Page 2 of Altius
“Sorry.” He grasped my icy hand. “You needed a healthcare proxy.”
Too many emotions surged forward, clashing until anger took control—as it always did in situations like this—reducing me from a mature adult to a frustrated mess.
I yanked my hand away.
“You called her—why? Why would you do that? Youdon’thave the right!”
His all-knowing demeanor had never been more infuriating. Cal didn’t flinch. Didn’t try to appease me or explain himself. Simply turned to the doctor and resumed their earlier conversation as if I hadn’t just snapped at him.
“Yes, we’d like a pack suite.”
***
Two hours later, I’d been poked, tested, scanned, and resettled in a spacious room with a view of the Tolliver Bay bridge. Downtown Northport’s skyline reflected on the dark water, its blinking red antennas mirroring the warning sirens in my head.
I was running out of patience, and an alpha would take the brunt of it.
“When are you leaving?” I grumbled as Cal set cups of grapes and cheese cubes on the overbed table. “We’re not pack. They’ll kick you out any minute now.”
My gaze, still blurry despite the return of my glasses, shifted to the muscular form next to the sofa.
“Same goes for you.”
Wyatt Redmond ignored me, his wavy black hair falling forward to shield his face as he dug into a weekender bag. It looked suspiciously like one of Kelsey’s.
His biceps flexed as he pulled out another throw pillow and added it to the growing number on the sofa—five, maybe six. I’d lost count. But they’d all fit perfectly in my library nest. Then he handed a gray weighted blanket to Cal, jolting a loose synapse in my muddled brain back into place.
Thatwasmy favorite blanket. And thoseweremy pillows. My things.
Mine.
A rare flash of omega possessiveness ripped through me.
“You were in my suite?”
“Only for a few minutes,” Cal said, draping the weighted blanket across my legs. “I asked him to grab your essentials—phone charger, pajamas.”
“Snacks.” Wyatt zipped the empty bag shut.
I glanced at the food on the table, belatedly recognizing the rations my younger sister and caretaker, Kelsey, had prepared before leaving for Tacoma—food I hadn’t touched, just like the lunches and dinners forgotten in the fridge.
Wyatt knocked his fist against the pillows, clearing a space to sit. “The toothbrush is new, though.”
“And he fed the cats,” Cal added, as if being helpful erased the transgression.
“Tenny likes me.” Wyatt’s face brightened, undeterred by my irritation. “Even let me give him a belly rub after dinner.”
An uneasy pause filled the room. I wanted to tell them to leave. That they were overstepping my boundaries, and I could manage on my own.
But I couldn’t, which upset me most of all.
How had I ended up in this situation?
The first suppressant reduction should have been the brutal one, not the second. I’d taken my pills on time, stayed hydrated, done my best to eat regularly, and gotten extra sleep.
So why had it wrecked me?
Only time and further testing would tell. Hopefully, we’d have results in the morning. I hated hospitals. But that was my problem. Not Wyatt or Cal’s.
