Page 27 of Healed in the Alpha's Embrace
“Why don’t you both come on through to my office?” My wolf screamed at me to close the distance between me and Zoey, but I reminded him that we needed to take things slow.
The gym was a sensory overload, but I saw Zoey peeking out from under her dark hair, watching the boys and men training with curiosity. She walked towards my office, each step tentative and unsure.
“Thank you,” she murmured, ushering Roland through the door ahead of her. She glanced around my office, taking in the walls adorned with framed photos of fighters and fight posters before settling into the chair I offered. Roland perched on the edge of his seat. He was tall for his age, but he was so lean that he barely made a dent in the cushion.
“Roland, you’ve got a lot of energy and strength for a kid your age,” I said. “As I told you, I think I can help you learn how to use it.”
“Really?” He was hopeful, a contrast to Zoey’s guarded posture beside him. She watched me, her fingers twisting the hem of her sweater. I wanted nothing more than to ease her anxiety.
“Yeah. Boxing taught me discipline and focus. It could do the same for you.”
“Discipline?” Roland tested the word, as if trying it out.
“Exactly. Boxing isn’t just about throwing punches. It’s about control, knowing when to act and when to wait.” My gaze shifted to Zoey. “It’s more than fighting. It’s an outlet, a way to channel everything inside into something positive.” I paused for a moment, letting her absorb that. “For a shifter kid—an alpha like Roland—it will translate to his wolf’s baser instincts. He’ll learn control. How to keep those emotions from overwhelming him like they did today in the park.”
Zoey’s hazel eyes met mine. “You think this will help him?”
“I know it will,” I answered without hesitation. “It helped me.”
Zoey’s expression was a mix of uncertainty and fear. Her gaze flicked to Roland, then back to me. “I don’t know about boxing, Noah. He’s only eight.”
“Zoey,” I said gently, leaning forward, resting my forearms on the desk, “I started when I was about his age. It shaped me into who I am today.”
She folded her arms, her lips pressing into a thin line. “And who, exactly, are you?”
It wasn’t defiance, but genuine ignorance. She didn’t see beyond the man in front of her. To the uninitiated, boxing could seem to be a gateway to violence. I could almost see the thoughts swirling in her mind, visualizing her son replicating his father’s aggressive behavior.
I had to find a way to convince her that boxing went beyond physical combat. It was a means to instill control and discipline, something the young alpha required before it was too late.
“Google me,” I answered.
“Excuse me?”
“Look me up. Noah Alexander, boxer.”
She frowned, then pulled her phone from her purse, her fingers working over the screen. Her eyes widened, just like Roland’s had earlier.
“Wow,” she muttered under her breath.
“Boxing can open doors you never thought possible, not just physically but mentally, too.” I watched her process this new information, hoping it would tip the scales. “I’m not saying Roland will end up a boxing champ, but he’s got an alpha’s spirit, lots of natural aggression. Hitting a bag, learning the discipline of the sport, could help him manage that. Especially now. Those big emotions he spoke of are only going to get bigger.”
Roland’s body vibrated with excitement, practically pulsating with eagerness. “Please, Mom? Can I try? Just once?”
Zoey’s fingers twitched, and she studied her son with that maternal protectiveness I’d seen from my own mother. The love there was fierce, a silent promise to shield him from the world’s harsh edges. It stirred something in me, a deep pang of longing for the woman who’d given me the same devotion.
“Mom?” Roland prodded again.
Finally, she exhaled a breath she seemed to have been holding forever. “Okay, Ro. Let’s see how it goes.”
The kid beamed, and as I watched their exchange, an ache spread through my chest that had nothing to do with training or boxing. I needed to face my own past. To visit my mother, whose love was all-encompassing and given freely.
By avoiding the alpha house and the pressure of my father’s expectations, I’d been punishing her, but it wouldn’t keep me from her any longer. My mom deserved better than my avoidance. I’d make the time to visit her.
Zoey’s fingers trailed through Ro’s hair, and the gentle motion seemed to soothe them both. Her warm hazel eyes locked with my blues in a moment that felt charged with possibility. “Can you really help him?” she whispered.
I nodded. “I’ll do everything I can.”
She studied me for a heartbeat longer before giving a small, almost imperceptible nod. “Okay.” It wasn’t just an agreement, but trust. The kind of trust that didn’t come easy to somebody like her.
