Page 46 of His Problem Alpha
"Your brother?" he whispers, his voice barely audible. "Alex, what are you talking about?"
"It doesn't matter," I say, suddenly so exhausted I feel like I could sleep for a year. "Just... find someone who deserves you. Someone who won't ruin your life."
"That's not your decision to make," he says, stepping toward me again, his hands lifting as if to reach for me. "Let me help you. Whatever this is, we can—"
"No!" The word explodes from me, raw and desperate. "You can't help me. No one can. Just leave it alone, Devon. Leave me alone."
He reaches for me, his scent all worried concern and safety and home, and my whole body recoils. I flinch back, stumbling a step away like he's fire. He is. And I learned my lesson about what happens to the people who try to save me from the blaze. They just get burned alive.
Devon
For forty-eight hours, I live with a ghost who wore my roommate’s face.
Alex moved through our apartment like a shadow, his body occupying space while his mind was somewhere else entirely. Somewhere I couldn’t reach. His eyes looked through me, not at me. When I entered a room, he left it. When I spoke, he didn’t hear me. The silence between us kept growing heavier, getting worse with every conversation I tried to start and every time he looked away.
I try again this morning, setting a mug of coffee on the counter near his elbow as he stares blankly at his laptop. The screen is dark, reflecting his own empty expression back at him. His fingers hover over the keys, not typing. Not moving at all.
“Made you coffee,” I say, my voice deliberately casual. “The fancy beans you like.”
No response. Not even a flicker of acknowledgment. The mug sits untouched, steam curling into the air between us like a question mark.
“Okay, Casper,” I mutter, aiming for my usual sarcasm, but the words fall flat, swallowed by the suffocating quiet. “Rent’s still due even if you’re cosplaying as the Invisible Man.”
Nothing. Not even an eye roll. Two weeks ago, he would have fired back something equally snarky. A week ago, he would have pulled me against him and kissed the attitude right out of my mouth. Now? He might as well be in another dimension.
I watch him from the doorway, cataloging the changes. The dark circles under his eyes have deepened to bruise-like shadows. His stubble has grown past the sexy five o’clock shadow into neglected scruff that makes him look haggard. His shoulders are rigid with tension, like he’s bracing for a blow that never comes. His scent—god, his scent. It used to be warm coffee and leather and something earthy that made my knees weak. Now it’s sharp with distress, sour with old grief. It makes my nose itch and my chest hurt.
What did I do? The question loops in my head on endless repeat. What did I do wrong? Was it the pregnancy scare? Was it getting too domestic? Was I too needy during my mini-cycle? Did he finally realize I’m not worth the trouble?
You’re too much. You’ve always been too much.The familiar voice of insecurity whispers in my ear, and for once, I don’t have a snappy comeback. I see my mom’s face, her tired sigh after I’d spent twenty minutes excitedly explaining a new design concept. “Devon, honey, that’s great, but Mommy just needs five minutes of peace.” I see my ex-boyfriend, Mark, his hands thrown up in frustration. “Can you just turn it off for a minute? The sarcasm, the commentary—it’s exhausting.” No one wants to deal with all my sharp edges. Maybe Alex finally saw the real me and decided he’d rather be alone.
But that doesn’t explain the text from Finn. The way Alex had gone rigid when it came through. The way his scent had soured instantly, like he’d been gut-punched. He’s not acting this way because of me. It has to be about Finn—whoever that is.
I leave the coffee and retreat to my room, the one I haven’t slept in for weeks. It feels cold and impersonal now, like a hotel room. I sit on the edge of the bed, the mattress stiff and unfamiliar, my mind racing.
I’ve tried everything. I’ve given him space. I’ve tried to talk. I’ve left food outside his door that goes untouched. I’ve sent texts that go unread. Nothing works. He’s gone, even though his body is still here, moving through our apartment like a sleepwalker.
I can’t take it anymore. This silent treatment is worse than any fight. At least in a fight, there’s engagement. There’s emotion. This? This is like watching someone drown while standing on the shore, unable to reach them.
Enough. I’m done waiting for him to snap out of it. I’m done tiptoeing around whatever landmine Finn’s text detonated. I need answers, and if Alex won’t give them to me, I’ll find them myself.
---
I find him in the living room later that afternoon, staring blankly at his audio equipment. His fingers hover over dials he’s not adjusting. His expensive headphones hang unused around his neck. He’s not working. He’s just… existing. Barely.
“Alex,” I say, my voice soft but firm. No response. I step closer, into his line of sight. “Alex, look at me.”
His eyes flick to mine for a split second before sliding away, focusing on a point somewhere over my shoulder. It’s the most acknowledgment I’ve gotten in two days, and it feels like a victory, however small.
“We need to talk,” I say, abandoning my usual arsenal of sarcasm and deflection. This isn’t the time for shields. This is the time for direct hits. “What’s going on with you?”
He doesn’t answer, his jaw working like he’s chewing on words he doesn’t want to say.
“Did I do something wrong?” I ask, my voice embarrassingly close to pleading. “Because you’re acting like I’m poison. Just talk to me, Alex. Whatever it is, we can fix it.”
The sincerity in my voice seems to finally penetrate the fog around him. He looks at me—really looks at me—for the first time in days. What I see in his eyes makes my blood run cold. There’s nothing there. No anger, no frustration, not even sadness. Just… emptiness. It’s like looking into a house where all the lights have been turned off.
“This is what I do,” he says, his voice flat and dead. “I pretend to care until it gets too real. Maybe you should find someone who’s not broken.”
