Page 74 of Pack Rivals: Part Two
“Connor?”
“Yep, that’s what he said he was called.”
“Oh, crap.”
“Want me to tell him about the leprosy?”
“No,” I yelp. “Just, I don’t know, distract him or something while I get dressed.” I fling back the covers, then halt. “But do not show him the photo album.” My dad grins. “Dad!”
“Do we like this man?”
“I haven’t decided yet. I’m kind of angry with him and his friends right now.”
My dad’s expression darkens. “Maybe I’ll go check his brakes for him.”
“No, do not leave him alone with mom,” I beg.
He gives me a look I know means he’s not making any promises and closes the door.
I crane my ears as I burrow through my suitcase looking for something that isn’t dirty or creased to wear. Eventually I find a sundress, throw it over my head, drag a brush through my hair, a wand through my eyelashes and my toothbrush over my teeth.
I don’t know why I’m making an effort. I should have stumbled out of bed in my Snoopy pajamas without a care in the world. But being back here, the reminder last night of just how badly Karl screwed me over, has put some things in perspective. Maybe one day I’ll find it in my heart to forgive Karl, but certainly never, ever in one trillion, billion, million years will I take him back.
Those alphas hurt me. But their crimes in comparison seem somewhat trivial. Could I let them back into my life?
I haven’t been able to forget Nate and the cake. Or Silver donning a pair of marigolds and picking up trash.
Could I?
I’m not sure.
I find Connor sitting on the sofa next to my dad, an open photo album spread over my dad’s lap.
“We had to call the fire brigade,” my dad says, and I know exactly which photo he’s pointing at.
I race over, snatch up the album and slam it shut.
“Did he show you the pageant one too?” Connor nods and stands. “Dad!” I say, whacking his shoulder with the album.
“I thought he’d be interested,” my dad says.
Connor meets my eye, opening his mouth to say something just as my mom comes bustling into the lounge with a tray of coffee and muffins. She looks incredibly flustered as she places the tray down.
“Here, refreshments. For you young folk.” She stands up and smoothes her hands over her skirt, inspecting Connor with obvious admiration.
“Actually, I was hoping we might go for a stroll.” He smiles at my mum. “I used to live here about fifteen years ago. I wouldn’t mind a tour of the old place.”
“Sure,” I say, motioning towards the door.
My mom trots behind the two of us, seeing us right towards the door and watching as we stroll down the pathway and out to the sidewalk.
“Your parents seem–”
“Manic?” I ask.
“Like they care about you. You missed the tenth degree I got from your dad. He only pulled the album out once he seemed satisfied with my answers.”
“Oh my god,” I say, covering my face with my hands. “What did he ask you?”
