Chapter 6: : Chapter 5

I’ve always been a light sleeper. It’s one of the things I’m grateful for, since I’m not too worried I’ll oversleep and miss Luna crying. Unless exhaustion takes over, which might be a real possibility, considering I’m doing everything alone.

Sky wakes me up a couple of times, bumping her head against the door to demand entry. Unfortunately, my bladder requires I visit the restroom during each wake-up check. Around five in the morning, I give up and leave the door pushed to the frame. At some point after that, she invites herself in and snuggles on the bed like a furry portable heater.

Not that I mind. It’s been too long since I cuddled with any living being, even if her breath leaves something to be desired. I wake up warm and toasty, but the furry beast is gone.

Light streams through the window, and when I check my phone, it’s after nine-thirty. I panic, rip back the comforter, yank on my socks, and force my slightly swollen feet into my tennis shoes.

I’ve got to get over there immediately, so I can let the movers in when they arrive.

I only plan to peek outside to make sure the truck isn’t there, but when it is, I panic a little.

Okay, a lot.

I jog out the front door and down the stairs. There’s a weird drainage ditch or something between the two houses, so I’ll have to go out to the road to be able to access my driveway.

I’m about halfway down the guys’ driveway when Arden calls out, “For the love of God, where is your coat?”

I don’t stop waddling with a purpose.

“Chelsea, stop!” Arden growls. It’s not a bark, but it does roll through my system like one.

I freeze, turning back to face him. “They’re already here. No one called!” I sound hysterical, even to my own ears, but this is bad. I need to get over there as quickly as possible.

“Arms out.” He makes it to me in three long strides and holds out a coat. Once I’m bundled up in it, he zips it for me. It’s kind of embarrassing how tight a fit it is to get it closed over my stomach, but he manages. “Hands.” I hold out my hands, and he unceremoniously yanks on a pair of men’s gloves before pulling a knit hat from under his arm. He tugs it on, pushing down my mass of hair.

“Are we good? I have to go.”

“Let me close the door, and I’ll accompany you.” He spins around, patting his thigh for Sky. She doesn’t seem like she wants to go back in, and I bolt for the street while Arden is preoccupied.

That damn ditch makes everything more complicated. Instead of walking across their lawn and into mine, I have to hit the street and then go back down my driveway. I parked on the street last night to ensure the truck would have room to back in. They definitely managed that, but they also have all my belongings piled up in front of the garage and even some on the porch, from the looks of it.

“You finally show right as we’re finishing up,” Russell says. He’s the main guy in charge. Or that’s the way it seemed yesterday.

“Why on earth didn’t you call me? I was right next door.” My voice sounds a little hysterical, but this isn’t okay.

“Listen, lady, you knew we’d be here this morning. The truck is empty. Take a look inside and sign the fucking form.” He jabs the paper at my face.

“What? I paid for you to put it away, like inside the house. I can lift some of it, but there’s no way I can move the dressers or my bed.”

“That’s not my problem. This job has been a nightmare since you demanded we park down the street to load up your old place. You’re fucking weird. This entire experience has been a pain in the ass.” He shoves the slip at my face again. “Sign the paper. The job is complete.”

“I told you why I needed discretion. I’m not signing that when my stuff is outside the house,” I hiss, taking a step back.

Only, I trip over a box. My whole body sways, but Arden places a hand on my back and helps me stabilize my center of balance.

“Are you okay?” he growls, his face appearing in front of mine. His dark eyes narrow as he studies me.

“I’m fine.”

Arden moves faster than I can track. He grabs Russell’s arm, ripping it behind the massive man and twisting. “It’s clear no one has taught you how to properly speak to a woman. It’s no matter, I’ve got a few minutes to educate you, so this issue will never arise in the future.” He looks at me. “Why don’t you head over and get out of your pajamas? Kase, Lincoln, and I will help you unpack.”

I stand, blinking and frozen in place. That seemed like a military or police type of move. That makes sense, considering they work for a personal security company.

Arden tilts his head, nodding to his house. “Off with you.”

I finally get myself together, waddling away as the other two men with Russell finally notice the commotion. That seems dangerous, but when I glance back, Arden appears to be cool and in control.

I hit the street and pick up my pace as I get close to the guys’ driveway. Speed walking at nine months pregnant isn’t really effective.

My feet hit the bottom step of the porch, and I slide a bit on a thin layer of ice, but luckily, the handrail helps me right myself. Making it up the last few steps, I don’t stop at the door. It’s not my house, but I don’t knock before letting myself in.

My instincts pull me toward the bedroom I slept in last night. My stress is high, and omegas either run or hide during a crisis.

It appears I’m doing both. Making it into the room, I bump the door closed and toe off my shoes before climbing under the covers of the bed I didn’t even make when I woke up.

I’m a terrible houseguest, but I still snuggle into the pillow, instead of handling my problems.

Being an omega complicates everything. Normal people face things head-on. When life throws a wrench in my plans, I hide and nest until I can come up with a solution.

My face heats.

These guys have gone out of their way to accommodate me, but I’m so far from their responsibility, it’s not even funny.

I owe all of them an apology, but I’m more focused on what happens if Emmett comes after me. He was relentless last time—calling, showing up at my apartment. That wasn’t normal behavior, even if the cops blew me off by saying he was harmless. The movers weren’t very understanding about my situation, either. I bet if he popped up and offered them a hundred dollars, they’d give him my new address without a second thought.

Clark never told me he had a brother. I didn’t find out until he was already dead. We’d only scratched surface-level topics in the few months we were exclusively dating.

My heart pangs.

Heartbroken isn’t the right word to describe how I felt when he ghosted me after our breakup. It was more melancholy, with a hint of sadness, because I didn’t see it coming at all, but we hadn’t been together long enough to truly be in love.

There were feelings there, though. It was the only relationship I’ve ever been in where I honestly envisioned that we could have a happy life together.

Knowing he didn’t want me around in his last few months was hard to process. I would have taken care of him, if he had let me. I spent months blaming him for going no contact. All while he was dealing with his own way more serious stuff.

Then again, I didn’t know any of that, and I’d been dealing with serious stuff too. Leading up to starting a new pack of suppressants, I’ve always experienced the same type of symptoms, and when those didn’t come, I knew something wasn’t right.

A few days after that, I realized how sore my breasts were and how nauseated I became while cooking my morning eggs.

A quick doctor’s visit confirmed that I was pregnant. Breaking the news over text and several frantic voicemails that I didn’t know if he’d ever listen to weren’t my finest moments, but I was genuinely hurt by that point. It felt vital that I make an effort to let him know.

The weeks after I found out were spent pondering my options. Initially, I was still hopeful that Clark would get back to me. I thought maybe he just needed a little extra time to process things, but he would call when he was ready. I hoped I could add his feedback to my feelings, and, together, we would see what we ended up with.

It took a while, but after a lot of soul-searching, I came to terms with reality—I’d be facing motherhood alone.

It was months later that Mr. Smith showed up on my doorstep to inform me Clark passed away. Apparently, he found out about the tumor a week before he broke up with me.

He immediately started treatment, but it wasn’t enough.

God, even thinking about it makes my chest tight.

He didn’t give up.

He wanted to get better.

I wonder a lot if knowing about Luna gave him the strength to try. Mr. Smith said his odds were never very good, but he still went through months of painful treatments.

Learning he was dead was one of those strange moments when, at least initially, I was more heartbroken for the moments he lost out on with his daughter than I was upset for myself.

I liked him a lot, and I think we could have had a happy future together, but all of that seemed small in comparison to the knowledge that he would never get to hold his child.

To hear her first words.

To watch her take her first steps.

The unfairness of it could eat me alive if I let it, so I do everything I can to not get lost in the grief that comes when I think about him for too long.

Clark wasn’t perfect, but he was funny, a little socially awkward, and just a really sweet guy all around.

That’s why it was so hard to process when he went no contact. Out of all the guys I’ve dated in my life, he never seemed like the type.

And, honest to God, I don’t think he was.

If he hadn’t been sick, I like to believe that we’d still be together. That he would have chosen to be a part of Luna’s life. It’s a complicated mess of emotions, and being pregnant seems to amplify the pain.

I’ll tell Luna all about her dad one day, and it just really sucks that I only know the basics. We were still in that get to know you, be on your best behavior stage of our relationship.

I know his favorite food was Chinese. And that he had a love of old TV shows when he was trying to fall asleep. His favorite pet growing up was an obese cat named Henry who died when he was ten. And none of that feels like the important stuff that I should have asked.

He almost never talked about his family, so I don’t know any of that information to pass on to our daughter. But he did try to do right by Luna. He left us a substantial chunk of money.

Moving wasn’t something I wanted to tackle until after I gave birth, but Emmett wouldn’t leave me alone when he learned his brother left the majority of his estate to me. I mean, I think that’s why he was upset. I never answered his calls to be sure, but something was off with that situation.

The police didn’t take me seriously. Not even when I showed them the doorbell footage of Emmett coming to my door multiple times a week. Not even when I explained he was creeping around outside of my apartment, like he was checking to see if I was home, nor when I brought them the phone records that showed almost nine hundred calls and texts over a two-month period.

As terrible as it sounds, I was searching for places to move before the trust even paid out. Once that came, I rented the first decent house within my budget in a solid school zone, and I ran.

It’s what omegas do.

Alphas may face every situation head-on and with unwavering bravery, but I’m alone in the world.

Every alpha I’ve ever cared about has left me.

My eyes sting as my head shakes. An embarrassing sob rattles out, even with how hard I try to hold it back. Anxiety and pain war in my chest to see which one can hurt the worst as my mind races. If I’m not having a panic attack…it’s damn close to one. The loop of misery is back, and I try to force away the thoughts, but they come back with a vengeance.

I tell myself that I wasn’t in love with Clark. We’d only been together a few months. It was too soon to feel those emotions, but I wonder a lot if that is a lie I spin to protect my mental health. He really was the sweetest. Even all the pain he caused by not warning me what was happening doesn’t erase the good memories.

He loved to cook breakfast on Saturday mornings, and he would work on his laptop while I worked on mine, but he would slide his socked feet over until he could bury them under my thighs. It was the little things, and I miss him a lot.

I would’ve liked the chance to say goodbye, to learn about him and anything he would want me to tell Luna one day.

Some warning that his brother is a full-blown weirdo would have been nice too.

I know better than to think about the past. It always leaves me hurting. It feels like all my milestones in life are marked by grief.

My mom died just as suddenly as Clark did. Thinking about her is even more complicated, because I loved her so much, but I resent the choices she made. She knew she was the only family I had, and she still picked a high-risk career. Ultimately, I know it’s not her fault she died, but I begged her so many times to find something safer. At the end of the day, she raised me to adulthood, and that was all the commitment she had to make.

And I hate mentally vilifying her. She was a great mom. She would’ve been a huge comfort when I was first processing the grief of Clark’s death.

My stomach starts to bounce around, like Luna can sense my stress. Stretching a shaking hand down, I run it over my belly to give her comfort while I try to breathe through the anxiety. Everything I think and feel, she’s forced to experience too. If I’m a frantic, anxious mess, then it’s spilling into her too.

Once I meet my new OBGYN, I’ll see if they have a recommendation for a pediatrician. I’ve had a plan for this since before I got to town, so I have no idea why it feels like a huge weight hanging over my head all of a sudden.

I also need to call someone to fix the heat.

And there’s still the fact all my stuff is out on the front porch.

The feelings of inadequacy get so intense, it’s hard to breathe. It doesn’t matter how I ended up here. Thinking about my mom or Clark can’t change the past.

Luna is here with me now, and no matter how badly I’m hurting, she comes first. And I will suck it up and start tackling all the things I need to do.

Right after this dizzying wave of panic passes.