Page 68 of Wicked Truths

It’s ultimately not my call.

I can have opinions and feelings on the matter all goddamn day, but it’s not my decision to make. I know her well enough to realize she’ll be a hell of a lot more comfortable with Hawk and Liam than she would with random assholes.

That opens up the possibility of their relationship continuing following the heat, if that’s even what’s going on.

“Well, shite.” Liam laughs. “It’s disturbing when you get self-reflective.” I snort, shaking my head. “I believe you should speak to Sullivan. He’s also in love with her, but it’s not my story to tell.”

I growl unable to hold back the response. Sullivan is worse than even Hawk in my opinion, but I’m not an especially forgiving person when someone fucks me over, let alone when they screw over my omega.

“Sullivan had his chance.” I cross my arms over my chest as we pull up to a huge black metal gate.

“We’ve talked about it extensively and he didn’t hurt Oakley intentionally.” Liam turns to face me. “The two of you fighting and continuing to hate each other will only put additional strain on Oakley.”

“Are you my fucking therapist now?” I snap.

“No, but it sure seems we could all use one, doesn’t it?” He grins. Well, I’m not going to dispute that. I sure could have used someone to talk to when I was a teenager. I definitely wouldn’t have so many fucking scars—and not just metaphorical ones. “Listen, I know Angel is a clusterfuck of misery, or I’m guessing she is based on your mood, but don’t let it send you into self-destruct mode. Trust me when I say I know all about that impulse, but it will get you nowhere pleasant.”

I sigh, swiping long hair back from my forehead. Who knows why I’m wired this way, but anytime my emotions get too big, I straight up lash out. Most of the time, I settle for tossing shitty comments at people and hiding behind a wall of relative sarcasm, but fuck, Angel gets under my skin.

It makes no sense.

I tell myself I don’t give a fuck, but yeah, it’s hard to bottle up those feelings. The same ones I had wondering why my supposed father chose fame over me, but again, Damian wasn’t the villain.

“I’m serious. If you’re about to fuck Oakley over then tell me now. We can turn this car right back around and take you back to the city,” Liam growls, slapping the seat between us.

“Fuck you,” I scoff as the car comes to a halt. I’m not about to ruin the only good thing I’ve got going for myself. I’m in a place where music isn’t even worth the trouble because all it’s doing is giving Angel an excuse to stick around.

The door locks disengage, and I pop out without another word. No one has an ounce of faith in me except for Oakley. She’s the last goddamn person I would lash out against. The fact she’s sick and needs me has me jogging for the doors with little concern for Liam or our shit.

* * *

If one more person tries to delay me getting to Oakley, I’m going to take a swing. My nerves are shot. I passed feral about three minutes ago.

I stomp into the medical office, and Sullivan hits his feet.

“You can’t go in there—” he starts.

I flip him off as my eyes fly to Hawk’s.

“Second door on the right,” he grunts, leaning against the wall just next to the hallway.

“Thanks,” I mutter, jogging to the room he mentioned. I don’t knock. I crack the door, and a female doctor spins around, jabbing a finger in my direction.

“I already told the two of you.” She does a double take when she spots me.

I don’t give a shit. I shut the door behind me and aim for my omega. Oakley looks miserable, but a soft smile crosses her face when she sees me.

“I missed you,” she says in a shaky tone.

I climb on the bed, and she scoots over onto my chest.

I give the doctor as contrite a smile as I can force. “You can get back to whatever you were discussing.”

“Alphas, they always think the rules don’t apply to them,” she says, shaking her head. “It’s up to you.” She looks at Oakley, who clutches my chest even tighter like she’s afraid the doctor might forcibly pry me out of her grip.

“I want him to stay,” Oakley says.

“Fair enough. I’m Jess, the nurse practitioner. We’re just getting into the lab results, at least the ones I can run on site.” She flops open a file folder. “You’re not pregnant.” My eyes fly to Oakley’s. I didn’t know that was even a possibility. I mean, I guess it’s always a possibility when you’re having sex, but she has an implant. “You don’t have the flu or strep throat or any of the other things currently going around that I can check for in office.”

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