Page 8 of Talk About… Trouble

“She’s not my omega. We’re not a scent match.”

My best friend went through ten different shades of emotions, his excitement dropping, horror washing over his face. He looked sick and deflated all at once.

Everything I was feeling was reflected right back at me.

“No, this is—” He stumbled over his words, none of it making sense as he shook his head.

I did my best to put on a smile, clapping him on the arm and giving his shoulder a squeeze. “Go get your omega. I’m not going to stand in your way. You know how packs work. We thought we were a pack, but maybe we were just really good friends and never meant to be one.”

“No, Nash—” he tried to argue, but the way his eyes darted back towards her told me that he wasn’t going to argue for long. They always described how there was this visceral, primal urge to get close to your omega when you found them. I could see the struggle in the way his body was tense yet rocking her way. He was stuck between being my friend and being her alpha.

Yet, there was never going to be a need to choose. Our paths simply weren’t in alignment.

The fact I was so calm right now should have me freaking out, but honestly I was a bit numb still with shock.

“There’s no choice, Jesse. It’s not a ‘me or her’ situation. Go get your omega. You’ll find your pack. We’ll still be friends. That won’t change.”

“Fuck,” he cursed before finally giving in and walking that way.

I was glued to the spot, unable to move a single muscle as I watched the scene unfold. Jesse approached the omega. Herback was still turned, but as she caught his scent, she whipped around, eyes widening before she let out a squeal and literally jumped into his arms.

Simple as that. They found each other and there was no denying the chemistry.

The same chemistry we would never have.

Fuck.

His grin was brighter than I think I’d ever seen it as he spun her around, burying his head in her neck as they whispered to each other in a moment far too intimate for a small-town grocery store.

Everyone around them melted on the spot as they watched the couple find their scent-matched mate.

That was when I was finally able to move, stumbling out of the door and back towards Whittaker Brews, where my truck was.

The way that I was light-headed and stumbling was probably a sign that I didn’t need to get in my truck.

But I didn’t know what else to do.

Everything I thought about my future—my best friend, my pack—it was all wrong.

Now, I didn’t know what to think.

Somehow I managed to make my way back inside the bar. My brothers looked up, alarmed. I couldn’t make out what they were saying to me thanks to my pulse thundering in my ears, but soon they were right in front of me. Maverick’s strong arms squeezed my shoulders, trying to get me to focus on them, while Cameron had his hand on the back of my head.

“Hey, breathe,” Cameron tried, but it was useless. I hadn’t realized that I was barely breathing at this point, but my head was spinning even worse, and I was wavering on my feet.

“Breathe!” Maverick barked out, putting every bit of authority he had in his tone.

Something about his loud, booming voice caused me to gulp in a greedy breath of air, then take another.

After a few normal breaths, the thundering slowed to just a pounding. The dizziness was fading, but my world was still crashing around me.

Oxygen wasn’t going to fix that.

“Jesse’s not my pack.”

It was all I managed to choke out, but it was enough.

“How?” Cameron managed, but Maverick didn’t question it.

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