Page 104 of The Alpha's Second Chance Mate

“Oh my God, Mom.” He turned blazing eyes on me. “Are we really doing this? You guys are ruining my life, and you’re worried about me swearing?”

“This is a discussion,” I said, doing my best to regain control of that discussion. “There are bigger things at play here. Things you would be better off not knowing.”

Ashton clenched his fists, shaking in barely contained anger. “I’m really tired of not knowing what’s going on with my life. How about you grow up, Mom, and tell me.”

“That’s enough!” Cole growled, regaining some of his footing. “You can yell and curse at me all you want, Ashton, but you will respect your mother. If you don’t like me raising my voice to her, then you know damn well you shouldn’t, either.”

Ashton’s angry gaze slipped from mine, and I could see a change come over my son. My heart lurched as I realized he was going to say something everyone would regret, but like a trainwreck, I couldn’t stop it. Everything was happening too fast. His emotions from becoming a full shifter were still too strong, too unfocused and powerful.

“So, you’re going to start playing dad now?” Ashton hissed, veins standing out on his neck. “Now? After everything? You weren’tin the picture for my entire life, and now, when things get tough on you, all you’re gonna do is let us go? You don’t get to tell me to do anything.” Ashton took a threatening step toward Cole, pointing his finger at him like a knife. “Since you’re so eager for us to go, then you don’t get to tell me shit. A real dad would fight for me. For us. I guess it was too much to hope for a real father.”

Ashton spun on his heel and stormed back to his bedroom. His door slammed so hard, the whole house seemed to rattle from the impact. Cole sat, face emotionless, staring into the space where Ashton’s face had been a few seconds before. Almost like his son’s vitriol had frozen him in place.

As he lowered his head, I thought I saw tears in his eyes. All the years he’d spent hating his own father, wishing he’d been more, that he’d been the father he’d wanted, all of it replaying in his mind. Now, his own son had berated him and more or less told him he was being exactly like the man Cole had always hated. The devastation and emotional distress couldn’t have been clearer if it had actually been painted there in big red letters.

Cole loved Ashton. That was clear. If he didn’t, the horror and self-reproach wouldn’t have looked so awful. He wouldn’t be trying to send us away if there was no other way to ensure our safety.

“He didn’t mean that, Cole,” I said with a heavy sigh. “He’s just angry.”

“But he’s right,” Cole said, his voice husky and wet with unshed tears.

“He’s not right. You know how kids are. They say stuff they don’t mean when they’re emotional.”

Cole lifted his eyes to mine, and I stifled my gasp. I’d never seen a man look more broken and anguished. Especially not a man like Cole Garrett. Seeing him like that, so raw and shattered, sent a thundering crack through my mind, tearing at my resolve. Had I been too cold with him? Did I really want things to end like this? I thought I did. Now, the softer part of my heart cried out that I might be making a mistake. Maybe we all were.

“He might be emotional,” Cole said. “But it doesn’t mean he doesn’t believe it.”

“When this is all over, things will get better,” I said. “We’ll get out of Harbor Mills, but one day he’ll be back. I’ll make sure your son is safe, but you have to promise me that you won’t run. That you’ll stay and lead the pack. Because Ashton needs a place of his own. A pack of his own. Can you do that?”

Cole nodded. “I think so. Maybe. I’m sorry for all of this. I wish it had gone differently. I really do. This isn’t how I pictured things working out.”

“Yeah,” I said. “Neither did I. But these are the cards we’ve been dealt. We have to play the hand. That’s all we can do.”

He stood and looked around the house, glancing wistfully down the hall toward Ashton’s room.

“I guess I need to go. Uh, you guys probably want to start packing.”

He took a step toward the front door, and I walked over to join him. Before he opened the door, he turned to look at me again. He opened his mouth to say something, but no words came out. He pulled me close and kissed me instead of speaking. Our lips pressed together in an intense, passionate kiss that took my breath away. I kissed him back.

In one moment, a single kiss, all the years of longing, pain, and emotion poured from him. It was like he was trying to say everything he wanted to say but couldn’t with that kiss, exuding every emotion he couldn’t vocalize. I did the same, allowing the unspoken to be said in the only way we could.

Cole broke away and opened the door, slipping out quickly.

“Goodbye, Avery,” he muttered just before he closed it with a finalclick.

My entire body ached as I tried to catch my breath. I wanted him back. My heart yearned for him. But there was no way he could be in our lives until he figured his own out. Even though I understood that, his loss was like a physical blow to me. I imagined he felt the same.

Through the glass of the front door, I watched Cole get into his truck. His shoulders were hunched as though he was weighed down. When he opened the driver’s side door, he looked over his shoulder, looking at the window of Ashton’s room. Even from that distance, I saw the pain on his face as he hung his head again and climbed in.

The rest of that day went by like a surreal blur. Sometimes I’d look at the clock and think hours should have passed, yet it had only been minutes. Other times, the exact opposite would happen—I thought it was early, but then I noticed the sun had gone down. My mind whirled with thoughts of Cole and what would happen in the future.

I was having a hard time dealing with it all, and Ashton was having an equally rough go. The only sound I heard from hisroom was the dull roar of music or the random electronic sounds of his computer games. He didn’t leave his room once. It was his sanctuary, and I was exiled from it.

He didn’t even unlock the door when I brought him dinner.

“Sweetie, can you at least eat something?” I called through the door, hoping to see his face.

The music turned up even louder. I recognized the moody lyrics and crunchy guitars of Sleep Token, one of his favorite bands. The powerful drum beat echoed through the door, and I set the plate on the ground in front of the door. Maybe he’d sneak it in when I wasn’t there. I couldn’t force him to open the door, but it hurt that he was so deeply wounded that he wouldn’t even let me in to talk about things.

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