Page 98 of The Knotheads Next Door
Before I can think too hard about it, I swipe to answer.
"Bunny?" His voice is tentative, hopeful. "Is that really you?"
"It's me," I confirm, hating the wobble in my voice. "Hi, Dad."
"Oh thank god," he exhales heavily. "We've been so worried. Are you okay? Your mother said she saw you at the festival, but then you ran off, and—"
"I'm fine," I interrupt, the automatic response so practiced it's practically a reflex at this point. "Just... dealing with some stuff."
"Your mother told me about your... condition," he says carefully. "About your heat."
Heat floods my cheeks. Discussing my sex life—or adjacently my biology—with my father is about number eight million on the list of conversations I don't want to have right now.
"Dad, I really don't—"
"No, no, I'm not asking for details," he clarifies quickly. "I just... I want you to know that we should have told you about James. Then we would have known about the late presentation pattern. We thought we were protecting you, but we were wrong. And I'm so, so sorry, Bunny."
The sincere regret in his voice unravels something tight in my chest. For weeks, I've been nursing this anger, this sense of betrayal. But hearing the pain in his voice, I realize something important—he's human. Fallible. Just trying to do his best with the information he had.
"It sucked finding out like that," I admit, my voice softer than I intended. "But I understand why you did it. I think."
"Where are you now?" he asks. "Your mother said you've been staying with... people? Friends?"
I laugh, the sound dangerously close to a sob. "It's complicated."
"Complicated as in...?"
"Complicated as in I've been living with three alphas in a Victorian fixer-upper while working at a flower shop in a town obsessed with seasonal festivals, and now I'm sitting in my broken-down car with a kitten named Gerald trying to figure out where to go next because I accidentally fell in love with all three of them but they think it was a mistake." The words tumble out in a rush, and I immediately want to take them back.
There's a long pause on the other end of the line.
"That is... quite complicated," Dad finally says, and I can hear the effort he's making not to overreact. "Three alphas?"
"That's what you're focusing on?" I ask, a surprised laugh bubbling up despite everything.
"Not the broken car or the part where I'm technically homeless?"
"Well, the alpha situation seems the most... immediate concern," he says diplomatically. "Are they... good alphas?"
The question is so Pops that it makes my heart ache with familiarity. Always concerned about the character of people in my life, never the conventional details.
"The best," I admit quietly. "Kind and steady and infuriating and just... right. But it doesn't matter now."
"Why not?"
"Because I'm leaving," I say, ignoring the sharp pain in my chest at the words. "Because they don't want... this. Me. Not permanently."
"Did they tell you that?" he asks gently.
I think of Wells's words, of Jasper's refusal to look at me after my heat, of the careful distance they all put between us. "They didn't have to."
"Rowan," my dad says, using his serious voice that always made me listen as a child.
"Running won't make the pain go away. Believe me, I know. After your Dad and I found out about James, I almost left. Almost ran away from the mess and the hurt and the complicated feelings. But if I had..."
"You wouldn't have had me," I finish for him.
"Exactly. Sometimes the most painful, complicated situations are worth staying for. Worth fighting for."
