Page 64 of Into the Fire: After
I’dbeenthinkingaboutthat hill a lot lately too. About why it’d gotten stuck in my omega’s head, why it warranted four entries in her journal.
Yes, I was ashamed at having read through her journal. But since coming back to Farendale, Taryn was different. Which of course she’d be. We all were. Bonded to her now, though, I felt how soul-deep that change was, and I felt her ignoring it. It was like she had a leech on her skin but refused to pluck it off. Refused to even acknowledge it.
She scared me sometimes.
Like the nights she snuck up to the roof. I’d watched her stare up at the sky like she hoped the world would spin around and she’d fall into it. And I’d watched her back away from the ledge, trembling, but with an ache in the bond that felt like yearning.
There was one thousand percent a better way to express my concern. My therapist would be fucking pissed—especially since she was also bonded to Taryn.
Fuck. That would be a fun conversation to go home to. Then right after I admitted to violating my sunshine omega’s privacy, I’d confess to stalking Heston Callaway. Like a goddamn psychopath.
To be fair, though, he hadn’t been difficult to find. He and his pack lived in a Springvale townhouse north of Farendale. In the days since Gail showed us the Wainwright memo with his initials on it, I’d volunteered to attend some of Lin’s business meetings in his stead. For my own growth journey, I’d insisted, and to take some of the burden from Lin.
In reality, it gave me the excuse to make the two-hour drive and sit in the park across from the Callaway address and monitor their routine.
Blond Alpha walked the dog around the neighborhood park at eight. Glasses Alpha returned home for lunch at half past noon. Manbun Beta, at least fifteen years younger than the other men, went for an evening run around six then, by half past eight, pealed out on a midrange motorcycle.
Heston never emerged. Not any of the four separate days I’d lurked in the park across the street.
My phone buzzed in my pocket.
Taryn
Oh! What about “Wainwright? That manain’tright! Wanna topple a dynasty together?”
I chuckled and ran my fingers through my hair. She’d been sendingdown with the empire!pickup lines in the group chat for days, each sillier than the last.
Some of our coping strategies were healthier than others.
Brea
In the event these messages are ever subpoenaed, these are all Nonserious Jokes.
Taryn
Yes.
Much joke.
Very laugh.
Brea
I’m going to strangle you.
(AGAIN. JOKES.)
Taryn
Don’t threaten me with a good time.
Brooks
Brea wouldn’t strangle you.
She’d put on some sexy heels and step on you. Then we’d thank her for the privilege.
I turned my phone on Do Not Disturb and put it away. The superficial levity of our pack group chat had become a welcome reprieve in the months we’d been home. But if I was going to recruit Heston Callaway to our cause, I had to focus.
