Page 22 of Her Knotty Alphas

Ghosts. That's what we were for the first year, and we realized that we didn't feel like a pack, not without Lizzie, and all went our separate ways. I had just gotten my certification in Alpha Control so I could join the academy for Omega Crimes Bureau and dove headfirst into my career. Hank went and started his own magazine, which I'm pretty sure is the one that my brother's mate works for. Jamie still teaches high school geometry if I remember correctly, and Stanford sells used cars down in Sunset Bay.

Given that Hank is the only one that's still local that I know about, I should start with him. Even though he's the one who seemed to take it the hardest out of all of us.

Unease turning in my gut, I pull up Hank's contact information and hit call. We send each other the obligatory holiday texts and check in once a year, but we haven't seen each other in person in a little over ten years.

The phone rings once, twice, three times, and I'm almost afraid he's not going to answer. Finally, in the middle of the fourth ring, he picks up. "Enzo?"

To my surprise, there's the sound of children playing and multiple people in the background. "Yeah, hey, Hank."

"Is everything good, brother?" He sounds rightfully concerned, considering the last time we talked on the phone was years ago.

"Yeah, it's all good. I just…I moved back. To Starbrook city. I'm the new criminology professor. Was wondering if you have time for lunch today? I know it's last minute, but—"

"Um, hold on a second Enz." The sound behind him grows muffled like he's holding a hand over the receiver. Then he's back. "Hey, yeah, that's fine. I got some stuff I have to catch you up on too."

Swallowing roughly, I nod, even though he can't see me. "Sure. Sounds great. You want to do Rosa's Diner?"

"Just like old times." I can hear the smile in his voice. "See you there in thirty?"

I confirm and we hang up, leaving me staring at the phone. Is it possible that Hank, the one who seemed the most destroyed by Lizzie's disappearing act, has found happiness and a family after all? Does that mean that there really is hope for me too?

Sliding onto the seat of the red vinyl booth across from Hank like I'd done so many times before is a surreal experience. It feels like just yesterday we were a couple of young twenty-somethings ordering way too many cheese fries after a school football game. A memory he's clearly tried to replicate by ordering all the appetizers they have and both of us sodas.

"Enzo. It's good to see you." Hank gives me a sad smile, and for the first time I wonder if it's not that he's remembering what we lost, but because he feels sorry for me.

I should tell him that it's good to see him too. Ask him how the magazine is going. Ask if he's heard from Laurent and Stanford. Instead, the question that's been burning in the back of my mind the last thirty minutes flies out.

"Do you have a pack?"

He looks at me, startled for a moment, before his expression calms, and he nods. "Well, that is what I wanted to catch up on. I do. I found my true scent matched omega…and pack."

My heart nearly pounds out of my chest. He…found his scent match? So he wouldn't be matched with Hannah. There were kids in the background, I know there were. He didn'tjustfind his match.

"How long ago?"

"Ten years."

Tenyears?

"I…" Shaking my head, I run a hand through my graying hair. "I'm so, so happy for you, Hank. But why wouldn't you tell me? Ten years? Why isn't it all over the media? And also…how do you know it's real when we thought that the first time?"

He gives me a shrug, entirely unrepentant of the huge secret he's kept from me for the last decade. "We're private people. I go to great lengths to keep my packmates, omega and children out of the spotlight. I didn't tell you because…" Now is when there's a flicker of guilt in his expression. "Well, honestly, Enzo, I neverfelt like I wasreallya part of the pack. I had chalked it up to being a scent sympathetic match with Lizzie, but she claimed it was a true match. Who was I to rock the boat? And then…" he sighs, shaking his head. "I felt guilty. It's my fault she left—"

"What?" I ask, my voice sharp. "What do you mean it's your fault?"

"The night she left…I caught her going through my office, looking through my drawers. I accused her of…" he shakes his head again, "I accused her of trying to steal from us, and she deflected and left. She never told me why she was in my office, but no matter how many times I combed through our bank statements, I couldn't find any missing money. When she left, she promised she wouldn't tell you guys I was the reason she left, if I didn't make a fuss about her leaving. She didn't give me a choice. But I ruined it for all of you, making your actual scent match leave and then finding my own, I felt too guilty to tell you—"

"Don't…don't blame yourself, Hank." I mutter, rubbing my eyes. I need some fucking coffee. "I…I found my scent match too. Last night. I thought maybe she'd be matched with all of us, but…"

"If we've both found different scent matches, then it's not likely she's matched to Stanford and Laurent." He finishes for me.

"Right." I bury my face in my hands. "Do you think we were even a real pack, Hank? Or were we just a few guys who got swept up in an omegas pheromones?"

"Are you sure she's a true match?" He asks softly, eating a cheese fry.

"I am," I swallow roughly, "all feelings for Hannah blow what I felt for Lizzie out of the water. But somehow, it feels like a betrayal to her if I act on it—"

"No, Enzo," Hank says sharply. "Lizzie made her choice. I want you to look back and remember if you ever felt an actual connection to Lizzie outside of the urge to rut. Consider the possibility that the reason you were so distraught was because you thought you'd lost your chance at a scent match."

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