Page 21 of In Doubt
“Their omega. She invited some of her friends round and before we knew it loads of people had eaten that cake and there weren’t enough toilets. It was carnage. Connie made Ric scrub every inch of the house with bleach afterwards and I think he slept on the sofa for a week.”
“She forgave him though?”
“Of course! They all did.” She pauses to tie her shoelace. “Logan shaved off Ric’s eyebrows the year before. He looked permanently shocked for about a month. Connie bought him some fake ones to wear, but he refused.” Her face brightens with affection and she laughs. “It was so funny.”
“That’s what I like about pack life. The feeling of family. I couldn’t go back to living on my own. It was lonely as hell.”
“It was?” she asks, crinkling her brow like she’s attempting to reorder her thoughts.
“Yeah,” I mumble, cursing myself for saying something so prattish.
“Why?”
“Money attracts people, lots of people. It doesn’t mean they’re your friends. Your real friends.”
“How about your family?” she asks. Her caramel eyes are locked my way behind those ridiculously cute glasses.
“My parents divorced several years back. It hasn’t really felt like a family since then. They’re off doing their own things, building their new lives.” And their new families. They barely acknowledge my existence any more.
“That’s sad,” she says softly.
“I suppose you’ve never been lonely,” I mutter defensively, thinking of the way she’s always surrounded by her little posse of friends, thinking of the brother she clearly adores.
“Everyone feels lonely sometimes.”
“I haven’t since I joined my pack.” Our pack may be new. We may be working out how to make this thing between us work. Sometimes getting it wrong, but still learning. Yet I know with every bone in my body it’s the place I belong. Even if sometimes it feels like there is something missing. Something we haven’t quite figured out yet.
I adjust the bandana around my nose. Her scent is becoming denser and denser in this trench. “Anyway that laxative stunt was irresponsible,” I quip. My irritation spiking.
“For such a so-called party animal, you are a serious killjoy.”
“Who said I’m a party animal?”
“The gossip columnist, Jakey.”
Jakey? Is she teasing me?
“Reputations aren’t always fairly earned. You’re the one poisoning innocent people.” Including me, with your goddamn scent.
“It was pretty dumb.” She shrugs. “My brother hasn’t always made the right choices in life. I guess I haven’t either.”
“Yeah,” I mumble, wishing I hadn’t partied so hard at the beginning of the year, wishing I hadn’t earned that reputation, seeing now how it’s tainted her view of me.
The temperature continues to rise, our trench like an oven slowly cooking us. Sweat trickles around my collar bone and down my back, soaking through the base of my shirt. The smell of it mixes with her potent scent, with mine too and with the salty aroma of her sweat. Her skin shines with it, her hair damp around her neck. How the hell does she make even that look good?
A bead of sweat rolls down her neck and pools at her collar bone. I want to reach over, drag her towards me and run my tongue down her throat. I want to unbutton that shirt of hers and run my tongue all over her sweet, little body.Shit!
I twist my body away, focussing with all my might on the sandy earth.
My hands are damp inside the gloves and it soaks through the material, making the trowel’s handle slip in my grip. I hold it tighter, concentrating with determination on every scrape of the earth.
Scrape, scrape, scrape.
Watching the layers of dirt strip away, sinking lower into the ground, further back in time.
And then with a clink, my tool hits something hard.
7
