Page 34 of The Honor of Being Hers
“Do you want me to say it’s going to be okay?”
“No.”
“Good,” he said, voice gentler.“Because I wasn’t going to.”
He didn’t offer her a cup of tea or a lecture.He didn’t tell her she was strong or brave or justified.He just held her hand while the leaves moved overhead, and the wind threaded through her sleeves.
“I know what that feels like,” he said finally.“Being reduced to the data.To what they think an Omega should do.”His thumb stroked once across her knuckles, the gesture gentle but fierce in its protectiveness.
She looked at him, eyes narrowing slightly.“When?”
Justin’s smile didn’t reach his eyes.“Four years ago.A client tried to have me removed from a major campaign because they said my ‘Omega instincts’ made my designs too emotional, too soft for their brand.Said I couldn’t understand what strong leadership looked like.Took six months and three industry friends vouching for me to get another contract, and it was ultimately the reason I started my own brand.”
“Why didn’t you ever tell me?”
“Because back then, I didn’t want you to look at me like this.”He squeezed her fingers.“Now I think you might understand.”
She did.
And it made her furious.
She leaned forward suddenly, chest to knees, her hand still gripped tight in his.The denim stretched tight across her bent legs, and she could feel her heartbeat against her thighs, rapid and unsteady.
“I don’t want to go back,” she said.“I don’t want them to see me like this.I don’t want to answer questions, get reassurances, or listen to platitudes.I’m so angry, I want to burn down every server that stores my information or hosts the message board.Even if it’s useless”
“Then let’s.”
“What?”
Justin tilted his head.“You think I showed up with a coffee mug and fabulously contoured cheekbones just to hold your hand?”
She stared at him.
“I have contacts,” he said.“Sarah’s already researching legal precedents for privacy violations and building a case file.Rachel is reaching out to her high-profile clients, CEOs, and athletes who can make noise about institutional discrimination.Samantha’s documenting the health impacts through her veterinary research connections—” His voice caught slightly.“Though she’s dealing with her family demanding she drop everything for them again.Some undoubtedly manufactured crisis about her mom needing ‘help’ that somehow requires reducing her hours at the clinic.God forbid she might scrape enough together to finally pursue her degree.But that’s not the discussion we’re having today.”
A sound escaped her, half laugh, half sob.
“You’re not alone,” he said.“Even if you don’t go back to your pack of concerned Alphas tonight.Or tomorrow.We’re still your pack, too.The one you chose before any Alpha ever touched you.”
She nodded, the motion small, her throat too tight to speak.
“We’ll help you get back on your feet, just as we’ve done a thousand times before for each other, and then we’ll help you put those arrogant intellectual dipshits in their place.”
Justin stood and pulled her up with him, his hand steady on her elbow as her legs remembered how to hold her weight.“Come on,” he said.“Let’s get you somewhere warm before Tyler starts pacing a trench into the stone.I like that entryway, it’d be a tragedy to have to redecorate the entire ground floor.”The thermal mug he pressed into her free hand was warm, the metal was smooth against her cold palms, and she caught the scent of chai and honey; comfort in a cup, chosen specifically for her.
She let him guide her back through the trees, her steps uncertain but moving.Fallen leaves crunched softly under their feet, and she focused on the sound, the simple reality of walking forward instead of sitting still in her hurt.The fear was still there.The anger and the shame, too, but so was a hand in hers.A friend who’d found her.And the first breath that didn’t taste like failure.
18
The house was quieter than she remembered.Not physically, there were still the low sounds of someone shifting furniture upstairs, a door closing softly in the west wing, the murmur of heating units adjusting as the afternoon light faded, but in the way it felt.The marble floor was cool beneath her feet, solid after the uncertainty of the grove.
The air didn’t press in around her this time.It waited.
Justin had walked her up to the gate after she told him she wanted to go back home.Then he’d kissed her cheek and told her to call if she needed to “unpack anything or anyone.”She hadn’t laughed, but the corner of her mouth had twitched.Now she stood in the main hall, coat draped over her arm, bag still looped over one shoulder.The leather strap had left an indent in her sweater, and she absently rubbed at the spot while taking in the familiar space that somehow felt different now.She hadn’t sent a message ahead.If they knew she was here, it was scent or instinct.Or both.
Tyler was the first to appear.
He didn’t speak.Just stepped into the archway across from her and stopped, his tall frame filling the doorway.His sandy brown hair was disheveled, and those gentle hazel eyes that usually radiated calm looked hollow with worry.His typically crisp clothes were now slightly rumpled, his sleeves rolled up, and his hands clean but raw at the knuckles.Not from anger.From over-washing, maybe.From not knowing what else to do with himself.
