Chapter 23
Chapter Twenty-three
Parker
“Are you and Cross doing Middle Ground?” Dylan asks, sitting down across from me with his tray of food.
I like Dylan. He's from a neighboring pack and we grew up seeing him at gatherings and celebrations.
He's a year or so older than Cross. I don't know why he's here.
He's as reluctant to talk about his issues as everyone else is.
He doesn't outwardly seem any different than he ever has before, but that doesn't mean anything because neither does Cross.
“No.”
“How come?” he asks, stabbing his fork into his plate of pasta. “You could win.”
That's exactly why we wouldn't compete. We would win.
Well, I would win. Cross couldn't compete because he's still having trouble shifting, but no one needs to know that.
If he were to compete it wouldn't be a competition at all.
Instead of telling Dylan any of that, I redirect. “Are you doing Middle Ground?”
“I don't know,” he says. “Maybe. I'd like to win the prize, but I don't know. The only person I'd really like to challenge is Walker.”
“The money? How much is it?” I didn't realize there was an actual prize other than the money in the betting pools.
“I haven't checked. There aren't too many challenges yet so there's not much to bet on. No, the prize is from the admin and staff. It's not money. It's kind of like a favor that the winner gets. Like they can ask for something they want while they're here.”
That sounds like a disaster in progress. “What kind of favor?”
He shrugs and takes another bite. “It sounds like anything within reason. I'm sure they'll shut it down if someone asks for something unacceptable or excessive.”
“Where did you hear about this prize? There's nothing about it in any of the registration paperwork.”
“I guess it's something new they're offering. They were talking about it in the gym this morning. Didn't you get the note? This morning?”
“No, I didn't.” I stayed in Cross's room last night and we left out before breakfast to go on a run with a few other people.
“It's not a big deal. Most people were talking about asking for special meals or days off or things like that. Yall's girl was there.”
I fucking hate that. Aside from the she-wolves who spend a lot of time making their availability known to Cross, a lot of people here make remarks about Genie being our girl.
I fucking hate it. Sometimes I wish Cross would spend a night with one of the other women here just to quell the gossip. “Genie isn't our girl.”
“You keep saying that,” he says, smirking.
“She isn't. Everyone knows what happened.”
He nods. “Yep. Everyone knows. But I saw her sneaking out of your room this morning, so...”
Sneaking out of my room? This morning? “What?”
“After breakfast. It's okay, man. Lots of us share.” He looks down at his plate, pushing the last few bits of food into a pile. “Just not with the Alpha.”
“We aren't sharing Genie. She isn't with us. She isn't with Cross.”
“Then why is she sneaking out of your room?”
I get up, leaving my untouched tray on the table. “I don't know.”
“Are you finished with this?” he yells as I stalk towards the door.
I don't answer. Why was she in my room?
***
I don't know what's worse, the fact that she returned it soaked in her scent or the knowledge that she wore it enough that my scent faded completely.
My shirt, the one she stole from me after we escorted her back from the hunt, is folded neatly on the center of my bed.
I can smell it from here. It's on my bed.
It's been on my bed since this morning. My bedding will smell like her.
I wish she had kept it. Or burned it. Or at least thrown it away.
But no, she returned it, and brought with it her scent to take over my room, and people saw her do it.
How was she able to get in? That's what I need to focus on.
That's the bigger problem. Are the codes so easy to break that anyone can do it?
Did she bribe a member of the housekeeping staff?
Did she simply overpower the latch? This isn't a jail cell or anything like that, but there are locks on the door for a reason.
I have to get that shirt out of here. I don't want to breathe her in until the scent fades.
“Hey,” Cross says, stepping in behind me. “Dylan said you –“ The words just stop coming as his nostrils flare. “What is that?”
“Genie brought back the shirt she borrowed.”
I watch his nose literally twitch as he takes in her scent. “She didn't wash it first.”
I turn my head to look at him. “No, Cross. She didn't.”
“What are you going to do with it?”
I tilt my head, curious. “What should I do with it?”
He stares at the innocently folded material for long seconds, rubbing the back of his neck. “I don't know,” he says finally. “Give it back?”
“Do you want her walking around here wearing my shirt?”
His mouth opens and closes a few times, but no words are produced.
Oh my Goddess. He does.
“Cross.”
“What?”
“Do you like that idea?”
He sighs. “Not me.”
Right. “Your wolf, then?”
Cross nods and it looks like it might hurt a little more than his pride.
“Keep it,” I suggest. “In your room.”
He shakes his head. “I can't. It would be disrespectful. And creepy.”
“She wore my scent off of it and returned it full of hers. That's creepy.”
“No,” he says, trying not to smile. “That was spiteful, but not creepy.”
“It doesn't bother you that she did that?”
“Honestly, Parker, I don't care about it as much as I should. If you could feel my wolf's reaction to a piece of clothing with her scent on it, you'd understand. I'm afraid to be bothered by it.”
“Keep it,” I tell him again more firmly. “But in your room. Maybe in a box or something so it isn't there in the open all the time.”
“I'm sorry.”
“Don't be.” I reach out and take his hand in mine. “It's okay. I get it.”
Intellectually, instinctively, I do get it. I understand why Cross's wolf would be ecstatic to have something that smells like Genie. But I'm still jealous. Even after all this time and the self-imposed separation, I'm jealous.
“Let's go find a box,” I say, and drag him out of my room.
I wait until we're outside and walking down the path to the dining hall to bring up Middle Ground.
I know he still won't want to participate, but I have to talk about something to keep me from stewing over the damn shirt.
“Dylan says there's a prize for Middle Ground, not just money from the pools.”
He nods. “I heard. It seems kind of juvenile, but small things mean a lot when you're away from family and your pack, I guess. If I had the opportunity to get my mom here to cook for me, I'd probably do it.”
“Are you thinking about joining?”
“No. I wouldn't even if I could. Alphas shouldn't be allowed to compete.”
“Right. I just wanted to ask. It would be good to eat some real food, though.”
We walk a few more feet then he asks, “What would you ask for? If you won.”
I think about it for a while. I don't know what I'd ask for that wouldn't be considered excessive.
I want Cross to get his shit figured out and fixed.
I want to go home. I want real food, my mom's food.
I want about four solid days of sleep. I want to run through the woods without feeling like I'm running from something.
Nobody can give me any of those things. “Maybe I'd want a bonfire. Like the ones we have during the Summit. That might be good.”
“A bonfire?”
I nod. “Anything else I'd ask for is waiting for me at home.”
The kitchen staff didn't ask any questions when they gave Cross a food-grade plastic container big enough to hold my tainted shirt, which is good because I don't think there is a way to explain it that doesn't make the three of us sound like childish idiots.
Cross has group meditation this afternoon.
Genie has it with him. I don't know how it's going, he doesn't tell me everything and I don't ask.
But Middle Ground is in a few days and people are talking about it.
If Genie was at the gym this morning when they were discussing the new prize, then she's probably planning to participate.
Cross might not care too much about that, but his wolf might have an opinion or two.
I usually walk with Cross until the path splits and I stop him before he heads off. “So, I think Genie is going to do Middle Ground.”
“Genie's going to do the fights?” he asks, incredulous. “Why? Who would she challenge?”
I don't tell him that she might be tempted to challenge any one of the women who have been throwing themselves at him, even though I think it's fairly obvious. “I don't know, but I thought you might like time to prepare yourself for it. That is if you intend to watch.”
He sighs. “I don't know if I'll be able to sit it out. If he thinks she's in danger...”
That's exactly why he should sit it out. “Maybe she won't go.”
He shakes his head. “She'll go. She'll go because she knows it'll get under my skin.”