ChapterThree
WHITNEY
I get home a little after five. I didn’t eat any of the food that was set out. My stomach was too sensitive, and I didn’t want to risk vomiting and ending up in a vulnerable position. One thing about my mother is she knows how to take advantage of me when I’m least suspecting it.
I drop my keys and purse on the little table next to the front door of my apartment.
Unlike the house I grew up in, this place actually feels like a home. I don’t have much, but the Omega Council assigned me to a furnished apartment when I turned eighteen. I didn’t have to take it, but I wasn’t about to stay in that place for longer than I had to. The walls are a soft cream color and the floors are clean despite being worn. My family isn’t here.
That’s the most important part.
Slipping off my shoes, I head to my bedroom to change. There’s a singular key on my nightstand. Granny gave me the key to the safety deposit box when I turned eighteen, but asked me not to open it until after she passed. I haven’t had the courage to go to the bank to see what she left me, but eventually I’ll have to. I peel off the top and throw it in the trash. I can never wear it again without thinking about my mother. There are small bruises on my shoulder where she grabbed me. I push on one, hissing in pain. They’ll linger for a while. I take off my pants and decide to throw them away as well. Today wasn’t even about her and she ruined it.
Your mama loves you, baby. She just doesn’t know how to show it.
Granny’s words echo in my mind, and I scoff, shaking my head. Granny was convinced her daughter loved me. The only love I ever felt was when I was with Granny. When we baked tea-sized cookies. When we danced in the kitchen to old records. When we watered the flowers in her garden. That was all love. She let me in. She wanted me there.
I remove the tape and tracker from my chest, blinking back a fresh wave of tears. I have to do something or I’m going to end up crying all night long. Securing the tracker in the drawer of the bedside table, I grab the robe off the back of the bathroom door. I slip it on and send a message to Lindsey.
Whitney:Hey. What are you doing tonight?
I watch the little typing bubble, frowning at the device. My heat is going to come soon. I’m terrified I’ll end up like my mother. What if I can’t control my emotions? What if I hurt my alphas like she does? What if they end up hating me?
Lindsey: Hey, babe! Thirsty Thursday means party time. You down? It’ll get your mind off of things.
Whitney:Pick me up?
Lindsey: Nine-thirty. I have some things to drop off, and I’ll bring a few minis so we can pre-game.
I toss the phone on the bed and head to the shower. Four-ish hours to get ready. Four hours to stop overthinking my entire life.
* * *
By the time Lindsey knocks on my door, I’ve put on enough makeup to cover how red my eyes are. My hair is styled in soft waves, and I’m wearing the prettiest bargain store dress I own.
“Hey, Whity Whit.” Lindsey smiles and takes me in. Her grin falls a little when she looks at my dress, but she quickly flicks her eyes back to mine. “How are you holding up?”
“I can’t talk about it. Are you ready?”
Her long blonde hair is sleek and shiny, her hot pink dress short and tight. She’s basically Malibu Barbie. She shifts, opening her giant purse. “Almost. I brought you something.” After a second of digging around, she pulls out a shimmering silver dress. “This is for you.”
“Lindsey,” I whine. “I can’t afford to pay you for that.”
“Come on, I’m not asking you to do that. I want you to have it. Consider it a thanks for letting me keep my stash here.” She shakes her purse, various pill bottles rattling around inside of it. “Besides, that outfit is not it.” She checks me out again, displeasure pulling at her lips.
Jerk.
I bristle. The dress isn’t as nice as the one she brought, but it’s pretty. The sky blue looks nice against my skin, and the material is soft and stretchy. I like it. Anger floods through me, and for a moment, I consider slamming her head into the wall. Realizing that’s fucking crazy, I simply take the dress from her.
“Hurry, hurry! I’ll put this stuff up and get us chasers for the minis.” She brushes past me, not noticing that she offended me. Setting her purse down on the coffee table, she takes the bottom cushion off the couch and begins stuffing her pills where the cushion and back of the couch meet. She’s the only one who comes to visit, so we’ve never really worried about finding a better spot to hide her drugs.
“Thanks for the dress.” I clutch it to my chest and rush to my room. Once the door is shut and I take a calming breath, I remind myself I’m grieving and yelling at Lindsey for talking shit about my clothes is only due to emotional overload.
I drop the silver material on the bed and pull off the blue dress. My bra will work for the new one. I pull it on, clasping the choker-style top at the back of my neck. Okay. To be fair, this dress is gorgeous. I twirl in front of my mirror. Tight in all the right places, glimmery, and soft as silk. Lindsey’s heart was in the right place.
“Whit! Get out here.”
“Coming,” I say, glancing at myself one last time. I smile, or try to. It’s more of a baring of teeth. I’ll definitely need alcohol if I’m going to socialize. Lindsey will be pissed if I scare the men off with my snarl.
