Page 20 of Sweetheart: Part Two

Drake stood up, a bowl in his hands.

“It’s… I don’t…”

I stared at it. It was a pink dog bowl, and it had a word hand painted across it in black.

‘Aisha’.

“You said Aisha was…” I didn’t finish, a stone dropping into my stomach. He’d said Aisha was her best friend.

Drake set the bowl down, eyes scanning the photos that were pinned up around the vanity’s mirror. Then he tugged one down, eyes wide. In it, Vex was beaming, her arms wrapped around the neck of a St. Bernard that was almost the size of her.

“She really was… alone before us,” Drake said quietly.

She had been.

Just an omega and her dog, living in a place like this…

Vex’s tear-streaked face haunted my vision as I stared around numbly. Drake and Rook were arguing and Ebony was rummaging through drawers.

I couldn’t move, grief suddenly overwhelming me.

This tiny pocket of space that was her—all of her—in every crack and colour.

My mate.

There was something harrowing about it.

Propped up against the mirror was a board covered in more photos and clippings. I picked it up, staring at the coloured collage as I sat down on her bed.

It was titled:‘Vex and Aisha’s impossible dreams’.She’d taken a marker and crossed out the ‘im’ in the word ‘impossible’. Beside it was a clipped quote:“Dare to dream.”

There was a photo of stone steps leading up to a temple, surrounded by trees on a sunny day. Vex had pinned the words: ‘Meet the temple monkeys in Kathmandu.’

There was a beautiful photo of the Grand Canyon at dawn and pinned to that one were the words:‘Take momma’s ashes and sing her lullaby at dawn.’That one was crossed out, and marked complete. Beside it was a Polaroid selfie of Vex and Aisha at the Grand Canyon.

A photo of a recording studio was labelled with:‘Produce one song that sounds kind of half decent and someone might want to listen to’. I couldn’t help a small smile, though it fell away at the next one.

There was a picture of a classic perfume.‘Go on a date with a guy rich enough to buy me Lava and Ashes Perfume on a first date’. She’d crossed that one out. I scowled. That was unnecessary, we could buy her enough of those for a lifetime.

There was more, though, a dream house, a dream nest—to which she’d stuck a dozen little clippings of things she might buy if she had the money.

I glanced around the room briefly, stomach clenching. It was nothing like the nest in her pictures. I could see echoes of it, weak attempts. Edison bulbs were traded for tacky, coloured christmas lights across her vanity, only half of which worked. Her photo wall was cracking, just an old cork board that looked halfway to its grave. Blankets were ratty and thin, the huge bed was, instead, cramped, even for a one person, and the mattress was caving in. She had four pillows, all worn and old.

It was the last dream on the board, though, that truly did me in. In the bottom right, was a clipping of us. Pinned to it was her scrawled handwriting that said:‘Meet the Crimson Fury Pack.’There was an arrow toward it with another scrawled note.‘Thank them for speaking up about gold packs.’

I set it down, staggering to my feet. The world spun, and I made for the hallway, looking both ways until I saw the cracked door. I headed for it and found a grimy bathroom. Crashing to my knees before the toilet just in time, I threw up violently.

I could have fixed this. We could have given her everything she dreamed of. Instead, I’d left her shivering on her knees, night after night, believing I didn’t want her.

Now…were we too late?

She was gone. Alone and terrified and still somehow fighting. Battling hopelessness with a strength displayed in every inch of her room.

Someone was crouched next to me, hand on my shoulder.

Caramel and brandy.

“You alright?” Rook asked as I finally leaned back.

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