Page 140 of Coco and the Misfits

“Any of these feelings, sugar.”

“I haven’t withdrawn from social events. Okay, that’s not true but at least... not without a reason.”

“All right.”

“How would you know the symptoms of depression anyway?” I demand.

“I know them because I’ve been there.”

Of course he has. The story of losing his parents is still fresh on my mind. I just don’t like how easily he’s reading me. “Now you’ll tell me I need exercise and diet to feel better.”

“No. You need to accept yourself.”

“That again! But I?—”

“Accept who you think you are,” he says softly. “Who you want to be. Forget about what the world says and demands. Who are you inside, Coco?”

I’m shivering now. This is the moment of truth. I avoided it for as long as I could, but there is no turning back now.

“About that…” I say faintly. I feel faint, truth be told. Kind of insubstantial. “I’m not an omega.”

His dark brows draw together. “Come again?”

“You see?” I get up and start to pace. “I knew you’d take it badly. I just knew it.”

“Take what badly? Whoa, slow down.” He gets up, too, unfolding that tall, muscular frame of his. “You said… you’re not an omega? Then what are you?”

Anger sparks in me, because yeah, what the hell am I? And then despair floods back in.

“I’m a beta who keeps hoping she awakens as an omega,” I whisper, “because in my soul that’s what I am. An omega who needs her alphas to take care of her.”

“Then that’s what you are. You don’t have to be anyone’s cup of tea,” he says, his gaze boring through me. “Be gasoline. Set the world on fire.”

A reluctant smile pulls at my lips. I wipe at my eyes. “Damn. That sounds good.”

“You really should. Burn it down, baby. And I’m here for it.”

I shake my head. “Stop. Stop trying to make me feel better when I’ve let you down so badly.”

“You haven’t. Coco…” He takes a step toward me, then stops when I back away. “Don’t you want us? I need to know.” He folds an arm behind his head, rubbing the back of his neck, and I’m distracted by bulging biceps and shifting ink. “I need to know if you want the three of us. Or any one of us. Does any one of us three stand a chance with you?”

“You…” I blink through my tears. “I just told you I’m not an omega and you’re asking me this?”

“Yeah.” His gaze is steady on me. Clear. Focused. “Hell, yeah. That’s what I wanna know.”

“I want… all three of you. See? See how messed-up this is?” My voice is rising with every word. I don’t know if to cry some more or laugh hysterically. “I’m not an omega. I have no right to want a pack.”

“Everyone has a right to want what they want, baby girl. And what you are has nothing to do with it. The only thing that matters is who you are and what makes you happy.”

“But—”

“Decide what you want to be. Nobody can decide that for you, doctors, tests, the government. Because at the end of the day, the real question is… is the letter stamped on your ID more important than what you feel you are? Can a blood test tell you that? Isn’t it up to you to decide?”

I bite the inside of my cheek. “You’re right.”

“Decide what and who you want to be. We’ll be waiting to hear from you when you’re ready. We care. We’re here. We’ll still guard you on the streets and just… just know that we don’t mind if you’re an omega, a beta, a delta. I’ve talked to the others and we agree. You’re Coco. Our girl. Our candy girl. And that’s all that matters to us.”

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