Page 188 of Altius
She paused, head canting in my direction, nostrils flaring as she tried to pick up any hint of deception in my scent.
But there was nothing to find, thanks to dousing myself with the last of the travel bottle of scent-canceling spray Wyatt had given me.
Some of my secrets were still safe.
“The fact that you can’t control the strength of your pheromones is very concerning,” she said. “It’s partly due to your anosmia, of course, but I’m worried. Being on such a high dose of suppressants for so long may have caused permanent damage. We should pursue a complete workup ofyour pheromone gland function. It’ll give us a clearer picture of how to proceed.”
She leaned across the desk, softening her voice, removing any hint of alpha persuasion. “I need to know you’re on board with this, Morgan.”
“Whatever you two think is best,” I croaked out. “Waning syndrome isn’t my area of expertise.”
I don’t know how long I sat there, nodding politely and replying with seemingly appropriate monosyllables while they made robust plans to deal with my diagnosis.
The next thing I knew, Cal was driving us across the Tolliver Bay bridge.
Whitecaps skimmed across the bay like dull blades, as unforgiving as my racing thoughts.
I felt scraped raw, paralyzed by information overload, reeling from the impact of every poor decision I’d made since the day of my accident.
If I’d called Wyatt after my memory started working again, and flown him out for regular visits, would my sense of smell have recovered?
What if he’d been available for my heats? Would I have enjoyed the experience, maybe even looked forward to them?
One thing was for sure—I would never have abused suppressants the way I had. Because I would never have convinced myself that I only had the attention span to be a doctor or fall in love, but not both.
It’s not like I hadn’t tried to let men into my life after the accident, but they always rejected me. Made me believe that my condition was a fatal flaw. That I was better off alone—because Wyatt was never coming back into my life.
So, I dedicated myself to medicine, a goal-driven automaton that ignored everything except her self-imposed routine of exercise, work, more work, and sleep.
But then fate tempted me with Cal’s easy partnership and unwavering support. Blinded me with Alijah’s megawatt smiles and heartfelt care. Allowed Joaquin to poke at the dying embers of my interests and find a healthy outlet for my temper. Unsettled me with the depth of Owen’s mind and the unexpected shelter I found in his dominance.
And Wyatt…
The surprise of him standing there—frozen in the aisle of the airplane in Chicago, as striking as a Greek statue, stealing my breath and threatening to take my heart along with it—still hadn’t faded.
I should have known we’d wind up together, that our biology would override everything else.
He was my scent match.
And I’d nuked my pheromone glands in my desperation to stop needing him.
My lack of scent was directly responsible for his worsening condition.
Guilt was something I was used to living with. I found ways to apologize to my parents and tried to show how much I appreciated Kelsey taking care of me whenever I could. Even Jenna had realized my efforts to maintain our tenuous connection were sincere despite being predictable.
But I couldn’t buy my way out of this mess with a gift card or a shopping spree at a fancy vintage boutique. No amount of carefully worded text messages would repair the damage I’d done.
How was I supposed to face Wyatt and pretend we were equally at fault when I was responsible for our mating syndrome?
Me and my damn pride.
Convinced that I had to become a sports medicine physician, no matter what it cost me or how much I suffered, just like Jacobi said.
But my health was supposed to pay the blood price. Not Wyatt’s. Never Wyatt’s.
Why hadn’t I told him we were scent matches the day we scented each other? I should have known he wouldn’t understand, not with the way his mother raised him. And he deserved to know. Not telling him immediately was selfish and unfair. My lack of decency had doomed us both.
As if that wasn’t horrible enough, I was also forcing Cal to relive his worst nightmare—potentially losing the most important woman in his life to waning syndrome.
