Page 47 of His Problem Alpha
His words hit me hard. I can’t breathe for a second. He delivers them with such casual cruelty, looking right through me as he says it, denying every moment of connection we’ve shared. It’s like the last few weeks never happened. Like the way he held me through my mini-cycle, the way he panicked during the pregnancy scare, the way he marked me as his—all of it was just an elaborate performance.
But I know better. I’ve seen the real Alex—in the quiet moments between heartbeats, in the way his hands shake when he touches me like he can’t believe I’m real, in the soft, vulnerable sounds he makes when he thinks I’m asleep. This cold, empty shell isn’t him. It’s a mask. A defense mechanism so extreme it’s like emotional suicide.
“Bullshit,” I say, the word sharp with sudden clarity. “This isn’t you. This is fear.”
His eyes widen fractionally—the first real reaction I’ve gotten—before narrowing again. “You don’t know me.”
“I do,” I insist, stepping closer. “I know you better than you think. And this—” I gesture at the space between us, “—this isn’t about me at all, is it? This is about Finn. About whatever happened when you met him.”
He flinches at the name, a full-body recoil that confirms my suspicion. “Leave it alone, Devon.”
“No,” I say, my voice stronger now. “I’m not going to leave it alone. I’m not going to let you push me away because you’re scared.”
“I’m not scared,” he says, but the lie is so transparent it’s almost laughable. “I just don’t want this anymore. I don’t want you.”
“Liar,” I say softly. “Your mouth is saying one thing, but your body, your scent—they’re telling me something else entirely. You’re terrified right now.”
“Get out,” he says, his voice a low growl. “Just… get out of my space.”
“Fine,” I say, stepping back. “But this isn’t over. I’m not giving up on you, Alex. Not that easily.”
I turn and walk away, my heart pounding in my chest. He doesn’t call after me. I didn’t expect him to. But something has shifted. I’m not confused anymore. I’m just determined—surprisingly determined—to get through to him.
He’s trying to push me away because he’s scared. Because whatever Finn said to him triggered something so deep, so painful, that his only response is to shut down completely. To isolate himself. To push away anyone who might care about him.
Well, too bad. I’m not that easy to get rid of.
---
In my room, I pace the floor, my mind racing. I need information. I need to understand what I’m up against. And since Alex won’t tell me, I need to go around him.
Finn. The name is a key to a door Alex has locked and barricaded. Who is he? An ex? A friend? Family? Whatever he is, he knows something about Alex that I don’t. Something that broke him with five simple words in a text message.
I grab my phone, hesitating for only a second before making a decision. This feels like an invasion of privacy, but I’m out of options. Alex left his phone on the counter earlier. If I’m quick, I can check his recent calls, find Finn’s number.
I slip out of my room, heart pounding. Alex is still in the living room, back to staring at nothing. His phone sits on the kitchen counter, black screen face-up. I grab it, my fingers trembling slightly as I press the power button.
Password protected. Of course. The lock screen is a stock photo of a forest at night. Dark and isolated. Just like him right now.
I try his birthday. Wrong. I try the date he moved in. Wrong again. On a hunch, I try Ethan—the name he’d mentioned during our fight. The phone unlocks.
My stomach drops. Ethan. His brother? A friend? Someone important enough to be his password, but someone he’d said he "got killed." I’m starting to understand something I’m not sure I want to know.
I check his recent calls. There—Finn Anderson. I memorize the number and put the phone back exactly how I found it. My heart races with adrenaline and guilt.
Back in my room, I send a text to the number:
I don't know what you said to Alex, but you broke him. He's shutting me out, and I need to understand. Please meet me.
I add the address of a coffee shop a few blocks away, neutral territory where Alex won’t accidentally stumble upon us. I hit send before I can second-guess myself.
The reply comes almost immediately:
Who is this?
I hesitate, then type:
Devon. His roommate. It's important.
