“Even from the other omegas?”
“If that’s what you want, yes, of course.”
He took a deep breath. “Okay.”
“Good. Now, why don’t you start by telling me why you decided to come here and shit all over the peaceful evening I had planned?”
He barked a nervous laugh and then chugged down his shot. “Okay, here goes … I broke up with Renee.”
No surprise there. The guy was a serial dater. He treated women with respect, showered them with gifts, and lavished them with attention. But as soon as a hint of emotion came into play, he severed the relationship without hesitation.
“I didn’t want to, but I did it anyway,” he went on, setting his glass back on the island. “We had a huge row, and she said some stuff that … well, it hurt, you know? And now her father is gunning for me, and it’s possible I’ll lose my job, since I work for her grandmother. Look, I can agree that I’m a bastard, but she’s wrong in saying that I’m scared of commitment. I’m not. Am I?” He didn’t sound so sure.
It really didn’t take a psychologist to work out his problem, but it was so easy to be blind to one’s own issues. “I can give you my opinion, but if your thoughts aren’t straight, you might not be able to see where I’m coming from. You might just get defensive and walk out.”
“So do your thing. Give me that clarity of mind you were talking about before.”
Bree reached out and rested her hand on his. “You sure?” At his nod, she lowered her shields. Instantly, the varying emotional energies zapped her.
Confusion. Despondency. Self-pity. Agitation.
She gritted her teeth as they punched their way inside her, giving her sharp stabbing pains in the left side of her chest, a burning sensation in her throat, and the sour taste of acid on her tongue. Worst of all was the feel of words being scrawled in her mind as snippets of his thoughts drifted to her.
… hate having to do this …
… need another drink …
… think this is working …
Her heartburn-like pain faded, and she slammed her shields back up, not daring to read more than his surface emotions. Delving further into the “emotional heart” of a person could be dangerous, because it would mean she’d feel the energy of every single emotion at their most vivid. The vibrations of the energies would be like a shock of electricity to her core. A shock so powerful it could even lead to cardiac arrest. No, thank you.
The lines that had furrowed Benny’s brow smoothed out. He rolled back his shoulders and took a long breath, centering himself.
“Feel better?” she asked.
He nodded. “My mind feels less crowded.”
Good, because he’d be more open to her opinion. “You want to know what I really think, or do you want a ‘there, there’ pat on the back while I tell you everything will work itself out in time? Be sure.”
“I want an honest opinion. That’s why I came to you.”
“Okay.” She poured more tequila into both their glasses. “I believe you’re right; I believe you’re not scared of commitment. I think you’re scared of committing to the wrong person. Scared of making the same mistake as your uncle. He almost imprinted on someone who betrayed him and then broke his heart. It ate at him, hardened him, gave him trust issues.
“Other women came along, but he always pushed them away. He’s with someone now, sure, but they haven’t imprinted on each other. And it’s easy for anyone to see that he ‘settled’ for what he could get. His relationship is one of convenience. Both he and the woman he’s seeing would rather be in a half-assed relationship than be alone. You don’t want to suffer that same fate, right?”
Benny nodded. “Right. The woman he almost imprinted on … what she did fucked up his life.”
“Not quite. She hurt him, but she didn’t make him choose to pull back from everyone. In that sense, he fucked up his life. She just fucked up. There’s a difference. But, back to you. I can understand why you wouldn’t want to let women close when you’re worried about committing to the wrong one. But if you go on as you are and don’t take the risk of letting someone in, you’ll grow old alone. Or you’ll do the very thing you seem so desperate to avoid—you’ll ‘settle’ for someone you don’t love just so that you don’t have to be alone.”
He lapsed into a thoughtful silence. “Huh.”
“In other words, pull your head out of your ass and get your shit together.” She winced. “That didn’t come out right. What I meant to say—”
“No, you’re right.” He knocked back the second shot of tequila and slipped off his stool. “You’re absolutely right.” The side of his mouth curled slightly. “Thanks for that, Bree.” He walked out.