CHAPTER 2

My jaw clenches; I smile through it. Clara. Just hearing her name makes me want to throw up. But this is her, standing in my family’s house, as if she owns the place. And worse—she actually does.

"Naomi!" she shrieks, the words squeaking out of her in a voice so high-pitched it drips with false enthusiasm.

Someone get me an eye-roller so I can roll my eye into another dimension. So instead, I do what anyone with a modicum of self-respect would do in my position — I fake it.

"Clara! Oh my God, look at you! Glowing!" As all my pitch shifts toward the sun, I say. I add a slight head tilt for added impact.

Her hands upon her swollen belly, and her lips curl into a smug smile. “Pregnancy looks good on me, huh?”

Like a well-fed leech,” I whisper.

"What was that?" She asks, brows knitting.

“I said, ‘Look at you, peach!’ “ I lie sweetly, giving her an arm pat as if I am the very best of friends with her.

She giggles, and I fight the urge to scream. And, of course, my brother Theo is gazing at her as if she hung the damn moon. His entire face is basically like *whipped. * Gross.

"See, Naomi?" My mother leans in, smiling fondly at Clara. “I told you our baby was going to love Clara. Who wouldn’t want such a good girl?”

Me. I’m the answer to that question.

But I smile, nodding along like a dutiful daughter who’s not quietly praying for divine intervention.

Luncheon, Lies and Dropped-in Guests

I help my mother prepare the dinner table, an act I haven’t done in quite some time. It feels... oddly comforting. Years of devouring takeout in my tiny city apartment, *home-cooked food feels like a luxury. *

Halfway through a delicious bite of mash, it is forcefully jarring my peace.

"NAOMIIIIIIIII!"

My fork nearly flies across the room at the high-pitched shriek. A human missile named Layla barreling toward me before I can process anything. 

I can hardly stand before she screeches to a stop inches from my face. 

Well, that’s new. Normally, she simply throws me to the ground like a golden retriever whose tail has been stepped on.

"Wow. Restraint?" I tease, arching a brow. "Are we maturing?"

Layla crosses her arms, pouting. "You’re a horrible friend."

"Not even a hello first?" I smile, if she is right about it.

She huffs dramatically. “Oh, I would’ve greeted you. But you didn’t say you were back!”

"Surprise?" I do, giving her an innocent smile.

Layla glares for a couple seconds and then sighs. “Ugh, I hate that I can’t stay mad at you.

“That’s because I’m adorable.”

She snorts, but doesn’t dispute it.

My mother swoops in like a heavenly savior before Tina can go on another rant. 

"Ladies, it’s lunch time. Layla, join us. You can scold Naomi later."

Layla’s eyes illuminate like Christmas morning. Aunt, you don’t need to tell me twice!”

She flops down in a chair as if she owns the joint. I see her and Theo give each other a nervous look. 

Hmm. Suspicious.

The entire pack believed they were mates once upon a time. Then reality happened. 

Theo met Clara. Layla met someone else. And now, here we are. 

— I don’t know what happened with them but based on how Layla is just stabbing the shit out of her steak like it had a personal vendetta against her, I’d say it was ugly. 

Secrets and Schemes

Layla takes me upstairs to my room after lunch. I have little more than crossed the threshold when she — flops onto my bed as if she pays rent here. 

“Make yourself at home, won’t you?” I say dryly.

"I always do," she smirks.

I shake my head, surveying the room. Nothing has changed. Animal and Contact Noise: The same soft lavender walls. The same bookshelves filled with my childhood favorites. A similar feeling of nostalgia wrapped around me like a comforting blanket. 

“Nice to be home,” I say, dragging my hand over my desk.

"Yeah," Layla says. “Home to finally confront your demons.”

I narrowed my eyes on her. “You could’ve put that in a less ominous way, you know.

“But where’s the fun in that?” she grins.

I plop down next to her with a sigh. "Honestly? I don’t know what I’ll do next. But one thing is for sure — I’m done running.”

Layla sits up, eyes gleaming. "YES. THAT’S THE ENERGY. MAKE THAT DOUCHEBAG REGRET EVER BEING BORN.”

I blink. “Are we still talking about my ex-mate? Or are they simply a reflection of some unresolved feelings you have for a certain someone?”

Layla’s mouth tightens into a line. "Mind your business."

I snort. "Uh-huh. That’s what I thought."

Layla clears her throat, changing the subject so quickly I almost get whiplash.

“Anyway,” she asks, a naughtiness in her eyes, “do you have a boyfriend?”

I choke on my own spit. "WHAT?"

She clicks her tongue. "Tsk, tsk, tsk. I can tell just by looking at you — you’re still a virgin, aren’t you?”

What the actual hell.

I gape at her. "How did we get here?! A moment ago, we were talking about my emotional trauma!”

Layla waves a hand. "Oh, hush. There is space for trauma and romance.”

I groan, hiding my face in a pillow. “I don’t have time for dating, alright? I never have time for work and — “

"Boring," Layla cuts me off. “Well, your lucky night — tonight is Theo’s birthday party. And guess what?"

I peek at her warily. "What?"

She grins like a villain. There will be plenty of hot, eligible bachelors there.” And I, my dear, am dressing you for the gala of— (wait for it)—suitor hunting.”

I sit up so quickly the room spins. "SUITOR WHAT?! "

Layla cackles like the

evil genius she is.

"See you at six sharp. Don’t be late."

Suddenly my tranquil return becomes a matchmaking disaster.