Page 74 of Examining the Bond

I fix my makeup, doing my best to disguise the puffiness.

As I walk back into the bedroom, I eye her shirt on the bed, yet another reminder of how incredible things were last night before I destroyed everything. I briefly think of returning it, but if we don’t resolve things, I’ll be left with nothing.

I guess that’s what I deserve…

I quickly pack my bag, shoving her shirt right into the middle of it. I want her scent to leach into my other clothes, so when I unzip the bag at home, the smell will spill out into my nest. The thought of Skylar's scent in my nest makes my knees weak.

I check the time on my phone, my pulse lurching when I realize I’ve somehow wasted an hour already. I’m running out of time; I need to fucking hurry.

After scanning the room for anything I might have missed, I quickly check out and storm toward the clinic as fast as my shaky legs will carry me.

A lump forms in my throat as I enter the familiar glass-paned doors. It’s not just the fast walk in the ice-cold air that has my heart racing.

I really think I’m going to throw up…

The more my senses return, cutting through my hangover, the more memories of our argument come back. The more I think about them, the sicker I get. I can’t even call itourargument. I was out of my mind, and nothing she said would have made me listen. I was unreasonable and ruthless and stupid.

I just need to explain to her what happened, how I lost control to my urges.

Maybe she’ll understand. She’s an alpha, after all.

Each new memory that hits me breaks my heart just a little more. By the time I arrive at the reception desk, I’m pretty sure I’ve shed a tear or two.

The same disgruntled looking beta woman is sitting there working away at her computer. She doesn’t even look up at first, so I clear my throat to get her attention.

“Are you here for an appointment?” she asks, her eyes snapping up from the screen.

“Umm… no. I’m here to see Dr. Morales,” I say, my throat tightening at her name. I shift back and forth, my eyes trailing to gaze down the nearby hall, looking for any sign of her. “I’ve been feeling a bit weird since the tests yesterday. I just wanted to ask about the side effects.”

It’s a lie, a bold-faced lie, but I can’t possibly tell her why I’m actually here.

“Dr. Morales isn’t in right now,” the secretary says, her voice completely flat. “Would you like to make an appointment with Dr. Martin?”

The blood drains from my face, leaving me light-headed, and I try not to sway. My thoughts swim as I reach out to grip the desk.

She glances at my trembling hand but makes no comment.

“What—” I choke on the single word. My chest suddenly tightens, making it harder to breathe. “Is she at lunch or something? I can wait for her to get back…”

I still have twenty minutes or so before I need to worry about calling an Uber.I have time.

“Dr. Morales is off today,” the secretary says bluntly. She hits a few keys on her keyboard before looking back up at me. “Dr. Martin will be available in an hour if you want to wait.”

I stare at her while the words process, but I feel like no matter how many times I replay them, my brain won’t catch up.

Skylar isn’t here.

My last chance to see her before I fucking leave, and she’s off today.

The world tilts, and I grip the edge of the secretary’s desk harder to keep from toppling over. Every breath I force into my lungs is painful, and I hardly hear my own reply over the thundering pulse in my ears.

“No, that’s okay,” I force out. “I… I’m sure it’s nothing.”

I drift away from the desk, my eyes wide in shock. All I have is my bag and the plane ticket on my phone. I could text her, but how shitty would that be? Nothing I could say in a text could possibly make up for the way I acted.

For what I said.

Desperation claws up my throat.