Page 54 of His Problem Alpha
Ethan was happy. He was singing. His last moments were filled with joy—joy at helping me. That's what killed him. The very best part of him was destroyed because of me.
And now history is repeating itself. Devon, with his sharp wit and his soft heart, carrying my child. Another life I've ruined before it's even begun.
I can't do this again. I can't be the cause of more pain, more loss. I can't—
My phone buzzes in my pocket, startling me out of my spiral. I ignore it. It buzzes again, insistent. With shaking hands, I pull it out.
It's Finn.
I know you're pissed, but please call me. I'm worried about you.
I stare at the message, my vision blurring with fresh tears. Finn. My oldest friend. The one person who knew me before, who knew Ethan, who's been trying to reach me for years while I've been running from everything that reminds me of what I lost. What I destroyed.
Before I can talk myself out of it, I hit call.
He answers on the first ring. "Alex? Are you okay?"
"No," I choke out, the word barely audible. "I'm not okay. I'm so fucking far from okay."
"Where are you?" His voice is tight with concern. "Do you need me to come over?"
"I need—" My voice breaks. What do I need? Absolution? Forgiveness? A fucking time machine? "I need to talk to my parents."
There's a pause, heavy with surprise. "Your parents? Alex, you haven't spoken to them in—"
"I know." I cut him off. "I know how long it's been. That's why I need to talk to them now. Do you... do you have their number?"
Another pause. "Yeah, I have it. Are you sure about this?"
"No," I admit, wiping my face with the back of my hand. "But I have to do it anyway."
He gives me the number. I write it down with trembling fingers on a scrap of Devon's notepad I find on the counter. His handwriting is all over it, little doodles and design notes. Seeing it nearly breaks me all over again.
"Alex," Finn says, his voice gentle. "Whatever's going on, it's going to be okay."
I almost laugh. Nothing is okay. Nothing has been okay for a long time, and I just made it infinitely worse. "Thanks, Finn," I say instead. "I'll... I'll call you later."
I hang up before he can say anything else. Before he can offer more comfort I don't deserve. I stare at the number in my hand, my parents' number, and for a moment I think I can't do it. It's been too long. There's too much unsaid between us.
But then I look at the test, still clutched in my other hand. Two pink lines. A life I helped create and then abandoned. Another person I've failed.
I dial the number before I can lose my nerve.
It rings once. Twice. Three times. I'm about to hang up, a mix of relief and disappointment washing over me, when there's a click.
"Hello?" My mother's voice. Older than I remember, but unmistakably hers. The sound of it hits me like a physical blow.
"Mom?" My voice cracks on the single syllable.
There's a sharp intake of breath. "Alex? Is that you?"
"Yeah," I manage, my throat closing up. "It's me."
"Oh my god," she breathes. "Oh my god, Alex. Are you okay? Where are you? Are you hurt?"
The concern in her voice is like a knife to the heart. After everything I've done, after all this time, her first thought is still for my wellbeing. I don't deserve it. I don't deserve her.
"I'm not hurt," I say, the words coming out choked. "Not physically. But Mom, I... I fucked up. I fucked up so bad."
