Page 80 of Thorns That Bloom
I glance at the door, considering escape one more time, and head to where she pointed.
“Thanks.”
Two people sit in the small, colorfully decorated waiting room on the way. The walls are filled with all sorts of posters warning about various social justice issues. Big, bold letters talking about ‘Heat or not—NO means NO’ and other related topics remind me, again, that this place isn’t for me. It’s for the two young-looking omegas, a male and a female, who both look at me with a similar spirit of distrust as I pass by.
Unlike the beta receptionist, they can sense who I am. And I get the feeling that I am the enemy. But I already knew that, didn’t I?
Letting out a desperate huff, I wait with my hand on the handle before knocking and entering the conference room with the number four. I step in, expecting to still have some time to get myself together, only to find Gail already standing on the other side of the tiny room, looking out of the window.
Momentarily, I freeze in the doorway, and she immediately turns.
Gail stands tall—even though she isn’t tall, really, by any measure, at her five feet and two inches—with her arms crossed over her chest. It’s a little shocking that besides the maybe slightly thinner, more mature face and her sun-bleached blonde hair being cut to just above her shoulders, she looks identical to the last time I saw her. Maybe…two years ago? I glimpsed her crossing a sidewalk near the mall.
The last time we met and talked properly must have been at least—
“It’s been a long time,” she says instead of a greeting.
Putting on a smile either way, I nod and close the door behind me. “Yeah, it… Thanks for agreeing to see me.”
“You seemed pretty insistent that it was an emergency,” she says, looking me up and down. “I hope it really is something serious that couldn’t have been done over a text, because you’d be surprised to know there are plenty of people needing help, especially on Friday morning. I have other appointments, so this better not be some crazy scheme to get me to—”
“Of course not,” I blurt. Almost as if she realizes she has perhaps gone too far, Gail lets out a long exhale, her chest falling.
“Alright.” She grabs the chair on her side of the table and pulls it out to sit.
I do the same across from her.
“So…what do you need?”
I know I should be explaining and talking about Sam, but seeing her face, so close and yet so distant, and hearing that voice be so cold when we used to whisper secrets to each other and fall asleep in our made-up bunker together has me feeling all…delicate. It hurts my heart, but I expected that coming here, didn’t I?
This isn’t about me or our relationship. It’s about Sam.
“Um, right. There’s a…someone who really needs your help. Like, not yours specifically, unless that’s what you decide is best, but whoever the best lawyer you have available is.”
A skeptical expression flashes across her face. She snorts, as if I have no right to even ask her that. Before she gets the chance to say something harsh or cruel, I hear the door open.
“Speaking of…” Gail murmurs playfully, whoever just came in having completely shifted her attitude.
I don’t have to turn around, because the tall woman in a deep blue power suit and stiletto heels walks around swiftly and ends up standing by Gail’s side. When she looks at me, a high ponytail of shiny brown hair swinging behind her, I can definitely see the way this woman can command attention in a courtroom. Not only is she taller than most men I know, but her eyes, lined by a thin black border, send a clear message: do not fuck with me.
And her scent, unusually strong, tells me she’s an omega, unlike Gail.
“This is Magnolia Ridley. Ourbest lawyer,” Gail says bitingly before sharing a knowing look with her friend.
“You’re the alpha brother, hm?” Magnolia asks, raising her chin in my direction. I can’t help but feel a little ganged up on. Not by her presence, but because she came in acting like Gail wasn’t safe here with me alone or something. I was hoping to talk only to her and to…maybe forge a good path forward.
Either way, I bite down on the discomfort and try to move past it.
“I am.”
“So, what is this about?” Looking at her, she might be only a few years older than Gail and me, if that. She seems older in spirit, though. Has thistake no shitattitude baked into hersteely gaze.
The hostility in the air makes it hard for me to open the horrible box holding the memory of what Sam told me last night as he broke into pieces, but I remind myself that they’re the ones who help people like him. It’s their job. Their calling.
“There’s someone dear to me, who…” How do I start?Fuck, how do I say it out loud when hearing it from Sam nearly made me want to jab my fingers into my ears because of how horrible it was?
“An omega. Right?” she asks, cocking a brow.
