Page 144 of Altius
“But not yourself?”
His head jerked to the side, neither agreeing nor disagreeing. “I’m part of the problem.”
“How very self-aware of you,” I said with a golf clap, earning a fierce glare from Owen. “Admittance is the first step to healing. But what are you going to do about it?”
“Does your therapist still practice?”
Genuinely taken aback, I stared at him. I’d tried to get him to go to therapy for years.
“I think so,” I said, unable to keep curiosity from leaking into my voice.
“Don’t look at me like that.” Owen straightened his tie. “I know how much it’s helped you and Alijah. So maybe…” He exhaled. “Maybe it can be a positive influence for me, too.”
When I tried to hug him again, Owen clicked his tongue in disgust and hurried down the stairs.
“Send me the contact info.”
“After you get back to Alijah.”
“Fine.” He paused, shoulders squared with tension, but didn’t look at me. “Are we—”
Owen’s voice cracked for the first time in our long friendship.
“All good, man. So long as you communicate and follow through.”
He gave a stiff nod and continued down the stairs.
We’d weathered that storm. And now I reeked of boxwoods and overboiled, sour tea.
Heading toward my bathroom for a much-needed shower, I composed a text to Morgan.
Mission accomplished. Said he’ll talk to Alijah.
I felt for the prickly idiot. Not everyone was blessed with street smarts. Wyatt took every bit that the Redmond gene pool had to offer, just like Owen hogged all the book smarts.
Even fewer people had Morgan’s balance of common sense and intelligence.
And then there’s me, I thought, turning on the shower and blowing a cheeky kiss at my reflection.
Pretty damn close to perfection. And the brains keeping this shambolic pack in one piece.
Thirty-Five
Morgan
Iexited my omega-only ride share wearing the jeans and black sweater I’d reserved for socializing—and look, here I was, going out on a not-date in San Diego on a Friday night. With Alijah, my not-boyfriend, who was very much still pissed at me.
What could possibly go wrong?
My phone vibrated. It was a phone emoji from Wyatt with a question mark. I dialed him right away.
“Baby,” he purred into my ear. “Your text this morning sure kicked the hornet’s nest. Joaquin got into it with me, then Owen got into it with him. And don’t tell them I told you, but Owen said he’s going to try therapy. You know the garbage our mom spews about emotions and touchy-feely stuff… It’s monumental. Beyond huge.”
“What?” I’d expected my message might cause some friction, but outright chaos? Not so much.
“Yeah. Quite the fireworks show. Oh, and guess whose squad’s killer start to their season is getting featured on the news? One clue—his pheromones are your favorite.”
I had to laugh. “Isn’t that supposed to be my line?”
