Page 4 of Feeling the Heat: Part Two
There’s a text from Ambrose and a voice memo from Jackson.
I’m not sure if it’s worse that they haven’t stoppedreaching out or if it’d be more painful to think it was easy for them to forget me.
I told myself to go no contact. I told them I couldn’t be with their pack and the courtship needed to end, and stopped replying. I thought I was doing the right thing, but every time a notification with one of their names pops up, it’s a dagger in my heart. I’m hurting them as much as being with their pack hurt me, but I can’t let them in again. There’s no point. We’ll never work. River made certain of that.
Anger swirls with my sadness and guilt. Fuck him for doing this to all of us. I’ve spent countless nights trying to understand his actions, shoulder aching where his teeth have permanently marred my skin.
A whine bursts out of me as soon as I think about the bond mark. Imagine my surprise when I found out what he’d done during a visit with my new doctor. Having them explain it to me like a child and not so subtly chastising me for being irresponsible with a life-altering decision was a low point of my life.
Why did River bond me? Why did he tie us together when he wanted me out of his life? The staggering cruelty of it gives me the strength to delete the most recent messages from his packmates.
I should block them. Leaving this line of communication open only reopens the wounds in my heart every time they reach out, but I’m not strong enough to do it.
With their messages deleted, my notifications are empty save a text from Astrid checking in and sending her love. She’s on a family vacation at a massive theme park right now. A trip she invited me on, but I declined because of the damn interviews I had yesterday. I should’ve gone. Then I could at least be riding rollercoasters and watching fireworkswhile I contemplate my pathetic existence instead of doing it alone in my nest.
My dad and brother would be happy for me to go visit them, but that won’t fix anything. More than likely, it’ll make me feel worse because ever since I told them about my new designation, they’ve been awkward. It’s like they don’t know who I am or how to talk to me now. I don’t need a reminder that even my family thinks I’m fragile and different now that I’m an omega.
A small, bitter part of me wants to call the number Alex gave me and rant about how pissed I am that he gave me hope, then yanked it away. My omega really loves the thought of chewing the alpha out, but after rereading his email for the tenth time, it’s clear he was upset about the decision. Yelling at him won’t accomplish anything other than severing the tenuous professional connection we still have.
After more tears and an angry rant in my shower, I resign myself to looking for PR jobs in other locations. I don’t want to move, but besides Astrid, there’s nothing keeping me here.
It’s probably better this way. It’ll be easier to start over when there isn’t a pack I’m craving only a fifteen-minute drive away, and constant reminders of the time we spent together and my life before I became an omega everywhere I look.
Besides, I know Astrid loves me, but my friendship has been a burden since I revealed. All I’ve done is take and take from her well of emotional support, with nothing to give in return. I don’t want to be that person, and I don’t know if I can stop if I don’t make some major changes.
Dammit. I hate this. I don’t want to tear up all the roots I planted here, but the soil has been tainted irreparably.
My eyes glazeover as I read through yet another job listing for a PR consultant role on the other side of the country. My phone rings, startling me out of my job hunt fugue state, and I grab it off the arm of the couch, prepared to dismiss whatever spam caller is bothering me.
But it’s not a scammer. It’s Lauren.
My stomach lurches. I haven’t heard anything from her since I got fired. Granted, I never reached out to tell her what happened because I was too distraught and embarrassed. In the subsequent months, I’ve convinced myself that what I thought was friendship was just a poor omega trying to be kind to my pathetic ass.
I consider being a coward and letting it go to voicemail to see what she wants, but I force myself to answer.
“Hello?” I hate how nervous my voice sounds and the surge of anxiety that accompanies the split second of waiting to hear her speak.
“Hey Camille! I know it’s the middle of the workday, so I hope I’m not disturbing you.” I can’t get a read on Lauren’s tone. She sounds slightly out of breath. Maybe a little nervous. What would she have to be nervous about?
“Oh, no, that’s okay,” I mumble, not wanting to explain to this badass, competent omega that I’m still jobless three months after getting fired from Pulse. “What’s up?” I cringe when my words come out unintentionally clipped.
“First of all, I’m sorry.” Lauren’s voice wavers. “I’ve been a terrible friend.”
I don’t know how to respond to that. It’s not at all what I expected, so I mumble a dismissive, “Don’t worry about it, I didn’t think that,” as I process that she considers herself my friend and I was wrong for thinking otherwise.
“I know it’s not a good excuse, but when I got back from visiting Rekha’s parents, you were gone and River had quit, so Iassumed you decided to pursue something romantic with him after all. I was a little hurt that you didn’t tell me about it, or reach out to me, but I know how stressful and complicated things have been, so I figured you needed space to get stuff sorted out. But this morning I was scrolling on socials and I saw this video… It talked about you. Had your picture and name and was spewing some nonsense about omegas lying about their designation in the workplace and how we shouldn’t be allowed to work in mixed designation spaces because it’s too disruptive and we can’t be trusted.” Lauren sucks in a shaky breath, sounding on the verge of tears. “I didn’t know. I should’ve checked in with you and not assumed anything. I’m so, so sorry.”
A cacophony of emotions rises in me as Lauren speaks. It’s horrific to hear that I’m going viral enough that Lauren would encounter it in her feed. But knowing she cares about me heals something inside me I didn’t notice was hurting so much until now.
“It’s okay. I’m just as much to blame,” I croak, throat tight as I struggle not to cry. “I didn’t tell you anything because I didn’t know if we were as close as I thought we were, and I didn’t want you to have to take sides between me and your?—”
I cut myself off mid-sentence, finally processing what she said about River. “Wait, he quit?”
“Huh? Oh, River. Yeah, Rick told me he turned in his resignation the same day you left. Or at least that’s what was going around through the office grapevine. HR was squirrelly about it since it was a loss of two important employees, so again, I thought it was because of your… relationship. Clearly, I was wrong about a lot of things.” There’s a brief pause, and her voice is softer. Sadder. “Does that mean that you aren’t with him? I consoled myself by thinking you’d got swept up in some big romantic gesture and were off blissfully getting your brains banged out by your new pack.”
A pained, rueful laugh erupts from me at just how wrong she was. “No. We’re not together. I haven’t seen him since the day he got me fired.”
“What? He got you fired?! How?”
