Chapter FiftyEvan
Chapter Fifty
Evan
G race sat sandwiched between us as Wes drove us through the mountains to where my cabin was. Originally, we were going to take my car, but Grace had insisted we take the truck so we could all sit up front together.
For that, I was grateful. The contact of her leg against mine, her head resting on my shoulder, grounded me, keeping me from panicking.
Last night, someone tried to shoot me.
The trainings I’d been through at work all involved someone coming after a client or attacking the Center. Nowhere did we go over someone tracking me down when I was off the clock.
My heart sped as I thought of Rose’s uncle aiming a gun at me. We’d been having a great time, eating, dancing, enjoying each other’s company and boom…
It could have ended so differently.
Because it was a hotel and a restaurant, he had no problem getting up to us.
He overpowered the staff when he couldn’t get in.
Detective Esposito apologized for not being able to hold him for longer.
Apparently, he’d threatened people at the station and someone who overheard me tell Detective Esposito where we were going for dinner told him.
Wes squeezed my hand, feeling my anxiety through the bond. Grace snuggled further into me.
Grace.
She’d put herself between the gun and me. It made my heart swell a thousand times. It also made me want to swat that little ass until it was red for putting herself in danger and not getting under the damn table.
I handed her my water bottle, and she took a drink and closed her eyes. She was hung over as fuck.
Not that I felt much better. I had trouble sleeping and kept raiding the liquor cabinet and bouncing between Wes’ bed and Brennan’s, needing reassurance that everyone was okay.
That I was okay.
Which was why Wes was driving, listening to some perky-ass station, sipping on an iced coffee while the two of us cuddled in misery.
My phone buzzed. I’d been texting back and forth with my boss, getting an incident report filed for last night. I’d also been texting with Rose to make sure she was okay.
Brennan was being an annoying alpha fuck and kept checking on me. My phone beeped.
Carly
You okay? Claire told me what happened.
Her mate was coming over later when Spencer was home to make that door so Grace could use my bathroom.
Me
I’m okay. Thanks.
I’d be okay. Because I had my pack, my family. I pressed my lips to Grace’s forehead. Her eyes opened, and she smiled, then draped herself over my lap.
“Are you okay driving, Wes? I can take a turn,” I offered, despite being content with my Grace-blanket.
“It’s not that much longer until we get to town. We can stop at that little cafe and have something to eat. Maybe we can show Grace the town–if that doesn’t spoil any of your plans,” Wes offered as he navigated the narrow, curvy roads. “You two should eat something.”
A glance at the clock on the dashboard told me that we were making good time. “That sounds nice. Want some food, Peaches?”
“Eh.” She shrugged.
“After we eat, we can get ice cream,” I suggested, because she should eat something. “There’s this little place that makes this farm-to-table, locally-sourced, ice cream. It’s so good. The labels even tell you the names of the cows the milk is from.”
“Okay.”
Grace and I dozed until we got to town. I pointed out the lake where we liked to take out the boat, the mountains we skied on, and my favorite shops.
“We’re people who snow ski?” Her eyebrows rose.
Wes laughed. “I know, right? We have a boat, too.”
Riley sent me a picture of her hand with a pack ring on it. Aww. I knew Spencer had one made for her, and I was glad she finally had it.
“Going boating was common where I grew up. I can even waterski. Never been snow skiing though.” Grace leaned over me to look out the window.
I’d never actually heard it called snow skiing before .
We pulled into a wooden country restaurant with a big porch. This was our favorite breakfast and lunch spot when we came up here.
The place was done up with all sorts of country decor. The server seated us immediately. It was busy but not crowded, and delightful smells tickled my nose.
I slid into the booth, placing myself next to the wall, and Grace slid in next to me, putting her head on my shoulder. Instead of sitting across from us, Wes joined us on our side. It was a snug fit, but not unpleasant.
“Is this okay?” Wes asked us.
Grace nodded, hooking her arm through Wes’, head still on my shoulder. “Yeah. Ugh, why did I drink so much?”
Same reason why she hadn’t let go of me this morning.
“Can I get you something to drink?” the server asked, giving Wes an appreciative look as he handed us menus.
“Ginger fizz, please,” I replied. I needed something to settle my stomach.
“Coffee,” Grace mumbled.
“Iced coffee–and waters for everyone,” Wes ordered.
Grace gave him a look but said nothing.
“Where exactly did you learn that you should hit shooters with chairs? That wasn’t something we learned at the Center–or in the military,” I asked, stroking her hair as the server left.
“It’s something they teach teachers in the active shooter unit of the classroom management class. Chair, fire extinguisher, anything within reach. I mean you try to keep them out, but sometimes they get in.” Her eyes closed.
“Is that common at schools where you lived? People shooting children? ” The thought made my heart palpitate.
“Sadly. That’s why we run drills.” Her head bowed.
“That’s fucked up,” Wes said softly as the server brought our drinks.
“Yep.” Grace added a whole lot of sugar to her coffee.
Wes pushed her water toward her. She gave him a look and took a gulp of coffee. No, she wasn’t going to win that one. I took a sip of my ginger fizz.
The server came back. “What are we having today?”
“I’ll have a bacon cheeseburger and fries,” I ordered. That should do the trick. Grease and carbs.
“Fried chicken,” Wes said.
Grace frowned at the menu. “I just don’t know… oh.” Her eyes lit up. “Biscuits and gravy with a side of bacon.”
The server gathered our menus and scurried off.
“I remember that my dad used to make the best biscuits and gravy. Haven’t had that in ages,” she sighed. Polishing off her coffee, she held up her cup as the server came past.
“I know you loved your dad, but I never understood how he could let your mom be so awful to you. If I had kids, I wouldn’t let anyone harm them, let alone my spouse.” Wes pushed the cup of water toward her. “Do you know why? Is that something you remember?”
“Yeah.” She poked at the ice in the water cup with her straw. “For a long time, I didn’t either. After my mom disowned me, he divorced her. Made her and my brothers hate me even more. Anyhow, he apologized to me.”
The server put a pot of coffee on the table.
“He did?” Wes asked.
“He did.” Grace refilled her mug. “Then he explained why he hadn’t stood up for me as much as I wanted him to.”
“What was his reason? Because I would have left her when she sent you to camp and gotten your ass out of there,” Wes said.
“He tried to get me and wasn’t allowed by the camp.
He was against all of it. The drugs. The holds.
The dumb church doctors. The essential oils.
Saying I was troubled. But…” Grace chewed on her lower lip as she added sugar to her coffee.
“He wasn’t my dad. All my life I had no idea that he wasn’t my biological father.
He’s the dad of my brothers, but not me.
I was a baby when he met my mom. I guess my mom always pulled the You’re not her real dad, you don’t get a say card.
He apologized for not having done more to protect me. ”
Shit.
Wes pulled her to him. “Wow.”
“I had no idea. That’s why he was mostly reactive–getting me my blankets back when she was at Bible study, making my favorite foods after we had a nasty fight, cheering me up with dad jokes.” Her body shuddered as she sighed.
“Did you ever contact your biological father? Do you remember that?” I asked quietly, scooting closer to her, wanting to soothe her, too.
She shook her head. “My dad didn’t know who he was.
Asking her meant talking to her. I was too slammed working and going to school, and I just didn’t have time for daddy drama on top of everything else I was trying to work through.
His identity died with her, and I’m okay with that.
My dad is my dad, and I forgave him for not doing more–especially when I found out all the ways he tried and failed to help me. ”
So much to unpack there. My heart ached for her.
“I’m going to hit the bathroom before our food comes.” She crawled over Wes and left the booth.
“I wasn’t expecting that,” Wes told me, taking a sip of his iced coffee.
“Me neither. If you had kids?” I kept my voice quiet, but it bothered me, and I needed to address it. “When did we go back to if? ”
That hurt. I was in my thirties, and I wanted kids sooner rather than later.
Wes put his arm around me. “I was trying not to spook Grace. She’s not ready yet–and she’s afraid she won’t be a good mom. I also don’t want her to think that we only see her value to our all-dude pack in being that she has a baby factory.”
“Oh, okay.” Relief filled me. “She’s just starting her career. I can respect that. Don’t worry, I’ll reassure her that everything is entirely her choice. I don’t think she’s gotten to that unit yet.”
Wes blinked. “You will?”
“Of course. I’ve given that talk a million times. Because of that whole ingrained attitude about female omegas being made to give male alphas babies.” I rolled my eyes. “Also, she doesn’t have to have them. There are other ways.”
Which we’d looked into, since while there’d been a couple miracle births in the past couple decades, most male omegas couldn’t carry children–me included.
“We will get kids, eventually.” Wes squeezed me.
“How? Cabbage patch?” Grace said, frowning as she squeezed between us. “I messed up the kid timeline, didn’t I?”