Page 47 of Unbreak Me

Wasn’t that what I wanted all along?

I meant something to him—what happened to me mattered. He hadn’t let my story go in one ear and out the other. He had taken action. I didn’t yet know exactly what for, but it was clear that he was determined to dig deeper into this mess.

Memories of my visits to therapists flickered in my mind. Their faces, schooled to look polite and interested in my problems. Oh, one more raped omega crying his eyes out on their couches. "Let’s talk about your feelings…" Fuck them. None of them really cared. None of them tried to convince me that Ishould fight for justice for myself. It was always, "Let’s talk about it for an hour, and thanks for the money."

And I’m not saying they didn’t genuinely want to ease my pain, but we didn’t have a personal bond, and the formal nature of our relationship influenced my healing process. What might work for other people—the distance and objective perspective—just didn't do it for me.

What did I want?

The outrage I saw yesterday in Jan’s eyes! To see the tears, the trembling hands, the devastation, mirroring my own! Jan gave me that. And he wanted to do even more.

As an alpha, his psyche worked a little differently than mine. Alphas were doers, always moving forward, unafraid of confrontation, pursuing their goals much more fiercely than other subgenders.

Could I really blame him for manifesting a nature so opposite to mine—more conservative and cautious?

Maybe, just maybe, I could count to ten before exploding with anger and remind myself that there was much more to gain from our synergy.

"Okay, thank you very much. I'll look into it tonight." Jan ended the call and went toward the raspberry field.

Now I decided to wait and see what would happen.

During lunch, Jan seemed excited, almost restless, and also, for the first time, quite absent-minded. It was usually my specialty—staring into the horizon. This day it was him, deeply immersed in his thoughts. He worked a little longer in the afternoon, but then came back home for dinner.

As soon as he finished eating, he went to his room and locked himself in.

Of course, I knew what he was doing—reviewing the camera footage.

Barely able to hold my nerves, I lay inside my nest, grateful that I hadn't changed its form yet, that it was still so safe. I curled up and closed my eyelids.

No idea why, but somehow I was picking up Jan's emotions! How was that possible? There was a thick wall between us, yet I felt like Jan was almost physically shaking as he went over those files. At one point, a wave of his anger hit my body. What was happening? Why was I receiving it so powerfully? I'd only heard about one such case, but it seemed absolutely unlikely. Or maybe I just imagined the feeling? Yes, that must be it.

I flinched as I heard a knock on the door. Without sitting up, still curled in the nest, I called, "Come in!"

Jan entered slowly. He was pale; his hands trembling. I could see it even from afar—whatever he saw shook him deeply. He stopped by my bed.

"Can I sit here?" he pointed to the edge, just outside the nest area.

"Yes, please."

Or course, I knew what he wanted to say now. In a way, I was glad because it meant he still intended to tell me about his controversial actions.

"Day, I did something I didn’t consult with you about, but I just had to. I hope you’ll forgive me."

"You got the recordings from the City Hall, from the day Ferguson assaulted me."

Jan gaped his mouth. I had never seen such a shocked and surprised expression in my life.

"How? How do you know?"

"I overheard your conversation with Frank."

A minute of silence passed before he asked, "Are you angry?"

For a moment, I stared at him, and he stared at me. Then, unexpectedly to myself, I slowly shook my head.

No more needed to be said. Somehow, I was at peace with what he did.

Jan let out a deep breath.

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