Page 29 of Talk About… Dramay
So many fucking times I’d started to call her then remembered she changed her number. The messages I sent in a pool of despair and regret were returned to sender.
Of course, she blocked me. Why wouldn’t she?
“Get your ass out here!” Tucker bellowed when I took too long. He glared when I walked out but barely spoke as we loaded up his old pickup and made our way out of Rockwood Valley.
The streets heading out of town were lined in trees and with all the rain we got lately it was like a new world.
Ori always loved the rain.
The thought was one of many I always had throughout the day. It was like my life was forever connected to hers even if she hated me.
Fuck, I was pathetic.
“This is your weekend to come to terms with everything,” Tucker said. His rumbling voice was serious and I braced myself for what was coming next. “She’s coming back to town and you’re going to fix this. I refuse to see my best friend fall into the bottle again and lose himself any more than he already has.”
“Fix this?” I scoffed, glaring at him. He faced forward, large frame and bushy beard making him look intimidating. Though my best friend was a teddy bear.
Literally, his boyfriend called him Bear… though, there may be other connotations there. I refused to think about his sex life, though. That would be like asking my brothers for details.
No fucking thank you.
“Yes, fix this, you asshole,” he bit out. “You’re mates. Fate chose you even though you failed to make something of it. Now is your chance to either try again or move the fuck on for good. Find your closure or find your future.”
“It’s not my fucking choice. Not anymore. And Ori hates me. I have no doubt about that,” I argued.
“No one could hate you more than you hate yourself,” he said, the words of wisdom making my stomach sink again. Because he was right.
The self loathing was strong.
“Do you even want her back?”
“More than anything,” I admitted. “But I’m a realist.”
“No, you’re a pessimist that has thirteen years of pain to try and make up for.”
“Impossible. Even if she forgave me, you can’t erase pain like that,” I said, voice a hoarse whisper as my eyes burned withunshed tears. If I opened the floodgates now I wasn’t sure I’d recover.
“We’ll be there soon enough,” he offered instead of arguing now. “Save the what-ifs for the fire.”
Tucker turned up the music loud enough that I couldn’t even say he left me to my thoughts. Instead, I chose to sing along, roll my window down, and embrace the fresh mountain air.
I let myself pretend for the next few hours that life was easy and uncomplicated, that I hadn’t ruined not just my life, but my omega’s.
Until Tucker walked us over to the communal campfire and sat his large frame in a chair, gesturing for me to do the same. This campground was different than most. All the camps were set up in a circle, a huge bonfire spot in the middle. It was already crackling, the warmth radiating through me as soon as I sat.
We had to park and hike out here but honestly the extra work was exactly what I needed. Tucker seemed as unaffected as always as he told me to stop bitching and grab the bags.
We set up our camp in silence, two smaller tents side by side and our camp chairs and shared grill and picnic table in front.
The asshole brought no beer, ignoring my protests, and simply handed over a cold soda. I cracked the can and took a long drink, staring into the dancing flames and listening to the sounds of nature around us.
Slowly, more alphas started to join the fire. Each one looked some form of surly or somber.
An angry looking alpha sat down on my other side, his face serious as he glared at the fire.
I had a feeling I wasn’t the only one with grievances to air.
This still felt like an intervention. When two lumberjack sized alphas in matching red and black flannel joined us, a box in their hands, I realized I was right.