37. Joel
Chapter thirty-seven
Joel
My blood burns as I slam my feet onto the pedals and skid out of Willow’s yard in a spray of gravel.
The alpha spirit within lashes back and forth, testing my control.
For an alpha, with our high metabolisms and physical strength to get roofied is a serious matter, so I thought maybe this Alessandro might be a weaker type.
Then he opened his eyes and smiled, and I realized what a gorgeous fucking bastard he was.
One of those smooth European fellows speaking in another language with a dreamy accent.
And a strong alpha presence to boot, even though he’s got it mostly on lock down.
He has better control over it than me, even with all the months I’ve been reining myself in.
No wonder some bitch tried to get her hands on him. With that realization, my thoughts swing from blame to boiling rage, like it’s a personal affront that someone would do that to Willow’s alpha.
And the entire time I stood in that house, I was so turned on by Willow that I could barely function.
I’ve lost the fucking plot.
I push those pedals around with all my strength, my burning muscles distracting me from the storm in my heart.
A hot wind splashes over my face as I ride like the devil’s on my tail. It’s barely noon, but this day already feels a week long. Sweat sticks my shirt to my back, but it’s nothing compared to the inner heat popping and snapping in my gut. Before I’m ready, I spy my van straddling the sidewalk.
With a pair of police officers looking in the window.
Fuck me!
I stop a distance away and remove my helmet. “Hi, there,” I call, dredging up a friendly wave.
Both alphas flinch and whirl around. I hold my hands out wide where they can see them.
“Need something?” The two officers puff out their chests and come a few steps closer.
I point over their shoulders. “That’s my van. I came to get it off the streets.”
Their hands reaching for holsters relax, but not their expressions. “A concerned citizen called it in. What’s your vehicle doing here?”
I scratch at itch sweat caking my hair. Let’s see if I can explain this without mentioning drugs or omegas. “We had a family emergency and jumped in one car. I came right back to get it.”
I’m about to apologize for the clumsy parking but snap my teeth shut. No need to give them ammunition to charge me.
One officer kicks the tire. “You know this is parked illegally, right?”
Dammit. Of all the useless fucking timing in the world, why’d someone have to report it now? “Sorry about that. My packmate had a fit.”
The words roll off my tongue so easily I could even fool myself. Alessandro as my packmate?
An officer steps forward, peering at me. “You seem worked up. Is something wrong?”
I grind my teeth together and flap my shirtfront. “Must be the heat, officer. Can I take my van now?”
“Right after I write you a parking violation.”
A faint growl vibrates my chest.
He looks up. “Something to say?”
Keep your mouth shut, Joel. Keep your mouth shut.
“Bit harsh isn’t it?” Fucking dammit, Joel! But the heat bubbling inside makes my mouth keep running away. “I haven’t been gone long, and like I said, it was an emergency.”
I point at the van and shrug.
His partner lifts his eyebrows. “An emergency? You got a hospital admission record then?”
“No, we took him home.”
“You live around here?”
“I’m . . . staying in the area.” That’s the best I can manage.
The first officer reaches out. “Let’s see your license.”
I pass it over, straining not to punch someone. My hormones rage out of control and I feel like a prisoner trapped inside, going along for the joy ride. I must have a fraction of luck left in my life, because my fists stay at my side while the officer checks my address and writes the ticket.
And when he passes my license back, the address on the card jumps out at me. The ticket will go to my old place, where Tracey is. Yeah, I gotta deal with that nonsense right away.
My jaw aches from smiling politely by the time the officers go back to their patrol car and I get the bike loaded in the back among my tools.
Small blessings, nobody broke in while I was away.
Probably thanks to this fancy neighborhood where people are too busy watching their stock portfolios to jimmy a locked van open.
I drive back to Willow’s house with deliberate slowness, circling the block a few times to see if the cops followed.
When the coast looks clear, I drive up to the house and wheel the bicycle to the shed.
The omega’s forced neatness exists out here too, although the dust suggests no one’s used this space in years.
When I walk back to the house, the sun beating down and gravel crumbling under my boots, a sense of doom settles over me. I lean against my blunt-nosed van and stare up at the mansion. Doesn’t seem like the sort of place I belong.
Even more so with Jeremy and this Alessandro fellow inside.
There’s no room for me in that beautiful omega’s life. She has to know we’re scent matches, but she pulled away when she realized. Plus, I can’t be certain, but she might even be afraid of me. If my presence makes her uncomfortable, well, I can’t go back inside the house.
I text Jeremy that I’m heading out and climb back into my van. But driving away makes nausea roll in the pit of my stomach, and that unfamiliar aggression still lingers, just below the surface.
It’s a terrible idea, really, but after an hour of mindless driving, I head to the one place I never wanted to return to. When I pull up in the driveway of my old house, Jock goes nuts behind the side gate, and his happy barks put a smile on my face.
Tracey’s familiar voice shouts from the back door. “Shut up! Stop the noise, you stupid mutt!”
I click the garage door opener on my sunshield. Her shoes tat across the decking, and then she gasps. “Joel? Is that you?”
I shove my door open and get out, stealing myself. “Yep.”
The door slams and Tracey runs back through the house, coming out the front smiling from ear to ear. “I knew you’d be back.”
That smile, like nothing’s wrong, and the way she spreads her arms for a hug, sicken me to the core. I stare, wondering how my interest for her could dry up so fast.
“Joel?” she steps closer, trying to hug me.
I hop back out of reach. “I came to get my things.”
“You what?”
I circle around my ex and go into the garage, pulling flattened boxes from a pile in the back to pack.
Her voice turns to ice. “That’s really all you came for?”
“Yeah. That’s all.”
“You’re a real piece of work, Joel Williams!” Tracey sets her hands on her hips. “Gone for a week with no word, but now you show up for your junk?”
“That’s how it is,” I say, stuffing my old sports gear and excess tools into boxes. Apparently everything I own is trash; sounds about right for Tracey. She never did want anything of mine inside the house, but at least that means it’s all out here for me to grab.
“What about me?” Tracey demands.
“What about you?”
She screeches in frustration. “You can’t do this to me! You just can’t.”
I pause and turn to look at her over my shoulder. “I’m not the one who started this.”
Her face turns red. “Hands off,” she snaps when I reach blindly for the picnic basket. “That’s mine.”
For the next fifteen minutes she shadows me, nitpicking over everything as I try to pack a lifetime into a handful of cardboard. Her continuous tirade impresses me, covering everything from women’s rights to her work hours.
Task completed, I pause by the entrance to look around. Jock’s leash lays over a crate instead of on the hook, exactly where I left when I last walked him. I snatch it up.
“I’m taking the dog,” I announce, touches of the day’s simmering aggro leeching through.
Tracey backs up a step, staring at me.
“Fine,” she huffs out. “Like I want the stinking mutt anyway.”
Something inside me twists as I turn for the side gate. I didn’t make a mistake; Tracey’s not the person I thought she was when we dated.
Jock, oblivious to anything but the leash in my hand, bounds in the air like a rodeo mustang, his big paws thumping the dirt.
“Calm down, you goose,” I mutter, holding him down bodily to get the leash clipped on. He’s not nearly as well-mannered as Willow’s goldie.
I load him into the back with the boxes, worried he’ll climb all over me while I drive if I let him in the front. Tracey stands rigidly in the drive as I get in.
“That’s it?”
“That’s it.” I shrug and start the ignition. “My lawyer will be in touch about the assets.”
She surges forward, fists thumping into my window. “I hate you, Joel Williams! I fucking hate you!”
The glass quivers with the force.
I stare for a moment, her once-pretty face marred with rage. An equal anger simmers inside my chest, squeezing my lungs. But her outburst tells me she’ll never accept responsibility for what she did. I wasted nearly two years of my life loving this woman.
No more. With a big effort, I force back the alpha intensity until I can answer her calmly.
“I never hated you. But I’m glad I’m free now.”
I throw the van in reverse and back away slowly. My car’s loaded to the roof, but I’ve never felt lighter. Old ties severed, clean and strangely painlessly. I thought my life was ending when I found out she cheated on me. Now I’m glad it came to light before we married.
As I accelerate, I hear skidding in the back. I snort.
Best part is, I kept the dog. Jeremy will be ecstatic.
My smile fades. Just because I’m now a free man doesn’t mean I get to be with Willow.