Chapter 17
Chapter Seventeen
I’m ready to let go of my reservations. It’s a decision I’ve been ruminating over throughout the past several days. Ever since the night Colin showed up and tried to force his way into the apartment.
Shepherd cracked the wall around my heart when he went Alpha on Colin, pinning him to the wall for daring to touch me.
He would have laid my ex flat if I hadn’t intervened.
No one has ever stood up for me like that.
Remembering the protective growl he’d loosed when he stormed into the living room has arousal pulsing between my thighs.
But it was Foster who dealt the final blow that shattered the walls around my heart.
He spent hours arranging pillows and blankets to build a fort in their living room.
His reason? Kaitlin. Noticing that nightmares had woken her several times the night before, he’d stepped in and created a safe space for her to rest. A place she would know she was protected because we were all there with her.
How can I continue denying the pull I feel to them when they constantly put in the effort to make sure we’re taken care of? These men have more than proven they are ready to accept all three of us, baggage and all.
Now, it’s my turn to give us a chance. No more using my marriage to Colin as an excuse. We’re legally separated with a divorce pending. I need to stop hiding behind my fear and live again.
My pancakes lose their perfect circle shapes when a phone rings through the kitchen.
The sound is shrill in the otherwise quiet space.
I turn, pressing a hand to my chest to calm my pounding heart, and spy Shepherd’s phone on the table.
He appears a moment later, giving me an apologetic smile when he sees how frazzled I am.
It’s silly that something as simple as a loud noise can startle me. Colin’s appearance four days ago did more damage to my anxiety than I originally thought. I can’t shake the fear that he’ll come crashing back through the front door to take me away.
Breakfast is ready and waiting when Shepherd returns. Pursed lips glare at his phone before he slides it into his pocket and scrubs a hand through his strawberry-blonde hair. When he glances up, he gives me a tight smile. “I’ll grab Foster. There’s news you both need to hear.”
Nausea churns in my already sour stomach as I call Kaitlin into the kitchen and help her wash her hands.
She’s settled in her seat and already eating when Foster saunters into the room.
He’s shirtless—his favorite way to sleep, apparently—and grinning.
“Good morning, Little Princess!” He ruffles Kait’s hair as he passes by, beelining for where I stand at the other end of the table.
I’m barely breathing as he stops right in front of me, the lemon notes of his scent strong this early in the morning.
Lips brush my ear as he leans closer, wrapping me in a loose hug.
“My bed wasn’t nearly as warm without you in it, Angel. ”
“I-I’m sorry?” I stammer, my brain failing to come up with a flirty retort. Fates, I’m going to be awful at this! I haven’t tried to flirt with anyone in… well, ever.
“Let’s eat,” Foster declares, stepping away from me with a wink that raises gooseflesh on my arms and down my spine.
I let him pull out my chair and pile food onto my plate, enjoying the way his free hand rubs tiny circles into the skin above my knee.
The sparks from our connection seem to jolt from that innocent touch straight to my core, building my desire to an agonizing peak.
Plates are cleared and piled by the sink before Shepherd sits us down to talk. “Donovan called.” I swallow thickly, fingers pinching the hem of my t-shirt as I await whatever bad news he brings. “After the concert last Friday, someone tried to break into Bea and Omen’s apartment.”
Foster sucks in a sharp breath, and his scent sours, turning astringent with his worry. Instinct has my hand slipping into his and squeezing tight. “Are they okay?”
“They’re both fine. The security measures at their place were enough to prevent an actual break-in. As a precaution, Donovan moved them both into temporary lodging. Bea is with her boss, and Omen is with Pack Graves.”
I can’t help but frown, hearing my sister has been forced to stay with the mates who rejected her.
Even after hearing from Foster about their ambush and apology at the concert, I doubt Omen is ready to be stuck sharing space with them.
She’s fragile. A situation that those jerks caused.
What if being there is too much, and she spirals again?
“He spoke with her doctor, who agrees this is the best place for her to be. As much as we’d love to say she can move on and find a new pack, the reality is she can’t. She needs them,” Shepherd explains. “We won’t let them hurt her again, I promise. I’ll kick their asses myself if I have to.”
Nodding, I try to calm my rising fear for my sister’s life. If her doctor thinks this is for the best, I have to give it a chance to work before I demand they move her elsewhere. “Was the break-in a random act of violence, or were they targeted?”
Shepherd slides a hand across the table to claim my free one. His palm is warm and rough as it engulfs mine. “Lex, the bodyguard who was assigned to Omen over the summer, installed cameras outside the apartment. They caught the attempt on camera. It was your brother, Ben.”
“Wait, Ben tried to break into her apartment? Why would he do that?”
They don’t answer. No one will know why my brother is after Omen until he is caught and interrogated by the police.
While I don’t understand his reasons for targeting our sister, it isn’t surprising. Ben’s wife, Jacqueline, hates Omen. She always has. Going as far as to drug my sister with black market heat inducers. Twice. That woman is as twisted as my parents, but she doesn’t have the same backing they did.
“As long as Omen is safe, that’s what matters.” Foster pulls his chair closer and tugs me against his side. I lean into him, taking the comfort he offers as my thoughts fly in a hundred directions.
“Have they found my mother?”
Shepherd shakes his head. Of course, they haven’t. She would have run as soon as she realized the FCDA was breaching the church. Mother always preferred to hide in the shadows, whispering her evil to others. Only behind closed doors did her true nature rear its ugly head.
“I got a call from Miss Adler. A federal judge has agreed to hear your divorce and custody case. They’ve set the court date for next Monday.
” Relief sweeps through me. If I weren’t already sitting, it would have knocked my legs out from under me.
There is hope now that both my children and I will be free of Colin’s control.
Foster pulls me to my feet, urging me into the living room where our fort has been moved to cover the couch. “Let our Alpha do the dishes while we cuddle. I need you in my arms.”
Settling into the corner of the couch, I lean against his chest and melt. My head falls to rest on his shoulder, and my eyes flutter closed. “You’re very relaxed today, Angel.” His hands brush against my sides, up and down in soothing motions.
“I’m ready.” The admission is barely a whisper, but it feels loud beneath the canopy of blankets and twinkling lights. His hands freeze on my stomach, and his breath catches in his throat. I peek one eye open, watching as his throat bobs with an audible swallow.
“Ready for what?”
Turning my head to the side, I press my nose against his scent gland. My lips brush his skin as I answer. “For us.”
I giggle when he groans, his hips lifting to grind against my backside. He’s clearly happy and turned on, but makes no move to do anything about it. A grin stretches across his lips, and his hands continue their paths up and down my sides.
“You’ve done it now, Angel! We’re going to sweep you off your feet!”
Despite his promise, nothing happens between us immediately.
We’re thrown into chaos again when Shepherd gets called into the DAU to help track Ben.
Foster is also gone a lot, having to cover at the community center when the usual manager is down with the flu.
Kaitlin and I join him a few times and hang out with the older kids, but it’s hard to leave the apartment knowing there are still so many threats lurking in the dark.
Monday morning comes fast, leaving us standing outside the courtroom and waiting for our case to be called. Lilah looks amazing in her form-fitting black slacks and silvery top. A blazer rests on a nearby chair, something she said she’d throw on when we go in.
Given that the temperature today is in the mid-nineties and the courthouse air conditioning system is struggling to keep up, I understand her losing the extra layer.
I wore a simple sundress, one of the few outfits I have that still fit and are respectable enough for this situation.
Sweat still trails down my spine even in the breathable material. I couldn’t imagine wearing pants today.
A man steps out of a nearby door and calls out to the room. “Docket 67439. Colin Boyd, Hannah Montgomery-Boyd.” I grimace hearing my married name, but shove down the discomfort. If today goes the way I want, I can lose both names permanently.
Lilah leads the way, guiding me into the small room.
There are two wooden tables with an aisle between them, and two rows of additional seating.
Lilah claims the table on the right, directing Foster, Shepherd, and Kaitlin into the seats behind us.
Nerves make my legs bounce as we wait for Colin to arrive.
Minutes pass, deepening the judge’s scowl. No one else shows. Not Colin, nor his lawyer. We’re the only ones in the room.