Page 41 of The Alpha's Second Chance Mate

“Good night. I love you.”

“Love you.”

My head felt fine, but my body and mind were exhausted. Going to bed early would do me some good. Unfortunately, the opposite happened. Rather than sliding into a blissful and dreamless sleep, I tossed and turned, unable to get comfortable. Old memories and feelings wouldn’t stop rushing through my head. I was still wide awake and staring at the ceiling when I heard Ashton go to bed a few hours later.

Eventually, bored and frustrated out of my mind, I threw the covers off and got up. I glanced at the closet. It was full of old crap I needed to go through, but I’d been putting it off. With nothing better to do with my time, I opened the door and dragged the boxes out. Flipping on the bedside lamp, I sat down cross-legged and opened the first box.

It held old keepsakes and items I hadn’t had the heart to throw out after my grandmother had died—photo albums, my high school diploma and yearbooks, and a bunch of other stuff. Ashton might get a kick out of it. I shoved the box aside and opened the next one. It contained more memories. Memories of my life with Cole. I must have put everything that reminded me of him in this one box and stuffed it away. Why I hadn’t thrown it all out in my grief over losing him, I didn’t know. Maybe I’d been too heartsick from Grandma dying so soon after to deal with it.

The first item I took out was a photo. It must have been taken right after I’d moved to Harbor Mills. Grandma had gained custody of me after my parents died, and I’d come here to live when I was ten. My entire world had been shattered, but she’d taken me in and loved me like a daughter. Between her and the young boy who’d come knocking on the door to play, I’d made a home here.

That boy had been Cole Garrett. The picture showed us outside on the old swing, which meant Grandma must have taken it. Agap-toothed Cole grinned at the camera as he pushed me on the swing, my hair flying back and my mouth open wide in what must have been a shout of joy.

Setting the photo aside with reverence, I dug deeper into the box, and it felt as though I’d stepped into a time machine. The next photo was of me, Cole, and Trent, all about twelve years old, standing outside the Harbor Mills Middle School gym. That had been the autumn dance. Cole had asked me to be his date, and I’d said yes because he was my best friend and I had no one else to go with. That was the first night I’d noticed how handsome he was, the initial moment when I’d begun to fall for him asmorethan a friend.

Years zoomed past with each item. Old, dog-eared tickets to a movie we’d gone to as our first real date. A photo of us outside the ice cream parlor downtown. We were fourteen—the night of our first kiss. In each photo, we looked so happy, always smiling. His arm around my shoulders, mine around his waist, my head resting on his chest, and his fingers running through my hair.

A lump formed in my throat when I pulled out the picture of our high school graduation. Trent was waving and throwing his graduation cap in the air, tongue out and head thrown back. Beside him, Cole had me in an embrace, kissing me. A sudden and powerful surge of nostalgia rushed through me. I could remember that exact moment: how his lips had felt on mine, the excitement I felt for the future, and everything I thought we’d end up experiencing together.

Tears finally fell as I found a thin album I’d made when I was around twenty. Photo after photo showed us together. Sometimes I’d be looking at Cole with a deep and almost overwhelming love. What really got me was the photos of himlooking at me the same way, like I was the one thing in the world he wanted.

At the bottom of the box, I found a smaller stack of photos. Some of the last we’d taken together. Trent had left for the military by then, and it was usually only Cole and me, sometimes Stormy. I frowned, wiping the tears and snot from my face, noticing something I hadn’t fifteen years ago. Cole looked different in these photos. He was smiling less, frowning more, and looked a bit haggard and rundown, like he carried the weight of the world on his shoulders. I couldn’t remember that. Maybe I’d been too blinded by love to notice, but something had definitely changed in that last year. The one thing that hadn’t changed? The way he looked at me. Even through the haunted and exhausted look on his face, the overwhelming love for me was still in his eyes.

What could have happened to make him leave so fast? To never speak to me again?

Beside the stack of photos was a small, crinkled cardboard box. The remnants of the pregnancy test I’d taken not long after Cole left. As I held the box in my trembling fingers, it felt so insignificant. Less than an ounce or two in weight, yet it had altered my entire life. When it came up positive, I’d thought my life was over. Grandma hadn’t been happy about it when I told her, yet she’d promised to help me through it. Told me she’d watch the baby so I could continue school and get on my feet. I’d expected nothing less from the woman who raised me with so much love. The problem was, her heart literally hadn’t been in it. She’d died from a heart attack only a few weeks later. It had been the worst two months of my entire life. The hits had just kept coming.

Once I’d lost both her and Cole, I only had Stormy, and she’d already moved to California. After a few days of packing, I left,never looking back at Harbor Mills. Never thinking I’d be back here again, anddefinitelynot thinking I’d see Cole again.

With so many emotions straining me, I tucked all the keepsakes and photos back into the boxes and shoved them back into the closet. I’d hoped for a mindless activity to lull me to sleep, and this wasn’t helping.

My face was still wet with tears when I crawled back into bed. I curled up on my side, staring out the window at the old swing, and thought about that first photo. Me and Cole, out there in my backyard as kids, playing. For the last fifteen years, I’d prayed for some sort of closure, an answer to why everything had happened the way it did.

Now, Cole was offering me answers. But did I still want them?

Yes. The answer was yes. Of course I did.

As sleep finally managed to wrap its claws around me and drag me under, the last thought I had was one I never thought I’d have again. Despite everything—the heartache, pain, and confusion—and no matter how much I tried to deny it, my heart was still calling out for Cole Garrett.

10

COLE

One of the many benefits of being a member of a pack was the financial assistance that came along with it. The alpha and their family typically purchased several buildings and rented them to pack members at highly reduced rates. Most of the buildings were business premises, but the pack also owned homes for members who had dire money woes and were at risk of being homeless or having to move away. Our pack was no different. We even had accounts set up to pay the utility bills for these businesses and houses. It had been that way for generations.

Not only did this system help people who needed it, but it kept money circulating through the pack, ensuring the viability and health of the pack finances. Everyone was more likely to open businesses, hire employees, and invest in the town if they weren’t worried about making rent or being able to afford the electricity bill. It was a simple yet effective way for the alpha to show the pack that he cared and was taking care of them.

That was what made the morning’s arrival so shocking.

The doorbell rang just after breakfast. When I opened the door, I found Maria Blankenship, a member of the pack, standing outside. We’d gone to school together.

“Hey, what’s up, Maria?”

She licked her lips, her eyes downcast. “Can we talk real quick, Cole?”

That didn’t sound good. My stomach sank. What could be so important that she needed to talk to me in person?

“Come on in,” I said, stepping aside.

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