Page 43 of Omega's Fire

There has to be another way.

The bus back towards campus is crowded, bodies pressed together in the late afternoon rush. I stand, gripping the overhead bar as the vehicle sways and jerks through traffic. My mind drifts to Nash again. Will he help me when he finds out?

The thought is almost laughable. He had me dragged from my bed in handcuffs. He’d probably just use the pregnancy to try entrap me.

I haven’t heard from him, but then I have blocked him on every channel I have: my phone number, Whatsapp, email, all my social media accounts.

At least he has never turned up at my door. For all the man’s many faults—and he has many—, after that initial push at the cottage and that farcical bonding ceremony, he’s mostly respected my decision to walk away.

The squat comes into view as I round the corner from the bus stop. I let myself in, drop my messenger bag on the floor and sink onto the edge of the mattress, suddenly exhausted.

I should be celebrating. The injunction is filed. I’ve taken the first step to protect my child’s future as best I can. Instead, I feel hollow, uncertain. I haven’t solved the housing problem, the money problem, the how-do-I-raise-a-baby-alone problem.

One thing at a time, I remind myself. First, secure legal protection. Then worry about the rest.

I allow myself ten minutes of rest before forcing myself back to my feet. I need to grab dinner, maybe review some notes for class tomorrow. I’m determined to stay on track with my law degree. Now more than ever, I need that degree. I need the security and opportunities it will provide for me and my child.

The campus cafeteria is usually quiet this time of evening. I can grab something quick and head back before exhaustion claims me completely.

The walk across campus is peaceful. Dusk settles over the buildings, painting everything in soft golden light. Students lounge on the quad, enjoying the last weeks of summer weather. A frisbee arcs overhead. Laughter drifts on the breeze. It all feels so normal, so ordinary, while my life has become anything but.

I cut through the humanities quad, taking the shortcut past the psychology building. It’s faster, and my feet are killing me.

I’m halfway across the open space when I see him.

Nash Thorndike stands on the steps of the psychology building, briefcase in hand, deep in conversation with a professor I recognize from first year. Nash looks exactly the same—tall, gorgeous, infuriating.

I freeze, instinct telling me to turn and go the other way. But it’s too late.

Nash looks up, and our eyes lock across the quad.

The world narrows to just us. The sounds of campus fade. My heart pounds so hard I’m certain he can hear it even from this distance. His expression changes, surprise giving way to something I can’t read.

His lips part. He takes a half-step in my direction.

I turn and walk away, my heart still thundering in my chest. I don’t run—I’m too proud for that—but I move as quickly as my tired body allows, putting as much distance between us as possible.

What is he doing here? On campus? Questions swirl as I retreat, but one certainty crystallizes: Nash Thorndike is back in my orbit. And everything just got infinitely more complicated.

Nash

My office on campus is supposed to be a temporary space for a temporary position, but it’s mine for now and I’m hoping that I’ll be able to stay. I’d forgotten how much I loved lecturing.

The office they’ve put me in is tiny. It’s never belonged to anyone long term. This is where they put visiting professors and anyone who needs a space who isn’t that important.

A year ago, I’d have been able to command a bigger space. The university would never have dreamed of shoving me into a space not much bigger than a closest, but then my reputation isn’t what it was a year ago.

I’d also have been given someone to do the basic admin work for me. I wouldn’t be sitting at this scarred desk, stapling together the handouts for my next lecture.

I saw Leo yesterday. On campus.

He’d turned away and practically ran in the other direction, but even at the distance, I could tell he didn’t look well. He looked exhausted. It made my heart clench. I’m his alpha. I’m supposed to be looking after him and I’m not.

Yet, I’m completely sure that if I had approached him, he would have run away a lot faster.

My phone buzzes, mercifully interrupting my thoughts..

“Thorndike,” I answer, wedging the phone between my ear and shoulder as I continue stapling hand outs.

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