Page 18 of The Rejected Omega

“Is that all?” I’m used to doctors being the ones in a hurry to leave, but Kanata’s sharp, knowing gaze is peeling me open like an onion.

“There’s one more thing. I’ve known Mac Masters a long time, and he’s a good man. But it’s not unheard of for parents to oppose mate pairings they deem…unsuitable. Are you under any pressure from your alpha’s father to keep your mated status a secret?”

I shake my head. “No. Mr. Masters has been very helpful. He’s in favor of telling his son.”

When I check out at the front desk, the receptionist tells me the bill’s been taken care of. I shoot daggers at Mac and take the receipt and my appointment card. We ride back to Crestwood in silence until Mac misses the turn to my house.

“Where are you going?”

“We’re getting your meds. Unless you’ve changed your mind?”

“No…but I don’t even know how much they’re going to cost.”

“I’ll pay for them. It’s the least I can do.”

My first instinct is to protest, but I keep my mouth shut. I need all the help I can get right now. Once I’m far away from Connor, I can figure out a solution that doesn’t rely on Mac Master’s wallet.

CHAPTER SEVEN

I manageto avoid the classes I share with Connor for another week with a note from Dr. Kanata, but I can’t keep missing lectures. No one’s notes are up to my standards.

The suppressants make me foggy and uncoordinated, like my depth perception is the slightest bit off. In art, my hand shakes when I try to draw, and focusing in class is harder than ever. I’ve taken up counting ceiling tiles and staring holes into the paint to pass the time.

Each glimpse of Connor’s tall frame in the hallway sends panic shooting through my chest. Any time I spot him, I turn around and take another route to class. But the gnawing ache of the bond is muted now. Tolerable.

That wasn’t to say that Connor lacked persistence. He showed up at my house before school every day, just like he did before everything changed, holding a large coffee from my favorite spot.

After watching him sit in my driveway until long past the late bell two days in a row, I started leaving out the back door, climbing over the chain-link fence, and walking two miles tothe next bus stop. Two weeks after the ceremony, he finally manages to pin me down.

It’s gym, my last period of the day, and I’ve been late getting out recently. I used to be fine changing in front of the other girls, but I’m covered in circular bruises from my daily suppressant shots, and my mating gland on my shoulder is red and swollen—a tell-tale sign that I’ve been through a heat recently.

I’ve taken to running a few extra laps around the track after Coach blew the whistle so I could shower and change by myself.

Today, I shower and sit on the perforated metal locker bench in my towel, staring into space with an unfocused gaze. Just a little dissociation while I air dry. I hate putting clothes on when my skin is still damp, and the bench reminds me too much of the one in the tent on the ceremony grounds. I blink when the motion-activated lights flicker out, casting me in darkness. I’m tempted to see how long I can go without reactivating them. Eventually they’d find me here, calcified to this bench like one of the victims of Pompeii.

The click of one of the heavy fire doors at the gym’s entrance pulls me out of my trance, and I quickly dress. I’m leaving the changing room, pulling still-damp hair out of my collar, when I see him.

My stomach clenches. He’s supposed to be at swim practice.

Connor’s leaning against a squat rack, arms crossed over his chest. He’s wearing his trademark dark wash jeans and a clean white tee that hugs his biceps and highlights the golden tan of his skin. He looks fucking delicious, and it isn’t fair.

“You’re ignoring me, Crane.”

I don’t respond. Before, I would have quipped at him. Something snarky, like, ‘astute observation.’

But that was before.

I keep walking toward the exit. I can’t do this. I’m not ready to talk to him, to pretend like everything is okay. Right now, it doesn’t feel like I’ll ever be ready.

“Oh no you don’t.”

He crosses the space between us in an instant, grabs the strap of my backpack, and spins me around. “You’re not leaving until we solve this. Never go to bed angry, remember?”

It was something we said when hashing out minor conflicts in the past, often accompanied by jokes that we squabbled like an old married couple. Now, it stings to hear.

I close my eyes and take a deep breath, then immediately regret it. My fogged-out omega hindbrain stirs at his scent, woken from her drugged slumber.Alpha?

NO!I spit back at her.

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