Page 66 of Fourth Base with the Alpha
Next she’s hugging Mick and then Hunter a second time. By now she has tears sliding down her face and it’s clear how much she dotes on her brother.
“See,” I whisper, as we follow Klara to her car, “I knew Swedes were cuddly.”
He rolls his eyes and then rolls them even harder when we halt by a mini.
“This is why we should have arranged a car, Klara. We’ll never all fit in there.”
“Nonsense, Hjalmar. Stop your moaning and climb in. Boys in the back–”
“What?!”
“And Isabella can sit up front with me.”
I grin at Hunter and Mick and hop in the front seat before they can argue.
“So,” Klara says to me almost as soon as she’s pulling away from the parking space, “tell me, how did you two meet?”
“Yeah,” Mick says, “how did the two of you get together?”
“Erm,” I rack my brain for our agreed response to this question, but it’s hard to focus when my eyes are drawn to the scenery beyond the window.
We drive away from the city out towards the countryside. It’s green and flat and neat. There’s no trash on the street. The hedgerows are neatly clipped and every house freshly painted. “We met through work,” Hunter pipes up from the back seat.
“Did you ask her out?” Mick quizzes Hunter.
“We mutually agreed to go for a drink,” I intercede.
“And is my brother treating you well?” Klara asks.
“He’s very lovely, yes.”
Klara swings her gaze from the road to peer at me. “Hjalmar doesn’t often do lovely. It must be love.”
“I wouldn’t go that far,” I say quickly. “We’ve only been dating a few months.” Three weeks actually and it’s all been fake. Well, some of it anyway. Coming in my mouth definitely wasn’t fake.
We weave though fields and trees, all lush and green, and every now and again we catch sight of water, of rivers and streams twisting through the landscape. I catch sight of wild flowers swaying in meadows and the spires of churches through gaps in the trees.
“How is your father doing?” I ask Klara. Her sunny disposition alters, her hands tightening on the steering wheel.
“It is getting harder all the time. The sickness is affecting his memory. Most days he doesn’t remember who I am. He doesn’t understand what’s going on.”
“Are you caring for him?”
“Yes, although we have a nurse who comes to help us twice a day.”
“Klara is a saint. You don’t owe that man anything.”
Klara’s face cracks even further. “He’s our father, Hjalmar.”
Hunter scoffs and stares out the window. “Not much of one.”
I peer at Klara. “He wasn’t around much,” she says. “And when he was–”
“He was a grumpy shit who made our lives miserable.”
“Have any of your other brothers and sisters come to visit?”
Here her face brightens again. “Freja was here last week and I hope Ebba might come in the next few days.” She glances at me again. “It’s hard when the family is spread so far apart. It would be nice for us all to be reunited. I would hate for the next time we all meet to be at our father’s funeral. Such a sad reason to be together.”
