Chapter 29
Lo
They’re here earlier than I thought.
I’m sitting at the kitchen table, nursing a lukewarm cup of coffee, my thoughts swirling into the darkness again. I’m trying to wrap my mind around everything.
The mating mark that I gave both Beck and Ford. The way I want to mark Hayes as mine, my Omega side becoming more territorial with each passing hour.
I’m still not sure why I didn’t let Ford mark me in that truck. Part of me aches for his bite right next to Beck’s. But, there’s still something hesitant in the way he treats me. I don’t know, maybe I’m reading too much into things.
Fuck, I marked Ford.
I marked Beck.
I didn’t even ask.
Will they be angry with me? Will Ford get jealous that he hasn’t marked me yet? Will Hays feel left out?
My fingers tremble around my mug. The kind of tremble that sneaks in when you know exactly what’s coming but still wish you could turn away.
My phone buzzes, and I freeze, the screen lighting up with a name that twists my stomach into knots: Eleanor Marsh.
I stare at it like it’s a bad joke. I want to let it ring. I want to pretend I didn’t hear it. But my thumb moves on its own, answering before I’m ready.
I hate that I can’t just delete and block my family’s numbers, even after all these years.
Even after all they’ve done.
“Louisa.” Mom’s greeting is nothing but ice wrapped in velvet. Calm, smooth, the kind of voice that says she’s in control even when everything’s falling apart around her. “We’ve arrived. I’m sure Jamie told you we were coming. So, let’s meet.”
“I…” I swallow hard.
I don’t want to, but what choice do I have?
Mom snickers, and it pulls me out of my trance. “You have a lot of explaining to do. Staying at the townhouse without us knowing.”
Heat burns in my head. I don’t know how to explain this away.
“So, meet us,” she continues. “At that cafe near The Nest. A neutral location.”
Ha. As if she’s doing that for me.
I want to tell her no. I want to tell her I’m not going to meet her. That there’s nothing to meet about. But my voice catches somewhere deep in my throat, and all that comes out is, “I’ll be there.”
Click.
The silence that follows is loud enough to swallow me whole.
“Fuck,” I mutter to myself. “Time to do this.”
There’s a warmth that bleeds through my chest, and I know Beck senses my anxiety rising, even though he’s hard at work at the station. Sometimes, I worry my own emotions will distract him when he shouldn’t be distracted and that he’ll get hurt.
But for now, I just allow his dark smokiness to wrap around me and chase away the piercing light of truth that seems too bright to handle sometimes.
There’s even the smallest hint of Ford. I know it’s Ford, because it’s the softest breeze, like a wind that rustles the needles of pine trees, trying to soothe the wildfire of anxiety threatening to burn me alive.
I know I have to get up. I have to move and get dressed. If I don’t, I’ll talk myself out of this.
The door slams shut behind me as I step out of the house. It’s cold, the sky a washed-out gray that matches the tension knotting in my chest despite the presence of my Alphas.
I should have let Ford mark me.
I shake the thought from my head and focus.
I pull my hoodie tighter around me and start walking, but when I reach the driveway, I notice that the beater truck is no longer there, but my Honda Civic is. For a moment, I pause. Who went and got my car for me?
I close my eyes and, for a moment, I just smile. Ford. It had to be Ford that went and got my vehicle for me. I make a mental note to ask him how much he paid for the damn thing so that I can start to pay him back.
But then all too soon, the heaviness of what’s about to happen weighs me down once more.
My feet drag heavily against the cracked sidewalk. My boots scrape the pavement, the sound too loud in my ears as I make my way down to the café near The Nest. I try to prepare myself for what’s to come.
I wish I had my pack with me.
By the time I reach the corner where the café is, I’m almost sick with anxiety. My breath comes in shallow bursts as I try to calm myself down. I’m not a kid anymore. I’m not the girl who ran from town.
I’m someone else now.
Someone who’s learned how to survive without them.
But somehow, it doesn’t feel like enough.
Beck and the small essence of Ford work in tandem in my chest, massaging around my heart and trying to get it to calm down. When I push open the door to the café, the bell jingles too cheerfully, and I can’t help but wince.
I hesitate, my eyes flicking over the crowd, searching for the familiar faces of my parents. I spot them almost immediately. Mom sitting with her hands folded neatly on the table, eyes as sharp as glass, Dad lounging back in the chair as if he owns the place, his eyes scanning the room.
I hate this.
I want my Alphas.
I want my Hayes.
I’m so stupid for doing this alone.
My heart pounds in my chest, fast and erratic, and before I can stop it, a bitter, burned sugar scent surrounds me. The tension thickens, a physical force pushing against my skin. My pulse quickens, and I can feel the heat rising up my neck, the blood rushing to my head.
I swallow, trying to breathe, but I’m suffocating under their expectations, under the strain of their disappointment.
I regret bonding Beck for a moment, because I know he can feel this when he has a job that requires his full attention at all times.
But just as quickly as the feeling pops up, a swirl of smoke snuffs out the raging fire threatening to swallow me whole, and the soft wind of Ford pushes the dizzying heat from my head.
My stomach churns as I take a slow, steadying breath before walking toward them.
I hate that I ruck my hoodie up a bit, masking the still-healing mating mark on my neck from Beck.
The last thing I need is my family breathing down his neck as well.
His life is too important here for them to meddle in it just because I’ve been reckless.
The clatter of dishes and the low hum of conversation fills the space, but it all feels so far away. All I can hear is the thudding of my own heart.
When they see me, there’s no warmth, no recognition of the girl they used to know. Just that same cold, calculating gaze that I’ve been running from for years.
The moment I sit down across from them, the atmosphere in the café seems to thicken, the space between us charged with all the things we never said, all the things we never could say.
Mom’s eyes flash with disdain, her fingers tapping on the table in a rhythm that matches the rapid beat of my heart.
“You really think you can just come back here, Louisa?” she says, dripping with calm venom.
“After everything? You thought you could sneak back into this town without us noticing? Jesus Christ. Not only did you screw us over back then and run us out of town, but now you’re back like you didn’t do anything wrong? ”
I almost want to laugh at the absurdity of it all. Is she serious? Is she still not ready to accept responsibility for what they did? My throat tightens, and I bite back the words that want to pour out.
She’s not worth it.
Not anymore.
I look at Dad, but his eyes are dark and full of contempt as he leans forward, his elbows resting on the table.
“I’m curious, Lo. What exactly were you thinking?
Staying in the townhouse without telling us?
” He sneers, like it’s the worst betrayal in the world.
“That place is ours. You have no right to use it and destroy it on your whim and wish.”
“I didn’t ask for permission, I know that,” I snap before I can stop myself. The words are out before I realize how sharp they sound. “But I needed somewhere to stay—”
Dad snickers as he leans back, crossing his arms over his chest. “Oh, so the so-called journalism didn’t work out for you? Shocking.”
I part my lips, but nothing comes out. What the hell can I say to that? Anything that would even make a damn bit of difference?
Mom scoffs, sitting back in her chair as she crosses her arms.
“What did you think was going to happen, Louisa? That you would just come back here like you’re some kind of victim? You’ve made your bed. This town chewed us up and spat us out because of you, and now you think it’ll treat you any differently? It’s a hellhole, Louisa. It was always going to be.”
She’s twisting the truth, as always. It was their actions that led us here. Their greed, their choices. And yet, here they are, acting the victim. In their mind, the town betrayed them.
What a crock of shit.
“We have the townhouse to keep our stake in the town,” Dad continues. “We’re a founding family, and no matter what happens, everyone needs to remember that. But it’s not for your personal use just because you decided to throw your own life away.”
I shake my head, frustration boiling over. “This isn’t about you! This isn’t about the family name! You ruined everything, you ruined us. You made our lives hell, and you think you can sit here and blame me for your mistakes?”
“You’re delusional,” Mom snaps. “We didn’t make your life hell. You made it hell. We were doing just fine until you decided to act like some saint, exposing our family, throwing us into the gutter. And now? Now you come crawling back, looking for forgiveness?”
“No,” I say, the word feeling final in my mouth.
“I’m not looking for forgiveness. I wasn’t even looking for you in the first place.
You’re the one that called me, remember?
You’re the one who set up this meeting, remember?
You are not why I came back here. But I’m not going to let you turn this around like I’m the one at fault. ”
The silence in the café is deafening as our words hang around us, each one harder to swallow than the last. The pressure is too much.