Page 145 of Healed in the Alpha's Embrace
I headed straight back to my office and dialed the number Sam had sent me. The line rang several times before a cautious female voice answered. “Hello?”
“Hi, is this Mrs. Lester? This is Noah Alexander calling. I’m a friend of your daughters, Zoey and Heather.”
There was a heavy pause. “Oh. I see. What can I do for you, Mr. Alexander?” Her tone was polite but wary.
I cleared my throat. “Well, I was hoping we could discuss the possibility of you coming to visit Zoey and Heather here in Boldercrest. I think it would mean a lot to them to see you and maybe start to work through some things.”
Another long silence stretched out before she spoke again. “I’m not sure that’s such a good idea. It’s been so long, and after everything...” Her voice cracked as she trailed off.
The guilt in her tone was palpable, though I wasn’t certain of the root—it could stem from her treatment of the girls,abandoning Sam, or a combination of it all. Even so, I pressed on gently.
“Mrs. Lester, I know it’s difficult and complicated. But your daughters need this. Need you. Would you consider it? For their sake?”
She sighed heavily and sounded on the verge of tears when she finally responded. “You’re right. I owe them that much at least. Let me see what I can do about getting some time off work. I’ll be in touch soon with potential dates.”
Relief coursed through me. “Thank you. I really appreciate your willingness to do this. It’s going to mean the world to Zoey and Heather.”
After working out the logistics, we ended the call. I hoped I’d done the right thing by orchestrating this visit. Zoey’s family had a lot of healing to do, and there were bound to be a few bumps in the road ahead.
I took a sip of my coffee and grimaced. It had gone cold while I spoke to Mrs. Lester. Shoving the cup aside, I reluctantly turned my attention to my schedule for the day. Eight pack members were slated to meet with me individually about various concerns and issues.
I groaned. Dealing with people’s problems had never been my strong suit. Years of fighting in the ring had made me surly and intimidating—not exactly qualities that inspired folks to open up. But I was alpha now. The pack’s well-being was my responsibility.
Resigning myself to the task ahead, I tried to rearrange my expression into something more approachable than my typical resting frown.
The first pack member walked in, an older gentleman named Frank, who ran the local hardware store. He fidgeted nervously as he sat across from me.
“What can I do for you, Frank?” I asked.
He heaved out a sigh. “Things have been rough at the store lately. Sales are way down, and I’m struggling to keep up with overhead costs.”
I jotted down some notes as he continued talking.
The next few meetings followed a similar pattern—pack members facing financial hardships, difficulty finding work, and general economic woes.
With each story, a sinking feeling grew in my gut. I hadn’t realized how often my father had handled these types of issues. Guilt pricked at me as I promised each member I’d look into potential solutions and get back to them soon. But honestly, I was at a loss for what to do. This was far outside my wheelhouse. Knowing I was in over my head, I swallowed my pride and called my father.
He arrived within the hour, looking none too pleased.
“I told you this was part of the job, Noah,” he said. “If you’d listened during our training sessions?—”
“I know, I know.” I held up my hands. “I screwed up. But I need your help to make this right. Please.”
He eyed me for a long moment before relenting with a sigh. “All right, let me show you something.” My father pulled out a big notebook full of neatly labeled tabs. “I use this to keep track of how everyone’s doing and identify potential problems early. I also keep a board in the alpha house where anyone can post jobs or if someone is looking for specific work.”
“This is great. Really convenient for matching people up,” I said sincerely. “I can put some of my tech skills to use, streamline it a bit.”
He snorted. “I may be old-school, but I still know a thing or two.”
We shared a chuckle, and some of that ever-present tension between us eased.
“Thanks,” I said. “I mean it, Dad.”
He clapped a hand on my shoulder. “You’ve still got a lot to learn, but you’ll get there.”
For the next couple of hours, we worked together, inputting all the data, then setting up calls and meetings between pack members seeking employment and business owners looking to hire. It was the most cohesively we’d collaborated since my return to Boldercrest.
“I owe you an apology,” I said as we wrapped. “I should’ve paid more attention when you tried to teach me all this before.”
