One Last Chance (Venusverse #1)

14. Chapter 14

Chapter 14

Rowland

This file has no end to it, does it? I scroll past a few pages, making my already burning eyes roll to the back of my head. These interns think that if they put in as much information as possible, it somehow counts in their favor. Instead, I can barely find the right data I need to pick out to actually do my job.

I press the button to call the reception. “Riley?”

“Yes, Mr. Hall?”

A trickle of numb pain passes down my chest.

“Could you please make a meeting sometime at the beginning of the next week with the new interns and their supervisors? I think I have to go over with all of them the requirements for a proper report that doesn’t impede productivity,” I say with a tired sigh.

“Of course.”

“Just put it in whatever time slot I have free. It doesn’t matter.”

I hear her hum pensively. “There aren’t very many at the beginning of the week, unless…well, unless you skip lunch again on Tuesday.”

The faint discomfort at the back of my head moves toward my temples and gets stronger, slowly building up into a slight migraine. I rub my eyes. “That works.”

Riley stays quiet for a moment. “Are you sure?”

“I said to make the meeting, Riley,” I say, maybe a little too sharply. Before I get the chance to apologize, a prolonged beep announcing another call on the line interrupts me. I look at the screen, seeing a familiar yet groan-inducing name. “I got it. Make the meeting and go home. It’s late. Enjoy your weekend,” I tell her and sever the connection.

I take a moment, draw in a deep breath, and prepare for the grating sound that’ll come from the other side. “Afternoon, Preston.” Hopefully, my tone is lively and not-as-annoyed-as-I-am enough.

“Afternoon? It’s basically the evening, Hall,” says the loud, scratchy voice.

I blink slowly. “I suppose.”

“You still at work?”

“No, Preston. This call is simply a figment of your imagination,” I mutter.

“Boy! You really should go home. Cranky. You’re never this cranky. Then again, you’ve been like that pretty much the last…what, four months?”

Clenching my jaw, I dig my nail into the plastic covering of the phone’s cord. If only it was easier to snap it apart. I’ve been cranky to you ever since we’ve gone to college, because I couldn’t stand you even back then , I want to say, but bite the inside of my mouth instead. “Not to be impolite,” I let out another dig, “but does this call have anything to do with work, by any chance?”

His annoying laughter nearly blows my eardrum.

“Ah, Rowland, you’re getting to be just like your old man, you know? Anyway—yes, I’m calling you because of work, believe it or not. I talked to the people from Berdrust and they accepted the proposition. I still think it’s a pretty risky move, working with them, considering how finicky that damn company’s heads are, but I suppose it all worked out just like you said it would. No risk, no reward, just like your father used to say.”

Something inside me releases. A small pressure plate among many. In the grand scheme of things, it doesn’t do much to relieve my inner tension, but it’s some good news.

“Great. You called just to tell me that?” I ask, leaning back in the chair. The door closing I just heard must have been Riley. I never would have let her work this late if she didn’t start later than usual today. Then again, she would have insisted anyway.

Preston lets out a snort. “Well, pardon me for giving you the good news. Figured you’d be glad to hear. It was a pretty big win, especially to the people actually working closely on the deal, like myself.”

Does he really want me to praise him for his job? “Well done, you’ve earned a gold star. And by gold star I mean the salary increase you’ll gain thanks to this success. Like I said you would. Now, I would love to chat, but I have some more paperwork to finish up and emails to send, so if you’ll excuse me…”

“Man, get out of the office and go spend time with your family, would you?” he says, sounding annoyed, like it is any of his business.

Feeling my teeth cry out under the pressure of my clenched jaw, I will myself to stay quiet. “Right. Good chat, we’ll speak on this more on Monday at the board meeting,” I spit out my words firmly and put the phone down.

With a deep exhale, I sink into my chair and hang my head back. Carefully, I rub my temples, enjoying the silence. Too bad my mind is screaming. Names, dates, things to deal with, emails to write, people to please, deals to research… As I finally turn back to the computer, ready to get back into it and crunch the rest of my responsibilities, my stomach twists the moment I check the calendar.

I almost forgot. 'Saturday. Help Hope.'

The coffee I had a few hours ago nearly comes up, so I close the app, intending to ignore the reality of it until tomorrow. There’s only so much chaos and distraction my mind can take. Instead, I home in on the work, hoping to get lost in it as I always do.

By the time I arrive home, the house is dark and silent. On the kitchen island I find a covered apple pie with a little post-it on it with a heart from Mom. I smile, but even though I haven’t had anything since lunch, I’m too tired to even think about eating.

Dropping my work bag by the bedroom door, I quietly head to Mac’s room. My body fills with ease and relief at seeing his peaceful sleeping expression. I kneel, petting his little head, and place a kiss on his forehead.

Mina’s door is locked and there’s no light coming from under it, so I just pass by.

The exhaustion really sets in once the bed is in my sight, like my brain goes ‘alright, we’re done for today then’. I throw my jacket on my armchair, undo my tie, and unbutton my shirt. To hell with a shower.

I plug in my phone by the bed and drag my heavy feet to the dresser to get out something to sleep in. Somehow, in the dim room with only a small lamp illuminating it, and my mind already going, I open the wrong drawer and pause.

Who am I kidding? I didn’t open it by accident. At least not consciously.

My chest feels like it’s being enclosed inside an iron maiden. Despite that, there’s a nearly euphoric wave of tranquility that passes through me the moment his scent spills out of the drawer. His drawer.

I chase that feeling, reaching for that stupid pink and yellow shirt with bananas on it, the one he put on after we made a mess of our clothes when he was in heat. As I draw in the prickly, delicious smell of his, I see him sitting on the bed in it and nothing else, looking all embarrassed and shy after the obscenities he told me the night before in the worst of his hormonal mindlessness.

Then, just as volatile as my emotions have been lately, the sensation starts fading away. The feeling escapes me and instead, what’s left is only me. Me, pathetic and desperate, clinging onto a piece of cloth like it is a living being, like it’s Dayton. Like he could still be here with me.

“Dad?” I nearly jump, quickly dropping the shirt back. I turn to Mina cautiously standing in the door, darting her eyes across. “You’re home,” she says, voice low.

I clear my throat and push the drawer to close with my back. “Hey. Why are you still up?” I try my hardest to erase the fact that I was moments from falling apart.

Mina’s eyes, dark in the shadows of the hallway, appear lifeless and cold. She opens her mouth to say something but stops herself. “Just…I need this signed and dropped off at school for the trip on Sunday. I forgot about it yesterday.”

Ah. Another thing that escaped my mind.

“Damn. Sorry, sweetpea. Leave it here, I’ll sign it and drop it off tomorrow before we drive to your mom’s,” I tell her while reaching for the right drawer this time.

“Alright,” she peeps, dropping the paper on the narrow table below the mirror right by the door. “Night.”

“Goodnight,” I say, but by the time I turn, she’s gone. I stand there, staring into the dark hallway, wondering if we will keep drifting further and further away, and how long it will take before we are so far apart there is nothing I could do to pull her back in. The therapy was supposed to help. Make things at least a little better. It hasn’t. Now Mina seems even more isolated and enclosed than ever.

I need to sleep if I want to survive tomorrow with some sanity intact.

With only my sweats on, I drop onto the bed, completely relaxing every tight and aching muscle. Breathing deeply, I close my eyes and hope to fall into the carefree embrace of unconsciousness.

Halfway between sleep and awake, my hand drifts to the side, searching for the familiar comfort. The warmth isn’t there.

I miss you, and I’m so afraid I’ll never stop.

?

If I never had to come to Madisonville ever again, it would still be too early. But here I am. At least Mac is excited. I don’t think he’s actually been here in over a year.

“Let’s see Mom, yeah?” I say with the best fake smile I can muster while turning to him. Seeing his excited grin eases my anxiety a little, at least. Mina avoids my gaze and gets out by herself, heading for the trailer.

I get Mac out and follow. The memory of my last visit here flashes in front of my eyes, the anger that burned inside my chest still as palpable as it was before. I push those feelings aside for the sake of the kids.

“Hello, my love,” I hear Hope’s voice. Mac slips out of my hold and runs toward the trailer’s flimsy door where she’s hugging Mina. She glances up at me, giving me a brief, one could say non-offensive look. “My cheesy Macky Man!” She kneels down, letting him hop into her open arms. I hate when she calls him that. It’s beyond stupid.

“Focus,” I mutter sharply, but quietly. Hope catches me talking to myself. She steps aside for the kids to get in and stands back up, leaning against the door.

“You really came,” she says doubtfully as I come up to her. The kids are already inside, no doubt raiding her special candy cabinet.

I frown and fight with myself to keep my tone calm. “Of course. I said we would.”

Like I am the one constantly canceling plans and not keeping my word.

“Mhm. How kind of you.” Sarcasm tinges her voice for a moment, in the same sly, passive-aggressive way I’ve hated so much near the end of our relationship.

She’d use it more and more, until every word she said felt like a veiled insult, building up my insecurity and worry about our relationship into a monster towering over every moment we spent together. A stark contrast to the days we serenaded our love to each other and used punny double entendres to flirt all day long.

“You’re still going to help me look at the radiator, right? It smells so weird and Jordan’s out for the weekend. He hates letting any strangers into the house.”

I suppress a disgusted scowl. “And he’ll be happy about a nasty alpha messing around with his electrics?”

Biting back feels good. As I pass by her to walk inside, Hope scoffs. Thankfully, she’s smart enough to keep quiet, since she needs something from me.

“Besides, you’re aware I’m not the most technically gifted individual.” And yet, I’ll have a look and see what I can do, because I don’t want one of my children to burn down in their sleep with this trailer when they’re spending their time here.

“ Thank you, ” Hope says, playing up the niceness of her tone as a joke. A stupid, foolish part of me stirs because it reminds me of the old her. Of the times when she meant it.

I smile at Mac and Mina sitting at her rugged couch, watching TV with gummy sweets and colorful sugary balls on their lap.

“The sugar makes him ten times more hyper than he already is,” I note while we walk into her bedroom.

“Stop being so uptight. It’s fine.”

It isn’t, but I don’t have the strength to argue.

Ignoring the posters and books around the room is in my best interest, but I can’t help from glancing around briefly. They’re pretty much as deranged as I expected. “Where even is he, that he can’t take care of his own house? On some stupid rally?” I ask, kneeling by the ancient-looking radiator. It does smell like something's burning. Not a good thing, I wager.

What am I even looking for? My god, why am I here?

“Stop it,” Hope grumbles. “I’m sorry that his interest in building a meaningful community with other betas offends you so much.”

I roll my eyes in response and turn my attention back to the radiator. Nothing inside this thing looks broken, and the plug is fine. Not so much the socket.

“I think it might be the plug socket. I’ll need to unscrew it to check the fuse. Would you mind getting me a screwdriver?” Hope nods and starts digging through some boxes in her jam-packed walk-in closet space. “I really can’t believe you live in this place. You can do so much better, you know? I’m not paying you alimony to live like…this.”

She lets out an annoyed sigh. “See? This is exactly the problem. You and your fucking… pomposity . You think you are so much better than me because you live in that big, expensive house, don’t you?” She starts going off on me, lowering her voice only once she meets my eyes and sees my deep frown. With a screwdriver in her hand, she stomps toward me and throws it on the ground by my feet.

If I was some arrogant, pompous prick, I would’ve left right this second.

“You enjoyed living in that house, if I remember correctly. In fact, you helped choose it.”

“Well, I’m glad I cleared out of there to make space for your omega playmates then,” she snaps back bitterly, suddenly reminding me who Mina gets her viciousness from.

I swallow the uncomfortable lump in my throat and hold in the painful tingling her words send through me. We don’t say anything until I pull out the plug cover. Probably for the better . “Looks like the fuse is blown.” And even to my layman’s eyes, the wiring itself looks sketchy as fuck.

“Hmm. You can replace that with a new one, right? He should have that stuff here somewhere. I’ve definitely seen it,” she says, more talking to herself, and starts rummaging through boxes again. Her ability to act like she hasn’t just said some heinous shit to me amazes me.

I sit there in silence, feeling drained by her and…empty.

“Anyway, about Jared,” she starts again. Spare me, please . “He really would be much more forthcoming to you if you gave him a chance.”

I nearly laugh. “He quite literally hates me for who I am, Hope. You want me to give him a chance ? How?” I’m getting heated. The anger boils at the bottom of my stomach and I do my best to not let it reach my head. Especially with the kids in the earshot.

“Maybe he wouldn’t dislike you so much if you didn’t keep my children from me, you know? He’s a family man. He actually cares about that stuff.”

As long as those children are betas.

“Are you serious right now?” I finally turn to her, lifting my arm in an exaggerated gesture to point out that her kids are a few feet away right this moment.

She frowns, grimacing like a pouting child. “You know what I meant! Mac hasn’t spent a night here once. How can Jared— his stepdad —bond with him if he can’t even spend time with me without supervision? Like I’m some damn criminal and not his mother. The one who birthed him!” She raises her voice, tapping a finger against her chest.

I clench my teeth and exhale deeply through my nose.

“Because I’m the adult whose care he’s in, and you and your husband can’t be trusted to not expose Mac to things he’s not ready to be exposed to. Or that are inappropriate for him. Especially your husband,” I mutter under my breath.

“There you go again, making him some sort of villain. Screw you, Rowland. Mac should be ‘exposed’ to his mother !”

“He is right now, and how is that going?” I growl at her, intentionally keeping my voice low, unlike her.

“All you do is puff your chest out at me and act like you’re above me, like you’re the one who should rule the world and all our lives! Like I’m one of your submissive, slutty omegas. I’m not! So get your fucking pheromones in check. It’s disgusting!” She shouts before slamming the door closed behind her, leaving me in the room alone.

I look at my trembling hands. She might not be an omega, but she still knows that my pheromones aren’t seeping out because I’m trying to control or suffocate her. They’re out of control because my soul aches when she makes me feel inadequate and monstrous and not at all like the man I want to be around her.

Sometimes, life feels like a losing battle.

She’s not coming back, so I lifelessly search through the place she was looking around and after a few minutes, I finally find a little box with spare fuses. I replace the old one, hoping it’s enough to prevent some sort of tragedy and put everything back as it was.

Dread grows inside me with each step to the door. When I open it, I decide that I’ve resigned from this whole situation. I’m simply done.

“Fine,” I say. The voice that comes out of me sounds unfamiliar and distant. Hope looks up at me from the couch where she sits with Mac in her lap. “Keep them for the day. See how it goes. I’ll come pick them up in the evening.”

I don’t even look or explain more to Mac. In my peripheral vision, I see Mina giving me a puzzled look but I just grab my keys and head for the car.

I drive in silence for a little while until the path takes me where I need to go. Thankfully, there’s barely anyone in the cemetery’s parking lot. I’m glad, since it feels like having to face even one stranger and forcing a polite smile would undo me.

It’s been too long since I came here. Too long since I’ve seen Dad.

Not just a horrible husband, but a horrible son, too…

I’m not in the habit of drowning in self-pity, but it actually feels sort of freeing. Thinking like the entire world is going to implode just because my life isn’t going the way it is, and fully surrendering to the feeling that my emotions are all that matters, is so simple. So as I walk through the quiet, gloomy path, surrounded by graves in contrast with beautiful old oaks, I enjoy it, knowing once I stand in front of Dad, he’ll have none of it.

The pragmatic, sensible part of me, the ‘strong alpha’ archetype I should strive to live as, livens up the closer I get to that familiar spot at the raised section of the cemetery. By the row of thinner trees and behind someone’s extravagant statue of the angel of death is my family’s gravesite and down below the smooth marble face of it lies Dad.

I stop in front of the headstone, staring at it blankly for a moment. Like I was used to and taught to stand in front of him, I keep my shoulders back, my back straight and my head high…but it doesn’t last long.

“Hey,” I say, and with that breath falls all my false strength.

I play with my fingers hidden inside my jacket’s sleeves, nervously rubbing my thumb and index finger together. “What’s with that face, son?” Father would ask in that hearty voice that always exuded respect but also warmth.

“Sorry I haven’t been here in so long. I got tangled up in work, mostly.” A faint smile flashes across my lips. “You’d probably understand.”

Silence.

It’s unsettling. Cold. As if someone is actually supposed to talk back to me. As if I’m not just talking to a chunk of stone.

“Mom is doing fine. Most days you could hardly tell she lost her soulmate,” I say with a shallow chuckle. I know he would’ve smirked at me right now. “No suitors still, don’t worry. But she’s handling it well. I’m proud of her. You’d be proud of her.”

Another moment of silence.

I’m used to talking to Dad but suddenly, it is like a light switches in my mind and it starts racing. So does my heart. My palms sweat. What the fuck am I doing , I ask myself, the voice inside my head overbearingly loud and booming . There’s no one here. Your father is dead and you’re alone.

Pressing my lips together firmly, I rub the bridge of my nose to stop the tears that threaten to burst through.

“I’m so lost, Dad,” I whisper, near a whimper, and let out a shaky breath.

More than anything in the world, I wish he could somehow materialize in front of me and answer. If only he could be here, give me that confident look he always had, put his hand on my shoulder and tell me how to fix my mess of a life.

“I’m so damn lost and the person I want to reach out to for comfort the most is…out of my reach.” A chilly breeze of wind blows through my hair. I squat down to lean over the flat stone, holding my face in my hands.