Page 80 of Citius

“Mhm.” It was almost ten, meaning this horrid day was nearly over.

I’d been on the phone for hours—with Grace, Coach Hager, various extended family members, and a few former work colleagues. They’d all reached out with the best intentions, wanting to ensure my head was still attached and in working order.

My siblings had opted for text check-ins. Except Jenna. Not that I’d expected to hear from her. She had valid reasons for maintaining emotional and physical distance from me.

And let’s not forget about the onslaught of emails and texts from unknown names and numbers, including a few interview requests sneaking into my work email.

All thanks to a premier sports outlet publishing an accident retrospective with a minute-by-minute replay of omega gymnastics’ darkest day. It sparked a wave of similar articles and social media posts, reminding a wider audience of an event I’d rather they forget.

The dramatic video snippets prompted Alijah to check on me multiple times throughout the day. His concern was sweet but unnecessary. I could handle the scrutiny.

At least he didn’t annoy me the way a certain noble bear did, hanging around the lobby at the end of the day, pretending to be on a phone call while sending smiling daggers at anyone who got too close to me.

Another waste of Cal’s chivalrous efforts. My resting bitch face was perfectly capable of dissuading people from talking to me.

Kelsey placed her things on the kitchen island and started brewing a pot of coffee. I might have been exhausted, but her peak productivity hours were just kicking in.

I sank lower into the loveseat, resting my head against the cushions, trying to gather the will to move.

“You’re not waiting for Jacobi to call, are you?” she asked, pulling a bottle of flavored creamer from the fridge.

“No. We’re catching up this weekend. Today’s not easy for him, either.”

When the accident happened, he’d been backstage, waiting to compete in the pommel horse final. I don’t know what haunted him more—being forced to watch endless replays of me fracturing my neck on a giant screen or knowing he’d been one of the omega men who competed on the vault earlier in the day.

That was one bronze medal he never took pride in.

Kelsey hesitated, weighing a question on her tongue until I raised a brow, encouraging her to spit it out. “Was it different not having him crash with you last night?”

“It was fine.” Clearly, I didn’t have any trouble sleeping—or blanking the calendar date right out, either. Maybe having Jacobi sleep over every year encouraged nightmares instead of repelling them. “I mean, I miss him, but maybe we don’t need to be so…vigilant about the accident anniversary moving forward.”

“That sounds nice,” she said carefully, trying not to sound too dubious. “In theory.”

“I just hate how much it bothers Mom and Papa. The articles can’t hurt me.” I ran a hand through my hair, realizing it was a touch too long. Did I have a follow-up appointment scheduled with my stylist? I couldn’t remember. “I just hope they don’t make things more awkward at work.”

“They’re not treating you differently because of what happened with Garvey, are they?”

“Not exactly. But some people are keeping their distance. Can’t say I blame them. I don’t think anyone expected him to be put on leave during the investigation. Normally, it’s the omega who gets the boot.”

Kelsey’s face contorted with disgust. “That’s bullshit.”

“Dynamic politics in a nutshell.”

My phone vibrated, announcing the arrival of a somewhat surprising text.

“Jacobi?” Kelsey asked, taking a sip of coffee.

“No. Christine, from the children’s hospital. Wants to get dinner on Saturday.”

“That’s going to be a long day for you.”

“I’ll make it work. It’s not like either of us has much free time.” I typed out my response, suggesting an udon restaurant near the stadium. “She’s in her last year of residency.”

No sooner had I hit send than another, even more surprising textarrived. It was a carefully polished group message from Alijah to Piper and me, along with another number I didn’t recognize. Alijah didn’t seem like the type to text after nine, worried that it might be rude. But I could easily imagine him writing and rewriting the same message for an hour, forcing himself to hit send before he lost his nerve.

Hi! Our pack is hosting a housewarming party next Saturday and would love for the Van Daal ladies to join us.

The event details followed in short order, including an address I knew all too well—unit 602.

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