Page 117 of Pack Scratch Fever
It would be easy to just text her through another number—Maddox bought himself and me new phones to do it with—but I talked him out of it.
Forcing Piper to listen to us won’t change anything.
It’ll only make her move further away from us.
The cat jumps off the bench and hurries off across the campus lawn, darting past my building.
Everything in me screams to go after Piper and convince her that we can fix this.
The ache in me is so strong, the pain so overwhelming that there are times when I have to remember to breathe.
I lost my scent match.
She doesn’t want us. She doesn’t wantme.
Nausea rolls in my stomach, and I suck in a desperate breath.
Poe wasn’t lying—wecanfix this. There are a thousand ways to save the rescue, but I don’t think that’s what this is about for Piper.
We would be happy to pay the new rent—but I doubt she would accept it.
She’s fiercely independent, and even though I don’t know her entire story, it’s obvious she’s been betrayed in the past.
Sweetheart, what happened?
The worst part is Poe signed the fucking papers while we werewithher.
It’s a knife in Piper’s back, and by association, Maddox and I have betrayed her, too.
I try my best to focus on my student’s assignments and the photos they’ve taken, but everything goes back to Piper.
Her eyes were devoid of emotion when she looked at us in the bar, completely closed off and unwilling to trust us again.
But the memory of her scent haunts me the most.
Burnt lemons mixed with alcohol.
It was the scent of her devastation caused by our taking away what mattered the most to her.
My phone buzzes, snapping me out of my spiral. For one insane moment, I think it’s Piper, and hope washes over me in waves.
But it’s gone just as quickly once I see it’s my sister.
“Hey,” I murmur.
“Hey, just checking on you,” Maeve says, her voice gentle.
I couldn’t talk to Poe or Maddox about this. I needed a third party to vent to, and Maeve was the person I called the morning after the bar. I blurted everything to her, telling her that I had found my scent match, but that my pack had fucked up badly.
My little sister used to come to me for boy troubles. Now, I’m calling her with my own relationship issues.
“I’m hanging in there,” I say.
“Liar. C’mon, Avery. Is that really how you’re doing?”
I swallow and drum my fingers on my desk. “No,” I admit after a moment of silence. “It’s bad, Maeve. It’s really, really bad.” Embarrassingly, my voice breaks.
Maeve is an Omega herself and hasn’t found a pack yet. I’ve vetted her Alphas in the past, and none of them have lasted.
