Page 20 of These Bonds that Unite Us
“I didn’t even consider she may not have her phone,” Foster comments distractedly. Soft murmurs in the background pull his attention away from our call. Annoyance bubbles inside of my chest, but I take a deep breath and slowly blow it out. I’m not upset with Foster, I’m impatient to get to my girl. “That still isn’t a good enough excuse. You could have come to the hospital to visit her.”
“We would have if we knew where she was. Bea won’t let us anywhere near Omen, and their bodyguards aren’t answering any of our texts either,” Nebula counters.
“Lex and Ridley are tracking down Doctor Harrison, so they won’t have their personal phones on them.” Foster pauses. “You tried to ask Bea about Omen? And she shut you down?”
“Yeah.” I finally join the conversation. “I tried to ask her when I saw her at the label earlier, but she insists we aren’t ever going to be part of Omen’s life again. She believes she can save Omen herself.”
“Bullshit,” Foster snaps. “Look, I’m not telling you where she lives, because I don’t think she’s ready to have the four of you invading her safe space. Not after everything she’s been through.”
My heart sinks with his words. He was our last option, the only one who may think clearly enough to give us a chance to make things right with our girl. But even he is unwilling to give Omen the push she needs.
“But,” Foster steals our attention again. “I will tell you Bea and I are dragging her to Candy Courage’s show in Camden tomorrow night.”
“Right, okay. Yeah, we can work with that.” Nebula’s response is distracted, his bond already abuzz with the ideas flitting through his mind.
Foster ends the call with a reminder of what will happen if we fuck up with Omen again. We’re all grateful for his help, and his rightfully earned anger. He’s concerned enough about our girl’s health to help us find an opportunity to see her so we can start to make things right. All we need is one chance, a single moment in her presence, and I swear I’ll never leave her side again.
“I have an idea,” Nebula says as he climbs out of the car. “Let’s go win our omega back.”
CHAPTER NINE
Now Playing: We All Meet Up In the End- Attack Attack!
I’m at a standstill. My health stagnant with the help of the medicine Dr. Russell prescribed me. I can’t decide what is worse: the spiraling decline or this static, slow downfall.
Bea dances into my room, a smile painted on her face. Worry still fills her dark blue eyes, but she seems hopeful. “It’s almost time!” Her excitement is palpable, bringing a small smile to my lips. I watch from my bed as she throws open my closet and starts searching through my clothes. She turns around a second later with a pair of high-waisted shorts in her hand.
My head shakes rapidly, making her frown. My body is still mottled from the bruises covering my skin. If she’s going to demand I go out with her, I’m going to wear clothes I feel comfortable in. I throw on a pair of cuffed skinny jeans and a black band tee and grab a black and white flannel to throw over the shirt in case I start to get cold at the show later.
She chatters about her work with the label while she does my hair, easily pulling the messy strands into two French braids.“The paperwork is endless,” she complains. “Half the time I feel like Acherley is sending me nonsense just to fuck with me.”
Apparently working with a band on tour is immensely different than when she works out of their office.
I listen quietly as she talks, my eyes drooping with the exhaustion still weighing me down. She presses a mug of coffee into my hands, one eyebrow raised as if she’s daring me to object to the energy boost. My nose scrunches at the bitter aftertaste of the drink, but I suffer through drinking it. If it makes Bea happy and takes the concern from her eyes for a bit, I’ll fake a smile and sway along to the music.
My feet are slipping into my shoes when I hear raised voices from our living room. I frown, wondering who she’s arguing with. Stepping closer to the doorway I hear Foster’s frustration filtering back to me. “She needs them, Bea!”
“They tossed her aside like she was trash on their doorstep!” Bea objects. “She deserves better than those assholes!”
My brows furrow hearing her talk about my Fate matches mates. She isn’t wrong, which makes the persistent ache in my heart worse. They did cast me aside like my connection to them held no value, but she is also choosing to ignore the lies and secrets I had told to keep my identity as Sarah Montgomery hidden.
“She’s doing better, Foster! I’m not going to allow them to come rushing back into her life so they can hurt her all over again.” Bea speaks firmly, her stubborn omega side shining through.
“Omen isn’t doing better, she just isn’t getting worse! The medicine they gave her is only a temporary solution, not a cure,” Foster reminds her. “The only permanent solution for her rejection is to bond with her mates.”
“So they can break her again as soon as they hit another bump in the road? I won’t risk putting her through this again. We will find another way.”
“Bea,” Foster begs. “Regardless of our feelings toward Pack Graves, it isn’t our decision to make. Omen needs to choose what path to take for herself. Something she can’t do with you blocking them from even speaking with her!”
“He’s right,” I cut in before Bea can respond. They both startle when they see me leaning against the doorway to my bedroom. “I love you to pieces, Bea, and I appreciate you wanting to protect me. But it’s my choice whether I let them back into my life or not.”
“You barely survived the first time–”
“I am intimately aware of how close I came to dying,” I hiss. Shaking my head, I clear my own growing frustration. Bea is only trying to do what she thinks is best, even if it isn’t her place to do so. “Have the guys been trying to reach out to me through you?”
Her lips purse and she looks away. My shoulders droop at her unspoken admission. I don’t know how I feel about my mates trying to reach out to me now. What reason could they possibly have for this sudden change of heart? Guilt after seeing my encounter with my father on TV?
That’s probably it. Their instincts are urging them to take care of me after watching me get my ass kicked. I’ll have to write to them later to appease their worries so they can get back to their lives.
