The Light in Us

31. Fallon

31

Fallon

I ’m not breathing as I push open my front door a few hours later. I stand in the doorway for several long minutes.

I’m waiting.

Waiting for Shaun to jump out, for Ellis to be leaning against the counter. Or for Rory to be there with a sad expression on his face.

Because it feels like they must know. How can they not know something is going on, when I feel so… changed?

But the house is as empty and cold as it always is.

My body is singing, little streaks of electricity in my veins. I drop the groceries to the floor and step over them, going to the mirror.

Even my face looks different, a mixture of exhaustion and exhilaration. But my eyes are bright, shining, as I flick on the lamp and head back to sort out the groceries.

I wish I could talk to someone about it. About the chaos of this morning, and how my heartbreak settled into something closer to longing as we all curled together and watched movies. And Fox – I’ve never met an alpha like that. One who radiates dominance from every pore, yet bolted into the room with twenty different types of sandwich in his hands and blushing cheeks so I could pick one I liked best.

Yes, you have.

The thought has me smiling, the usual grief that threatens at the thought of my dad settling into something softer. Still painful, but appreciative.

They’re still not yours.

My smile slowly melts away, but I cling on to the feeling in my chest as I get rid of my scent-soaked dress, throwing it into the wash and climbing under the shower.

No, they’re not mine. But seeing how they are with Teddy – and even with me, a strange omega… it’s giving me something I haven’t had for a long time.

Hope.

There are better things out there than this. A better life. I just need to reach out for it. And now that Teddy knows I’m part of a pack, the guilt… it lessens slightly. At least he knows that I’m planning to leave, to run.

But he’s keeping it from his alpha for me. And I find myself hating the idea of splintering their pack in any way, even though Fox seemed to work with it.

The frown stays on my face as I dry myself, slipping into my only other dress and start dinner with my teeth sinking into my lip.

I get to go back tomorrow.

The thought has me smiling at the Smith pack when they come home, even Ellis. His eyes narrow, but he doesn’t say anything, doesn’t complain as he eats dinner and leaves again for a late meeting.

I push myself back from the table, clearing the empty plates. “I have a bit of a headache. I’ll clean up and go to bed.”

Shaun follows me over to the sink, his cold fingers feeling my forehead. “You have a slight temperature. Any heat spikes?”

When I shake my head, he backs off. But Rory takes his place, crowding me against the counter and taking the plate from my hands. “I don’t want you to take the suppressants. I think you should have a proper heat, Fallon.”

His hands settle on my hips, and my body turns to ice as he starts running his fingers through my hair. “It’s not a good time.”

“For who?” He places his teeth over the pulse in my neck, grazing my skin before he pulls away. His face is flushed, a ruddy red. “You don’t do anything. We’ll decide when it’s a good time.”

The jab doesn’t even register.

I don’t want him to touch me.

The pain that follows me everywhere doesn’t react to his touch. If anything, it grows stronger as Rory’s hands cup my skin. My breathing speeds up. “Please, Rory. I don’t feel very well.”

I don’t. My lie becomes true as he reaches down, lips pressing to my collarbone. The feel of his tongue makes nausea swirl in my stomach. “I’ll make you feel better.”

It sounds like a threat.

But a hand grips Rory’s shoulder, pulling him back. “She said she’s not well. Go to bed, Fallon.”

And for once, I’m actually grateful to Shaun as he hauls Rory away. Rory snaps something at him that I don’t catch as I dart out of the kitchen and to the bathroom.

My tears mix with the running water as I grab a cloth and wipe over the area where his mouth touched me, bending over the sink. I don’t stop until my skin is a deep red, and I can’t smell him on me anymore.

I’ve never had that response to Rory before. Apathy, certainly. Numbness. Sometimes even relief, his touch at least staving off the dull pain that hounds my every waking moment.

But never this violent surge of repulsion that sends me scurrying into my bed, yanking the covers over my head and wrapping myself up.

I stare at the door until my eyes force themselves shut.