this is even safe!”

“It is,” Dr. Fields murmurs. “Do I think it’s the right decision long term? Absolutely not. You said her heats were intense and she sounds scared of them, which leads me to believe there’s some trauma that she’s feeling surrounding it. We need to remove the reason for it.”

“Unfortunately, she told me I couldn’t kill him, and the damage has been done,” Dad growls.

I want to listen further, but a warm, fluffy darkness surrounds me. It doesn’t feel scary or anything like the last time unconsciousness clawed at my mind, desperate to give my body respite.

It’s as if I just cease to be.

One month later

January

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