Page 60 of Waiting for Fate
Ayla’s eyes are so full of heartbreak, it guts me. “I’ve waited almost a decade,” she says with a shrug. “If I wait any longer, it may be too late for me to see my pack dreams brought to life. I know I’ll always wonder if they’re out there somehow, but I’ve also come to terms with it. Fate doesn’t want our paths to cross.”
“Oh, Ayla.” Tears brim along my lashes, but I blink them away. If I start crying, she will too, then we will both be blubbering messes in the middle of the bistro.
“It’s okay, you know? Not everyone is blessed by Fate, and even those of us who are don’t always get to find our happily ever after. I can build a new future with whatever pack I meet on the show.”
The way she’s twisting her hands tells me she isn’t fully confident in this plan. Year after year of searching has to be wearing down on her. I don’t fault her for giving up. Fate may lay paths for us to walk, but it is our decisions that guide us down them. Perhaps her Fate Matched mates have diverged down a path leading them away from her.
“You deserve all the happiness this world can bring. I’m always here if you need support too,” I remind her.
With one final hug, we part ways. My heart feels heavy, concern eating at me as I think of all the tangled fates around me. It’s a universal truth that happiness is never guaranteed in this life. We have to work for it.
Stepping out onto the sidewalk, I realize I need to pee. Trying to wait until I get home will be a disaster, so I head inside of the bistro. Weaving through the tables, I’m startled to see Shiloh sitting in one of the booths. A little girl, probably three or four, stands on the seat beside him, hanging off of his arm and peppering him with endless questions. My ovaries weep, seeing him smile softly down at her.
Glancing up, his eyes find mine. They widen as he looks me over. I am very aware of his attraction to me. It’s definitely mutual. Everything outside of the physical pull between us is where things get complicated.
The man sitting across from him turns to see what has caught his friend’s attention. Seeing the same nose and coffee-colored eyes, I assume this must be Shiloh’s brother. His voice isn’t necessarily loud, but I hear his words clearly as he asks my boss if he knows me.
My breath freezes in my lungs as I wait for his answer. I don’t know why this moment matters so much, but it does. Our future seems to hinge on his response. I expect a professional brush off, some polite explanation about working for Soulbound. What I don’t expect is to be swept under the rug completely.
“No, I do not know her.”
Emotion jolts down my spine, making my shoulders curl inward. An instinctive reaction to his perceived rejection. The mixture of embarrassment and hurt his words cause has my heart thudding painfully against my ribs.
I truly am nothing to this alpha. Aren’t I?
Whatever pull exists between us frays, one harsh word away from snapping. Ayla’s words have never felt truer- sharing a Fated connection doesn’t always mean you’re guaranteed a happy ending.
Closing my eyes, I gather every ounce of strength I possess. When I open them again, the badass woman I pretend to be is back in her rightful place. Fuck Shiloh Acherley. He may be my boss, but he holds no power over me outside of work.
Strutting past their table, I don’t look at him. He made his choice. I won’t belittle myself by hanging onto his reaction.
Reticence and apprehension, the masks I’ve grown accustomed to wearing since the hospital released Omen. Watching her wither, growing weaker as she aimlessly shuffles around our tiny apartment, is testing my limited patience. My frustration only increases when I remember each of my Fate matched mates has abandoned me for one reason or another.
Which is precisely why we are sitting on the balcony of a New Jersey concert venue. For a few hours, we can pretend the outside world doesn’t exist and get lost in the hypnotic siren’s call that is Candy Courage’s music. I dance in my seat as the stage lights up in familiar shades of pink and purple. Omen sits beside me, a tentative but exhausted smile on her face. She was reluctant to attend, but I wasn’t taking no for an answer. Being a rejected omega doesn’t mean she gets to give up on the wonderful life ahead of her.
Foster catches my eye from her other side, raising one thick brow before he shakes his head. Him being here is also part of the reason Omen agreed to come. She can’t tell us both no, not when she hasn’t seen our other best friend in a few months with being on tour, then in hiding.
The girls of Candy Courage take the stage and I whoop loudly with the crowd. The VIP passes around our necks ignite a small spark of hope in my chest. If my Fate matched mates won’t stick around, maybe I can convince these gorgeous alphas to claim me instead.
Hypnotic beats and soul-reaching screams fill the venue, echoing through my body and draining all of my worries. Getting lost in the lyrics, it’s easy to forget the heartache pulsing in time with each beat of my heart. Loneliness doesn’t weigh as heavily when Azalea’s voice is lifting me up.
My joy comes crashing down when they announce a surprise guest. Of course, Primordial Covenant would be here. They’ve been trying to talk to Omen since her televised encounter with her father. Not that their attempts have been successful. I blocked them at every turn.
When they turned their backs on my bestie, I promised they would never get another chance with her, and I meant it. She deserves better than weak men who assume the worst of her.
“We can leave,” I offer as the show ends. It will suck to walk away when I could meet my idols, but if that is the price I have to pay to keep Omen away from those assholes, I will gladly pay it.
Her head shakes, a resolve straightening her shoulders that brings proud tears to my eyes. She’s so fucking strong. It really sucks that I cannot lessen the weight she carries. Foster gives me a sharp nod from behind her, his eyes slightly narrowed. He doesn’t agree with my attempts to keep Omen’s Fate matched mates from her. Sure, bonding with her mates is an infallible plan to bring her chemical rejection to an end and stop her from spiraling, but until we’ve exhausted every other option to save her, it isn’t worth the risk of them hurting her further.
Unfortunately, it isn’t my call to make. Only Omen can decide if she will give them a second chance.
Grumbling beneath my breath, I grab her hand and lead us to security. They scan our badges and we join the line of VIPs waiting to see the band. We’re the last to be called into the room, which I know is intentional. As much as I love Candy Courage, I can’t help but feel a little salty that they helped to set this meeting up.
When we finally step into the room, my nose immediately itches. Their scents are all soft and floral, matching their names. Blended together, they smell like a spring garden. A scent that is much too sweet for me. My life would be easier if I could become enamored with their scents and join their pack, but Fate has decided that isn’t an option. Naturally.
If only one of my actual Fate matched mates—preferably one who actually enjoys my company—stayed with me. The longing in our connection has me crying at the drop of a hat, and that isn’t good for my boss bitch energy.
Focusing back on the magnificent band before me, I let my inner fan girl loose. Might as well enjoy this meeting, even if I’m a little sad we’re incompatible.
