Page 5 of Discover Me
"Don't worry about the officer or the paramedic. They got what they needed from you. If they need anything else, they'll call." He waves his hand dismissively in the air, a small smile curving his lips upward. "We've got the meet and greet in an hour. You think you'll be ready for it?"
I stare at him. A man just fell from a roof right in front of me. Micah is in an ambulance right now, maybe dying. There's blood caked in places it definitely shouldn’t be and Tom is worried about a meet and greet?
The retort is on the tip of my tongue. Something about priorities and basic human decency. But then I remember who I'm dealing with. Tom doesn't care about things that aren't part of the plan. Detours are problems to be managed.
I swallow the angry words and force myself to nod. "Yeah. I'll be ready."
"Great." Tom finally looks up from his phone. "People are already saying you're a hero, saving one of the locals. This is actually excellent publicity. You, the problem child rockstar, risking yourself to save a working-class Beta. Very humanizing. We can definitely spin this."
I force back a snarl, watching Tom walk back out, the Alpha pressing his phone to his ear. "Sarah? Yeah, we need to capitalize on this. Get me every photo from the scene, preferably ones where Kellan looks heroic..."
The door closes behind him and I immediately strip off the rest of my clothes. Jeans, boxers, socks, boots all pile in the corner. I'll probably just throw them away.
Then I step into the shower, turning the water as hot as I can stand before just bowing my head beneath the spray, letting the water pour over me, trying to understand what the fuck just happened.
An hour ago, I was annoyed about being dragged to some small-town charity gala. I was drinking a Dr Pepper and mentally counting down the hours until we could leave.
Now there's a Beta in the hospital. Micah Davis with his dark eyes and his soft smile. His scent is burned into my memory, that whiskey and vanilla combination that felt right in a way I can't explain. The trust in his eyes when he touched my face still lingers, like I was more thanjusta stranger.
Did I even do enough? Should I have done something different? The questions circle endlessly. I ran over as soon as I saw him fall. Someone called 911 immediately. I kept him still like I’m supposed to with neck injuries. But what if moving him made things worse?
What if he dies and it's because I didn't know what I was doing?
The thought makes me feel sick again, but there's nothing left in my stomach. I slide down to sit in the shower, water cascading over me. This isn't me. I don't fall apart like this. I'm Kellan Hayes, lead drummer of Lunar Ransom, the problem child who doesn't care what anyone thinks.
But I can't stop seeing Micah's face.
Micah
The first thing I'm aware of as consciousness drags me up from the dark is that everything hurts. Not just pain in one specific place, but everywhere. My chest feels like someone's sitting on it, my arm is throbbing with a dull, persistent ache, and my head is pounding like someone's taken a hammer to my skull. Even my neck burns, and when I try to swallow, the movement sends sharp spikes of agony radiating outward.
I try to open my eyes, but my eyelids feel like they weigh a thousand pounds. The world is fuzzy around the edges andeven with the voices nearby, I can’t understand anything. The beeping, though, tells mewhereI am. Hospital. I'm in a hospital.
"Vitals are stable," someone says. "Heart rate's a bit elevated, but that's to be expected given the trauma."
"Does he have any family we should be calling? A bunch of people have brought stuff but…" another voice asks.
"Unfortunately, Mr. Davis doesn’t have any."
I force my eyes open, blinking against the harsh lights above me before trying to turn my head and immediately regretting it as pain lances through my neck.
"Micah?" A familiar voice cuts through the fog. "Holy shit, Micah!"
I blink again, trying to focus on the figure suddenly looming over me. Jamie's face comes into view, his expression a mixture of relief and concern. His blonde hair is messier than usual, sticking up like he's been running his hands through it, and there are dark circles under his eyes.
"Thank fuck," Jamie breathes, that stupid crooked smile of his taking over his whole face. "Man, you scared the shit out of me."
I try to respond, but all that comes out is a groan. My throat is desert-dry, my tongue feels too thick for my mouth. I swallow again, wincing at the pain, and try to take stock of where I am and what happened.
Hospital room. Check. Jamie hovering over me looking worried. Check. Everything hurting like I've been hit by a truck. Check. But why? What happened?
Then it all comes rushing back. The roof. The ladder. Those two Alphas at the bottom, Derek and Colt, shaking it. The terror as the ladder started to lean, the sickening moment when it came completely off the building. Falling. The jagged metal tearing into my skin. Hitting the concrete hard enough to knock the wind out of me.
And then... sweet rum. Strong hands. A tattooed face with worried eyes and multiple piercings. An Alpha who held me like I was precious, who told me to stay awake, whose scent wrapped around me like safety.
I search for that scent now, turning my head despite the pain to look around the room. But all I smell is antiseptic and bleach. No sweet rum. No warmth. Just chemical cleanliness and my own mounting disappointment.
I frown, confusion mixing with something else. Loss, maybe. The absence of that scent feels wrong somehow, like I'm missing something vital.
