Page 10 of Discover Me
"Jesus Christ, no." I roll my eyes. "I barely knew who Lunar Ransom was before all this. I'm not a fan. I just..." I trail off, not sure how to explain it. "It was just right, you know? Like everything fit somehow. And I haven't been able to smell much of anything since the surgery, but I can still smell the petals. It's comforting."
"Micah." Jamie's voice drops even lower, taking on a serious tone I rarely hear from him. "You could be mates or something. Wouldn't that be wild? Mated to a rockstar. The small-town construction worker and the famous drummer. It's like a romance novel."
"Don't joke about that." The words come out sharper than I intend. "I'm just fucked in the head for a little bit, not having anything to do. My brain is latching onto the one good thing that happened that day because everything else was terrible. That's all it is."
"Is it though?" Jamie challenges.
"Yes." I push my plate away, suddenly not hungry anymore. "I'm going stir crazy stuck in this house with nothing to do but think and hurt and worry about money. I'm probably just creating narratives where there aren't any because I'm bored and in pain."
Jamie shrugs, not looking entirely convinced but willing to drop it for now. "I can't imagine. To be honest, I'm surprised you haven't started renovating your house. You've been talking about updating the kitchen for what, two years?"
I snort. "I thought about it. Then I tried to lift a screwdriver and breathing hurt so bad I had to sit down for twenty minutes. Renovations are off the table until I can at least breathe without feeling like someone's stabbing me."
"Fair point." Jamie shovels more casserole into his mouth, then pauses mid-chew as something occurs to him. His eyes light up with the kind of mischief that usually means trouble. "I heard Lunar Ransom is having a concert a few towns over at the end of the month. We should go."
"Why would I do that?" I stare at him like he's lost his mind.
"Because maybe the guy who's never shown a shred of interest in anyone is now preserving dead rose petals sent by the rockstar's company." Jamie waves his fork at the driedpetals. "He didn't even send those personally, Micah, and you're treating them like a precious artifact. You need to see him again. Get some closure or confirmation or whatever it is you need to move on from this weird obsession."
"It's not an obsession." But even as I say it, I know how it sounds. I know how it looks.
"It smells like him," I add quietly, like that explains everything. Maybe it does.
Jamie freezes, his fork halfway to his mouth. He sets it down slowly, his expression shifting from teasing to serious in an instant. "Hold on. Wait. What? You've never said anything about Kellan's scent specifically. You said you smelled the petals or the flowers or whatever."
"So?" I pick up my coffee, taking a sip even though it's gone completely cold now.
"So." Jamie’s eyes widen, the intensity growing as his pupils dilate. "Betas don't usually fixate on Alpha scents like that unless there's mate compatibility. You're not an Omega who's biologically wired to respond to Alpha pheromones. For you to be this hung up on his scent specifically?" He sits back, a grin spreading across his face. "Jesus Christ, he might actually be yours. Your mate. Fuck, yeah, we're going to that concert, okay? No arguments."
"Jamie—" I start to protest, but he's already on his feet.
"Nope. No protests. We're going." He stuffs the rest of his breakfast in his mouth, chewing quickly while he moves toward the door. "I'll get the tickets tonight. We'll make a road trip out of it. It'll be good for you to get out of this house, to stop staring at dead flowers and bills."
"I can't afford concert tickets," I call after him.
"My treat!" He's already at the door, pulling it open. "Consider it payment for all the times you've helped me with construction projects around my place."
"Jamie, I can't—"
"Too late! Already decided!" He waves without looking back. "I'll text you the details. Start thinking about what you want to wear. Maybe something that shows off the muscles. Rockstars like muscles, right?"
The door slams behind him before I can formulate another protest. I sit there in the sudden silence of my kitchen, staring at the space Jamie just vacated. The remains of the breakfast casserole sit on the table between us, my plate still half-full because my appetite disappeared somewhere during the conversation.
I sag back in my chair, careful of my ribs, and look at the dried petals sitting in their small dish. They're brown now, curling at the edges, barely recognizable as the rose I kept from the bouquet. But when I lean close, I can still catch the faintest hint of sweet rum beneath the scent of decay.
Jamie's words echo in my head."He might actually be yours."
The idea is absurd. I'm a small-town construction worker with a damaged scent gland and a pile of medical debt. Kellan Hayes is a famous rockstar who probably has all sorts of people throwing themselves at him every night. The idea that we could be mates, that what I felt in that moment was anything more than trauma and relief and gratitude, feels like a fantasy too dangerous to entertain.
But I can't stop smelling those petals. Can't stop remembering the way his scent made me feel safe even while everything hurt. Can't stop replaying the moment when his fingers wrapped around mine and I felt like I'd found something I didn't know I'd been looking for.
The idea of seeing Kellan again fills me with equal parts excitement and dread. What if I see him and feel nothing? What if this pull I think I feel is just trauma and pain medication and fear of dying? What if I'm building this up in my head, creatinga connection that doesn't exist because I'm lonely and hurt and desperate for something good in my life?
Or worse, what if I see him and feel everything all over again? What if that pullisreal, that sense of rightness and belonging, and he looks at me with no recognition? Just another face in the crowd, another stranger who bought a ticket to his show. What if he doesn't remember saving me at all? What if he doesn't remember my face or my scent or the way I reached for him like he was the only solid thing in a world that had tilted sideways?
I don't know which option scares me more.
Kellan
