Page 83 of Pack Rivals: Part Two
“You weren’t meant to know about that,” I say.
“Is he your boyfriend?”
“No,” I say firmly.
“Does he want to be your boyfriend?”
I drum my nails on the tabletop. “I don’t know.”
“But he’s the reason you’re feeling irritable?”
I wonder if that’s true. Right now, I don’t feel comfortable in my skin. I’m grumpy and skittish. If the dates weren’t all wrong, I’d think I was experiencing some hardass PMS.
I wonder if it’s being back home or if it’s something to do with being an omega.
“You seemed pretty relaxed in his company,” my dad says, “and you’ve been walking around like a bear with a sore head ever since he left.”
Is that the problem? Lack of alphas. Just the thought of their scents, their deep voices, their strong bodies, has my shoulders relaxing and my body sinking into my seat.
Would the presence of any old alpha have my bad mood dissipating? Or is this all about a certain group of alphas in particular?
I was half expecting another one of them to rock up on my doorstep yesterday. Or at the very least a string of messages hassling me about whether I’m applying for that job, whether I’m returning to the city.
But they’ve been quiet. Which could mean they’ve forgotten me. Or could mean they’re giving me my space. I have a feeling it’s the latter. I hope it is.
I rest my elbow on the table and my chin in my hand.
“Do you want my advice, Cupcake?”
“It might depend on what it is. Mom was advising me to forgive Karl and get back with him two days ago.”
My dad frowns. “If you even think about doing that, I’ll have the doctor around in a heartbeat certifying you medically insane, because you’d have to be to take that jerk back.”
“I know.”
“My advice. Go back to the city, Cupcake.”
“You don’t want me here? I promise I’ll stop taking my bad mood out on the tables.”
“Of course, I want you here. But not if it makes you unhappy. Truth is, I think you’ve outgrown Naw Creek. I think you may have outgrown it years ago. There are more opportunities for you in the city, more chances to be who you’re meant to be.” I think of the ecological foundation trainee scheme. I think of those printouts perched on my desk. “I know things aren’t working out for you right now, Cupcake. But I’ve no doubt they will. I’ve no doubt if you persevere you’ll find a place and a life for yourself out there. Just,” he pinches my chin, “don’t give up. Anyone who can get up and make a speech at their wedding reception when their jerk of a fiancé has bolted, can do anything she wants.”
“Urgh, that speech was horrible.” I ranted and raved for thirty minutes before someone wrestled the microphone away from me along with the bottle of champagne I’d been necking.
“It wasn’t. It was kick ass. I wish I’d recorded it. Could’ve shown it to that young man two days ago.”
“Oh my God.” I laugh, burying my face in my hands. “I need to destroy that photo album.”
“No chance.” My dad smiles. “Don’t waste your time out here with us old fogies and your asshole of an ex. Get back out there, Bea, take life by the horns and ride it anywhere you want it to go.” He picks up the dish cloth resting on the bench beside him, and tosses it back towards me. “Right, back to scrubbing. Let’s get this place closed up and head home.”
* * *
My mom greetsus on the doorstep as we pull up fifteen minutes later.
“You have a parcel,” she says, clutching my hand and pulling me along after her. “From the city.”
“Oh?” I say, unhooking my purse from my shoulder and hanging it on the back of a chair.
A parcel the size of a shoebox sits on top of the kitchen table. My mom hovers by my side.
