Page 27 of Whisper of an Alpha
I nod, feeling the weight of her words settle over me like a heavy fog. “I understand. Just know that I’m here, waiting. I’ll fight for you, Octavia. I promise.”
She looks up, and for a brief moment, I see a flicker of hope in her eyes. “You’d better mean that, Wyatt. Honestly, I think we are both in for a fight.”
“I do, baby girl. I won’t let you go.”
We sit in silence for a moment, the air thick with unspoken words. I watch her as she takes a sip from her cup, her expression contemplative. The ache in my chest lingers, but I know this is just the beginning. I have to prove to her that I’m worth fighting for.
As I sit across from her, I realize that this isn’t just about a mistake — it’s about love, about trust, about the bond we share. And I won’t stop until I’ve shown her just how much she means to me.
The night stretches on, and though the path ahead feels uncertain, I know one thing for sure: I won’t let this be the end of us. I’ll fight for her, for our love, and for the future I know we can still have together.
I’ll do whatever it takes to make things right.
14
UGH, MEETINGS
Octavia
Wakingup in a guest bedroom feels like a betrayal to my heart. The sheets are crisp and cool, but they do nothing to soothe the ache deep inside me. I squint against the morning light filtering through the sheer navy curtains, the rays dancing across the floor and reminding me of a time when everything felt right. But that was before I learned about Rachel and the life she carries — Wyatt’s life that isn’t just ours anymore.
I blink away the remnants of sleep and the memories of last night’s tears. My eyes are swollen, a painful reminder of my own vulnerability. I can’t stay in this room, suffocating under the weight of my thoughts. I swing my legs over the edge of the bed and push myself up, the delicate balance of grief and hope swirling within me like a tempest.
I step into the hallway, the wooden floor cool beneath my bare feet. I glance toward the door that leads to our suite, or what used to be our suite, and I feel a pang of longing for the comfort it once provided. But now, it feels like a sanctuary of ghosts.
I approach Wyatt’s door, hesitating for just a moment before I turn the brass knob. I can hear the shower running, the soothing sound of water cascading against tiles, and I know he’s in there, likely lost in his own thoughts, just like me. I move quickly to the closet, trying not to dwell on the myriad of emotions swirling around me.
As I sift through my clothes, I opt for something that feels like me today. I pull out a midnight blue off-the-shoulder sweater that hugs my curves in just the right way, pairing it with my favorite black leather leggings. I glance at the mirror and try to ignore the way I look — disheveled and heartbroken. I bend down to zip up my ankle boots, my thoughts still racing, when the closet door swings open.
I don’t look up immediately. I can hear him, the soft sound of his footsteps on the floor, and I can feel the warm air that follows him, carrying the scent of his shower gel. The sound of a towel dropping, the soft thud against the floor, sends a shiver down my spine. I finally glance up, and my breath catches in my throat.
Wyatt stands there, his body glistening with water, droplets trailing down his chest and disappearing into the towel wrapped around his waist, the towel he must have used to dry his hair lay discarded. He’s breathtaking, as always, but today, the sight stings rather than soothes. I turn my head away, focusing on the wall instead. I can’t let myself feel that rush of longing. Not now.
“Hey,” he says softly, his voice laced with concern. “You look?—”
“Don’t,” I interrupt, not ready to hear any compliments that might shatter this fragile wall I’ve built around my heart. I pull myself together, glancing back at my clothes, focusing on the fabric instead of the man standing before me. “I’m fine.”
Wyatt’s face falls slightly, and I can see the hurt flickering in his eyes. I hate that I’m doing this to him, but I need space, even if it feels like a chasm between us.
“I just wanted to remind you,” he says gently, “we have the cake tasting in an hour for the ceremony. I can cancel if you want.”
“No,” I snap, a little too sharply, and I immediately regret it. “I don’t want to cancel. I can go alone if you need to deal with…whatever else you have going on.”
He watches me for a moment, his gaze steady and searching. I can see him weighing his words, contemplating how to bridge the gap that has widened between us. Finally, he nods, a resigned look on his face. “Okay. But I’d prefer to walk down together. And I’d like you to sit in the meeting with me, Dalton, and Rachel today.”
The mention of Rachel sends a fresh wave of bitterness rolling through me. I don’t want to be in a room with her, let alone discuss anything regarding our future. She’s the embodiment of everything I can’t have, and the thought of sitting across from her feels unbearable.
“Why do you want me there?” I ask, my voice barely above a whisper.
“Because I want you to be part of this,” he replies, his voice firm yet gentle. “You are part of this.”
His words resonate, but they also confuse me. How can I be a part of something that feels so fundamentally broken? I shake my head, frustration bubbling just beneath the surface. “You don’t understand. How can I be there, knowing what she represents?”
Wyatt steps closer, and I can see the resolve in his eyes. “I know this is hard, Octavia. I’m not asking you to pretend everything is okay. I’m asking you to stand by me while we figure this out together.”
I want to believe him. I want to believe that we can navigate this storm together, but the thought of Rachel lurks in the shadows, haunting every moment.
“Just give me a minute,” I say, retreating into the bathroom to brush my teeth and collect myself. The cool bristles of my toothbrush feel almost foreign against my lips as I try to keep my mind from spiraling. A moment alone to breathe, to think, to gather my shattered heart.
