Chapter 11
11
HUNTER
I fix my tie as I stand in front of my bathroom mirror, feeling like the biggest asshole on earth.
I’m haunted by the ghost of April’s scent, the sweet vanilla laced with the hint of lemon.
It’s the scent of her sadness.
I fucking hate it.
As much as I want to blame him, it’s not just Donovan’s fault, either.
I didn’t do enough to make her know my feelings for her were real.
“You could become obsessed with anyone.”
Her accusation rings in my head.
But it’s not fucking true. Sure, I’m obsessive as fuck, and when I want something, I go for it…
Yet I’ve never wanted anyone the way I want her.
Sure, my pack had Kelly when we were barely eighteen. We were just kids then, and we didn’t know what the fuck we were doing.
That shit ended abruptly when she knew she wasn’t the Omega for us.
Then there was work, and when the pack wasn’t working, there were art classes and charity events.
And I was fine with that.
Life was good.
No, there was never any woman I was obsessed with until April.
Being without her makes me sick.
She told me to leave the other night, and I did…technically.
I just didn’t say where I was going.
If I moved my car and slept a street down from her, she doesn’t need to know.
I just had to breathe in her scent that night.
“Fuck,” I growl, fixing my tie one last time.
We have a charity event, one that April was supposed to accompany us to, but now I don’t even know if she’ll fucking show up.
I mean, she should, because of the contract, but if I were her, I would kick us to the curb permanently.
What Donovan said to her and what he made her believe was un-fucking-forgivable.
I catch Liam’s worried eyes in the reflection of the mirror. He stands behind me, arms crossed. He must have come in when I was lost in thoughts of ways to murder my pack leader.
“Do you think she’ll come?” he asks quietly.
I close my eyes and sigh deeply. “Fuck, I hope so. But I wouldn’t, if I were her.”
Liam nods. “She’s better than us, though.”
He looks just as awful as I feel. I doubt he’s been sleeping much since April left the packhouse. I’ve tried to cheer him up and keep his anxiety from turning into something much worse, but I’m barely keeping it together myself.
“Yeah, she is,” I mutter. “Much better than us.”
“She’ll honor the contract.” Liam grimaces at the word and shakes his head. “Donovan should never have drafted that fucking thing.”
Speaking of Donovan, I’ve barely seen the asshole for the last few days. He disappears for hours at a time, and when he’s in the house, I don’t even look at him.
I can only assume he’s working at the office or in the studio.
If I didn’t know any better, I would assume the fucker was being eaten alive by guilt, though. When I have seen him, he looks like he’s fucking dying. I’ve also caught him mumbling to himself a few times, which is bizarre, even for him.
But whatever he is going through, he deserves it. I hope that fucking guilt consumes him.
We’re not even arriving at the event together like we normally do. Liam and I are taking a separate car just so I don’t have to be in an enclosed space with Donovan for long.
“Fuck the contract,” I mutter for the thousandth time. “It was pointless and the worst fucking thing that asshole ever did to us.”
“I hate this,” Liam murmurs after a moment of silence. “I know that giving her space is the right thing to do, but it hurts . Is it supposed to hurt like this?”
I like to think I have some semblance of emotional maturity, but I don’t have the answers my best friend needs.
Especially when I couldn’t give April the space she needed. I showed up at her door like a psycho.
“I think it does when you’ve found your mate,” I answer carefully.
He leans against the doorway and closes his eyes. “Fuck this,” he says finally.
That’s how I can tell this is really messing him up, too. He’s said fuck more in the past week than I’ve heard him say it in all the years I’ve known him.
I want to tell him it will be okay, but I don’t fucking know if that’s true.
I don’t know how to repair any of this, or win April over without making her push further away.
Maybe Donovan isn’t the only one that needs to work on his shit.
“I think he’s been visiting his mother,” Liam says finally. I turn to face him, leaning against the sink counter.
I frown. “Who?”
“Donovan.”
I shrug. “ Okay? And? Why the fuck do I care if he’s feeling sorry for himself at a cemetery?”
Ouch. That sounded harsh, even for me.
Liam grits his teeth, and I fucking hate the agony that’s etched into my friend’s face.
“I’m thinking maybe it’s connected, somehow,” he says. “Donovan still thinks he wasn’t a good son. Maybe he’s convinced he wouldn’t be a good mate, either.”
Maybe Liam has a point, but I don’t fucking care.
I’m not inside Donovan’s head, and I never want to be.
Liam’s a better person than me. He gives empathy to someone even when they don’t deserve it.
And right now, Donovan is really fucking undeserving of anyone giving a shit about him.
“It’s not my fault the asshole has mommy issues. That doesn’t give him a reason to fuck with our girl.”
“I agree,” Liam says coldly as he nods. “I’m not making excuses. I’m just trying to figure out why.”
He’s pissed at Donovan, too.
“Yeah, well, that’s how we’re different,” I say. “You want to find the reasoning, and I simply don’t give a shit.”
Liam chuckles humorlessly. “That’s true.”
Then something phenomenal happens, and my world turns a little brighter.
My phone buzzes on the sink with a text from a number I’ve memorized.
A number I thought I’d never hear from.
I figured the phone was a pointless thing to give her, but it didn’t stop me from sending April texts of every fucked up thought I had of her.
I didn’t expect her to read them, much less respond, but she did.
“She’s coming,” I say, grinning down at my phone.
“She texted you?” Liam looks shocked. “I thought we were blocked.”
I shrug innocently. “Me too. Guess not.”
I won’t tell him about the other phone—it’s my and April’s secret.
Besides, I can see the palpable relief on my friend’s face, knowing that she’s communicating with at least one of us.
All we need is a little time with her, and we can win her back.
I just know it.
“Oh, I fucking hate this,” I groan under my breath.
“This is ridiculous,” Liam agrees. “The string orchestra is a bit much.”
We’re in a ballroom for the event, with people literally waltzing , like we’re in some cheesy historical drama. There is mingling, a ton of fancy drinks and food, and an orchestra to accompany the dancing. Crystal chandeliers hang above us, the light bouncing off them as chatter and music fill the room.
There was a fucking chariot outside with two white horses, and now I know why.
This shit is fairy tale themed.
I don’t belong here.
“Hunter!” Someone claps me on the back, and I turn to see Tom, who’s dressed in an emerald green suit and sporting his usual think rimmed glasses, grinning widely. “And Liam! Where’s the grumpy one, huh?”
I shrug and match his grin, happy to see a true friend and not someone I have to be fake around. “Fuck if I know,” I say, then motion to his suit. “I didn’t realize this was a costume party.”
Tom narrows his eyes at my barb. “This is custom from Milan. Don’t be a dick.”
I snort. “Wouldn’t dream of it.”
“Not all of us are computer nerds like you, Hunter. Some of us actually enjoy ourselves at these things.”
Which is funny, because I would argue Tom is nerdier than me. He created a new line of code that cybersecurity companies use.
The guy wrote a new coding language .
Besides Donovan, Tom is the smartest motherfucker I know.
And also the most fashion savvy.
I appreciate seeing a familiar friendly face here besides Liam, who is greeting Sophie with a polite smile. She’s dressed in a beaded, ridiculously poofy ball gown that matches Tom’s suit, and she waves when she sees me.
“Where’s April?” she screeches excitedly. “I’ve missed her!”
“Join the club,” I murmur under my breath, and she gives me a confused look.
“Is she not coming? Aww, that’s the only reason I came over to say hello.”
I scoff, then turn to Liam, whose eyes have grown wide as he stares behind us.
“What are you—” I follow his gaze, and my mouth falls open.
April strolls into the ballroom proudly, her hair pulled up with delicate light brown tendrils falling loosely on either side of her face. She wears a blood red strapless gown, not as puffy or obnoxious as Sophie’s, but still appropriate for the event. The train of the dress trails slightly behind her, and she looks like fucking royalty.
Her head is held high with her beautiful, pale neck on display.
I forget how to breathe.
My girl is in front of me, dressed like a princess.
She doesn’t bother scanning the room for any of us; she just walks up to the nearest tray of champagne flutes and takes one in her gloved hand.
I stare, dumbfounded, as her blood-red lips take a sip of the drink.
“Holy shit,” Liam mutters, a choking sound coming from his throat. “Holy…shit.”
Sophie rushes over to her, the skirt of her gown moving as she greets April, who finally looks in our direction.
When she sees me, she gives me a smile.
But it’s not a genuine April smile, sarcastic and playful.
No, this is the smile of a woman that knows the part she’s supposed to play.
It doesn’t reach her eyes. It’s polite and pretty, but it means nothing when there’s not the spark of fire in them.
April has closed herself off from us, and we have no one to blame but ourselves.