Page 67 of His Gentle Omega
Sex and Shay. Both of us. Together. Merged into an intoxicating mixture that wound around me.
Pulling my phone out of my pocket, I blindly pressed the button for Seth. I needed my bestie.
“Why the fuck do I always forget to not go to the grocery store on a Friday night,” he whined when he answered. “It’s like the wild west in here.”
My hiccupped sob was my only response.
“B? What the fuck is happening? Are you okay?” he demanded, and all I could do was sob noisily into the phone. There was no way I could possibly speak. If I said it out loud, it made it all real. And I very much wanted to stay cocooned in the sweet-smelling sheet that smelled like Shay, pretending my life hadn’t just been ripped to shreds.
“I’m on my way,” Seth assured me. “Just tell me if you are hurt. Do I need to call 9-1-1?”
I could hear him running to his car, the sounds of the grocery store fading. Of impatient shoppers, and screaming kids, and the dinging of items being scanned.
“Not…hurt. Not…physically,” I finally managed to sob. “He’s gone!”
The sound of Seth’s car engine roaring to life filled the phone. “Wasn’t that the plan? He was moving into Gabe’s, right?”
“No!” Wailing, I sounded on the verge of hysterics. “He’sgonegone. He doesn’t want me.”
Okay, I was aware that wasn’t exactly what Shay had said, but it was the best I could manage word-wise that Seth would understand right now.
“I’m going to fucking serve him his balls on a plate!” Seth declared sharply, banging his hand against the steering wheel. “I don’t give a fat fuck if he is Asher’s brother or not. Nobody, and I mean nobody, gets to not want you, Benny. Mofo is going to get taught.”
“Seth,” gasping, I laugh-cried at my besties fierceness and loyalty, “it wasn’t like that. I understand why he’s doing it. But it still fucking sucks, big time, and it still fucking hurts.”
“Ugh, I hate when you won’t let me maim someone for you,” Seth sighed into the phone, sounding completely put out. “I’ll be there in a few with wine and chocolate.”
“And tacos.” Because tacos made everything better, even a broken heart.
“Duh, that goes without saying. Love you, B.”
“Love you too, Sethy.”
Chapter Twenty-Two
Bennett
My phone rang and I answered it without looking–because that would require me to open my eyes and I just couldn’t–thinking it was Seth wanting to know how many tacos I wanted.
“’lo?” My voice sounded terrible from crying, raspy and snotty, and I knew I probably looked as bad as I sounded. I was an ugly crier and always had been. My nose got all red and splotchy, my eyes got red and swollen, and I knew tomorrow morning I would have the headache from hell.
“Benny, baby? Is that you? Are you sick?”
My omega dad’s voice in my ear had me sighing. I really, really wasn’t up for talking to him tonight. Swallowing around another sigh–this one of annoyance–I braced myself for the ensuing conversation, which would go one of two ways. He either wanted to gush over a new boyfriend, or he needed money.
It wasn’t that I didn’t love my dad; I did. We were just two very different people. He made choices I didn’t understand. But he was my dad and he had raised me on his own my entire life. Though I used the word raised in the loosest definition possible. I didn’t blame him for it all, though, he had been a kid himself when he had me.
“Hey Dad, it’s not a great time.” Not that me telling him that would dissuade him from the reason he had called. History had taught me it was doubtful he was just calling to check on me.
“Oh Benny, I’ve had a terrible day too,” he breezed along, not even asking why it might not be a great time for me to talk. That was nothing new either. Dad tended to live in his own little bubble that revolved mostly around him. Or whichever alpha he was hooking up with. Definitely never his only child.
“I wouldn’t have called, but you know Fridays are my bingo night, and I thought he’d be back by now. I hate to ask, Benny, but could you spare some money so I could get some groceries? I’m a little short this week.”
Pinching the bridge of my nose with two fingers, grimacing when snot dripped out my nose, I wiped it with the sheet. Gross, yeah, but I was beyond caring at this point. Because I could read between all the lines of my dad’s rambling and just what he hadn’t said. We’d been down this road so many times and I wondered when–if–it was ever going to stop.
Stop helping him and it might, my wolf snarled.
“Who took what this time, Dad?” If my voice sounded annoyed, I wasn’t even sorry. I was kind of in the middle of my own crisis at the moment, but my dad hadn’t even asked. Because he never asked, and I was the idiot for thinking he was ever going to ask.
