Page 78 of Fragile Heart

It shouldn’t hurt. I’ve done my damnedest to avoid her all week. Discussing whatever the fuck is happening between us istoo… vulnerable. Not without proof that she’s my match. Fuck me, maybe not even then. I loved Kayla, adored her,bondedwith her. Does all that just… get negated if Brielle’s my scent match, the one designed biologically for me?

Could I have avoided the heart wrenching, life-altering experience of finding my Omega dead in the garage by her own doing?

But then I wouldn’t have Camden. Caleb and I wouldn’t have become such close friends—the brother I never had. Him and Brandon both.

Caleb cuts off the spiraling thoughts.

“I need to call Emily and get Camden somewhere,” he says. “I’ll let you know when I get there.”

“Sounds great,” I mutter and then slip my phone into my pocket.

When I step back into the waiting area, the woman who took the blood sample is leaning against the desk, a small, unmarked, white envelope in her hand. She offers it with a small smile that doesn’t quite reach her eyes.

“Next steps are on the second page, Mr. Taylor.”

My hand trembles as I take the envelope and she turns, heading deeper into the clinic. I don’t open it until I’m back in the hallway and away from the receptionist’s hawkish glare. And then every single swirling thought drains out.

The sun is setting by the time I pull into the garage. I lean my head back, trying to calm the incessant nagging voice that’s been running a mile a minute since the bloodwork came back. It doesn’t fucking work. They race through me in another loop.

I should tell her. She deserves to at least know. It shouldn’t be anything done publicly, though. There’s too many people who are obsessed with her—especially since my fuck up on the Fourth.

How the hell am I going to find a way to tell her in private?

And then what happens when I do tell her? Are we athingagain? Do we talk about the last decade? Do I finally bring up that sniveling, spineless asshole of a Beta she married? Ask her exactly why Melissa said he was a lying bastard?

And if we do become something, what happens with Cam? With her long term plans here?

Emily said she doesn’t have a job. Honestly, she probably doesn’t need one if she got her husband’s wealth with his death. But does she want one? Does she want her own house?

Hell, does she move in here with us?

The idea of her living here, where Kayla lived and breathed and slept, makes my chest tighten. The rooms are all different now—mostly. And there’s not a single piece of her nest that’s remained aside from a few small trinkets Caleb and I kept. But just the idea of Brielle nesting in the same room has dread and guilt roiling through me.

With a sigh, I shuffle into the house, toeing off my boots and shedding the flannel I’d worn over the top of a plain white shirt. The thoughts keep swirling even as I throw together a quick dinner and then trim my beard. The light in the bathroom catches on one of my tattoos, and all that guilt and dread and confusion roar up again in an undeniable wave.

I grab my phone and text Melissa before I can talk myself out of it.

You and Brielle doing anything tonight?

There’s a god awful minute of no response before the message is marked as seen and the dots show up.

We were at the Outpost.

Were?

Ryan called and said Chesapeake went lame again, so I’m working on getting out there to see what’s wrong.

Fuck me. She threw another goddamn shoe?

Shit. You need me out there tonight?

Shouldn’t. Ryan didn’t say it was an emergency. I’ll see what’s up with her feet and then send you an update.

I blow out a breath and rub my neck.

You’re not a fucking coward,I tell myself. Then send her another text.

Brielle still at the Outpost?

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