Page 42 of The Omega Lesson

God, please let her be okay…

“We’re here,” Noah says, and I spring off Mattie, my hands already pushing at the fancy door. Noah screeches to a stop, the butterfly wing opening up and out again. I’m pretty sure we’re in the emergency vehicles’ bay, and I blink at the guy in a suit who’s waiting for us. He’s young, ridiculously pretty, with a fauxhawk like Noah’s, only his is a brilliant white gold. Noah comes around the front of the car, nodding in his direction. “Lexi, this is Clark.”

He thrusts out a tattooed hand at me, his wide smile instantly taking him from pretty to devastating. “Hi Lexi, I have the Head of Urgent Care waiting to talk to you about Bree. Are you ready to go in?”

I blink at him. “Do you work for the hospital?”

“No, thank the Lord. I’m Noah’s assistant.” He winks at me. “He pays me a lot to keep him out of trouble.” He runs an eye over us, lingering on Mattie’s exposed neck. “Although it looks like Team Trouble is the place to be.”

“Zip it, Clark. Lexi’s got other things on her mind right now.”

Clark shoots Noah a snappy salute and then straightens his tie, which is the same brilliant white gold as his hair. “He’s grouchy because you’re upset,” he fake-whispers to me. “It’s so cute I want to scream.”

Mattie gives him a little shove in the back and Clark squawks, then leaps forward to swipe a security badge over a reader. It’s only as we file through the door that I realise he smells like fairy floss. “You’re an omega?”

“Mm-hmm. Although you don’t have to worry about me coming onto your boys. I’m ace. As in asexual. Not even Noah Lyall can float my boat.”

I just nod, because while chatting is keeping my mind from going into wild loops, it’s still a lot to process. “Well, thanks for meeting us. I was worried we’d be kept in the waiting room forever.”

He screws up his nose at me. “God forbid. Hospitals are cesspools, but this one is a little better than most.” He leans forward and this time whispers for real. “Probably thanks to a certain germaphobe CEO, if you catch my drift.”

I don’t, but it doesn’t matter, because we’re being handed off to Dr. Cohen, who tells me they’ve x-rayed Bree’s arm and ruled out a fracture. They’ve treated her with ibuprofen, cold compresses, and applied a wrist splint, just to give it the best chance to heal. They’re also monitoring her for the knock to the head, but now the vomiting has stopped, there are no signs of concussion.

“We’ve moved her to a private room, and she’s resting comfortably. Shall I take you through, and then you can ask me any follow-up questions?”

“Yes, thanks.” I can feel tears threatening again, this time in gratitude. “I didn’t expect you to take the time to talk to me, but I’m really grateful.”

He gives me a kind smile. “Your daughter is a delight, Miss Novak. And I don’t get nearly enough opportunities to meet our younger patients.”

I’m sure he’s just being polite, and it’s obvious Noah has pulled some strings to get us this kind of service, but I’m shaking too hard to say anything else. The word concussion alone made the saliva dry up in my mouth.

Which is why I’m clutching Noah and Mattie’s hands when we enter the room and find Richard and Moira sitting by the side of the bed. I barely take anything in, except to see the space is large, clean, and private, and then I’m rushing to Bree’s side. I have to push past Moira a little, but I don’t hesitate to step on her toes.

“Baby, did you go whoops?” I summon a smile from God knows where, because the sight of Bree’s tiny wrist in a brace makes me want to kill someone. I lean down to rub my cheek against hers, breathing in her soft floral scent. My eyes well at the way her small body looks in the big bed, her uninjured arm curling around my neck. I’m a freaking mess, but I suck it all back and give her a kiss on the forehead. “How are you feeling, Sweetpea?”

“Mummy, I fell all the way down!” She tells me in a rush, her face caught between horror and awe. “From the top. And I puked up my lunch. Then I went to sleep. Then the ambulance came.” She looks around, like it’s just dawning on her. “I’m in the hospital!”

“I know, baby. But the doctor said you are doing so great. Can I see your eyes? Look at mummy nice and wide.”

“The head of the unit already saw her,” Moira says behind me, an edge to her soft voice. “Do you really think you’ll pick up something they missed?”

“No, but mummy loves looking at her pretty girl,” I tell Bree, checking her dark brown eyes for a blown pupil. When I’m satisfied, I bop her on the end of the nose and sink onto the edge of her bed. There’s not a lot of room with Richard and Moira’s chairs in the way, but I’m moving over my dead body. Or theirs. Mass murder might even be on the cards when I look at my baby’s broken little wing. “I’m sorry I wasn’t here sooner, Sweetpea, but it looks like they’re taking good care of you.”

“Of course, we took care of her, Alexa. You’re fussing about nothing,” Richard says in his most patronising voice, and I force myself to look at him.

I tell myself he’s still the boy I knew at sixteen, even though it’s buried pretty deep under his expensive suits and perfectly parted hair. Richard was the captain of the tennis team at Randall Academy, the brother school to my own. We bonded over sports, music, and chocolate cake from his school’s cafeteria, and some part of me knew I was trying to recreate those perfect summers with Travis Lyall. But we made our own happiness, and I fell in love, and then we had the most perfect baby in the world. But as I stare into his annoyed blue eyes, I wonder if there’s any shadow of that life left. Or if I’m just clinging to the memories that made the little girl in front of us.

“Thanks, Richard,” I say quietly, then force myself to look at Moira. “And you too, Moira. Thanks for being here.”

“Where else would we be?” She asks with a lift of a silky blonde brow. “She’s our responsibility, after all.”

I bite the inside of my cheek, wanting to snatch the words out of the air. Bree should never think of herself as a responsibility – aduty– but Moira has always liked to point out the many ways their care is superior to my own.

Which is petty and makes no sense to me. Because even though she was the source of my misery for a long time, I don’t think she’s really a bad person. Just spoiled and full of her own importance, like a lot of beautiful omegas. She has their classic, delicate features, with curly blonde hair and crystal blue eyes. Every man who sees her takes a second glance, and as an alpha, I understand their interest. Even if I feel like pushing her into a ditch most of the time.

“Is there anything I can get you, love?” I ask, leaning down to brush Bree’s soft black hair off her face. Despite having thrown up, she’s still in her school uniform, a tartan pinafore dress with puffy sleeves and a little pin tie that she’s always losing. “Have they given you a snack?”

“She’s fine, Lexi,” Moira grates out, but I just squeeze Bree’s hand and pour her some more water into the plastic cup on her tray. She fumbles with it for a minute, but gives me a triumphant smile when she drinks it down.

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