28. Ash
28
ASH
W e step out of the market, and my mother exhales like the place physically offends her. “Where can we get a decent breakfast?”
I bite back a sigh. “We can go to the diner.”
She stops walking, her heels clicking against the pavement as she turns to me with an expression of pure disdain. “Absolutely not.”
Liam makes a noise of agreement, wiping at the blood drying at the corner of his mouth. “I refuse to eat in a place that smells like fryer grease and disappointment.”
I clench my jaw. “It’s where I eat.”
My father waves a dismissive hand. “We’ll drive to the next town. There are proper restaurants there. Get in the car.”
I glance back at the market, at the stall Grace is still standing behind, shock still written across her face. The instinct to stay, to make sure she’s okay, pulls at me. But my father is already moving toward the car, and I know there’s no use arguing.
So I go.
* * *
The restaurant they pick is a quiet, upscale place with white tablecloths and waiters who move like they’re gliding. It’s the kind of place my mother insists on, the kind of place where appearances matter more than the actual food.
As soon as we sit, Liam smirks at me, tilting his head. “You could have at least gotten cleaned up before breakfast.”
I exhale sharply. “Didn’t have time—I needed to cater to our mother’s restaurant standards.”
Liam chuckles, but my father just levels me with a look. “Watch your tone.”
I don’t respond. There’s no point.
A waiter appears, taking drink orders, and as soon as he leaves, I lean forward. “What are you doing in town?”
My father barely glances up from his menu. “I told you, handling business.”
“In Westbrook?”
His eyes flick to me. “You always were observant.”
“So, what’s the plan?” I ask, leaning back. “Swoop in, buy up the land, push out the locals, and build something no one here can afford?”
He tilts his head, as if considering my words. “If it makes money.”
I exhale, shaking my head. “And let me guess, you’ll claim it’s for the town’s ‘growth and development.’”
“You think I need to justify my investments?”
I don’t answer, because I already know how this goes. My father invests, makes his money, and leaves a trail of displaced families and overpriced real estate in his wake.
Before I can say more, Rachel leans forward, eyes sharp with something between amusement and malice. “Speaking of the town,” she drawls, “why did that Omega we met earlier smell like you?”
I still.
Rachel’s lips curl. “And other Alphas, for that matter. What is she, the town slut?”
Heat flares up my spine, fast and violent. “Watch your mouth.”
She blinks, feigning innocence. “I’m just curious?—”
“She is none of your concern,” I say, my voice cold.
My mother sighs. “There’s no need to get so touchy, Ashton.” She picks up her coffee cup, taking a delicate sip. “In fact, I think she should join us for dinner. I’d love to meet the woman who has you so enthralled.”
I scoff. “You never wanted to meet my last girlfriend.”
Her gaze doesn’t waver. “That was in the past.”
Something tightens in my chest. “The past,” I repeat.
She nods. “And since we’ll be in town more regularly, it’s better we get acquainted.”
I look at my father. He doesn’t object, which means he’s already decided this is happening.
Fine.
“The other Alphas will come, too,” I say.
My father’s jaw ticks. “That won’t be necessary.”
I hold his gaze. “They’ll be there.”
His lips press into a thin line, but he doesn’t argue.
Which means, for now, I’ve won.
That is until my mother simply says, “One of them at a time, don’t you agree, son? Besides, I don’t want that brute near Liam for now.”
Liam scoffs, arguing that he could absolutely take Jake down, but no one else is listening.
* * *
I don’t go back to the market. I can’t. Not after that disaster. The shame sits heavy on my shoulders, pressing down like a weight I can’t shake off. Instead, I go home.
I pace. Sit. Stand. Check my phone. Consider texting Grace. Don’t.
What am I supposed to say? I’m the reason she’s losing her house. The entire town will be affected by this. Still, I can’t hide here.
I tell myself I’ll go when she gets home. That I’ll talk to her then. But I still can’t move until I see her walking toward the house next door, flanked by Rowan and Jake.
That’s when I finally step outside.
Jake spots me first, his expression unreadable as he keeps his arm around Grace. I nod to Rowan, who looks like he’d rather shove me into traffic than talk to me.
I clear my throat. “I wanted to apologize.”
Jake raises an eyebrow. “For what? Your family being a bunch of assholes?”
I sigh. “For what Liam said. What my parents said to all of you.” I look at Grace. “I’m sorry you had to hear that.”
Jake exhales sharply. “Liam’s a douche.”
“Yeah.” I rub the back of my neck. “Which brings me to the reason I came over.” I shift on my feet, glancing at Grace. “My family wants to meet you tonight. Officially.” I turn to the others. “All of you. One at a time.”
Rowan’s scoff is immediate. “Not happening.”
Jake crosses his arms. “Agreed.”
But Grace tilts her head, watching me carefully. “This is important to you?”
I swallow. “Yeah.”
She doesn’t look away. Then, with a nod, she says, “I’ll do it.”
“What?” Rowan snaps.
“I’ll do it,” she repeats, “but I’ll keep you all updated.”
Jake sighs but steps in, pressing a kiss to her forehead. “Make sure you do.”
Grace smiles, stepping back. “I need to get dressed.”
I exhale. “Me too.”
I head inside, stripping the sweater off my back as I go. The guilt is still there, still clawing at me, even as I turn the water on and step into the shower. The heat scalds my skin, but it doesn’t wash away the tightness in my chest.
By the time I’m done, I’ve forced it down enough to dress—slacks, a sweater vest, something that screams sophistication. Something that reminds them I was raised in their world, even if I don’t belong in it anymore.
Then I go next door.
I step inside, ready to tell Grace we need to leave, but the second I see her, every thought in my head vanishes.
She stands there in a deep red dress, one that clings to every curve, one that makes my throat dry.
Rowan swears under his breath.
Jake just mutters, “Wow.”
Grace grabs her purse, about to step forward, when Rowan stops her with a single word.
“Wait.”
She blinks. “What?”
Rowan folds his arms. “If you’re going anywhere near Liam, you’re going scented.”
I should have seen this coming.
Jake grins. “He’s right.”
Grace exhales, but she doesn’t protest.
Then Jake moves first, stepping into her space, his hands sliding over her hips as his lips press against her neck.
He kisses, licks, nips—claiming her skin with his scent, with his touch. Rowan joins in, his mouth at her pulse point, his hands gripping her waist.
Her breath hitches. Then she moans.
It’s a soft, desperate sound.
Jake drags his teeth over her throat, and her head tilts back, her fingers curling into Rowan’s shirt. She’s gasping, eyes darker, body pliant between them.
Then she swallows hard, voice breathy. “You two had better stop.”
Rowan smirks. “Why?”
She shivers. “Because if you don’t, we’re never leaving.”
Jake chuckles, pressing one last kiss to her jaw. “Fair point.”
She takes a steadying breath, then looks at me. “What about you?”
I smirk. “I’ll do that in the car.”
Rowan rolls his eyes, but Grace just shakes her head, amused.
She leans up, kissing Jake and Rowan softly before turning to me.
“Let’s go.”
I take her hand as we step outside. She squeezes lightly. “You okay?”
I exhale. “I just want today to go well.”
She stops, looking up at me. “It will. I’ll be there.”
Then she kisses me—soft and slow, steadying me in a way I didn’t realize I needed.
I smile, pressing a kiss to her forehead before she slips into the car. Then, with dread curling in my gut, I get in and start the drive to whatever hell awaits.
It takes almost an hour to get there, and the longer we drive, the more tense Grace gets. When we finally arrive at the restaurant, she’s avoiding my gaze.
“I should’ve brought something,” she says, fiddling with the hem of her dress. “A gift or something.”
I glance at her. “I feel bad for subjecting you to this at all.”
She turns, eyes sharp, before cupping my cheek. “We’re a team, Ash. A pack. I’m your Omega. The only opinions that matter are yours and the pack’s.”
I study her, my chest tightening. How did I get so damn lucky?
I lean in to capture her lips in a kiss that turns wild almost instantly. My grip tightens on her waist as her nails rake down my back. My Alpha surges forward, desperate to claim.
Grace pants against my lips. “We can’t,” she gasps when I nip at her jaw. “We’re late.”
I exhale, resting my forehead against hers. “Okay.”
I help straighten her dress, brushing my hands over her waist. As she smooths her hair, I watch her, the realization hitting me like a freight train.
I love her.
I am so fucking in love with her.
It claws up my throat, but I bite my tongue. Not here. Not now.
As soon as we step into the restaurant, the air shifts.
The ma?tre d’ barely glances at us before giving a tight-lipped smile. “Right this way, Mr. Bennett.”
I don’t correct him. My name still carries weight, whether I want it to or not.
Grace walks beside me, her fingers brushing mine. I resist the urge to take her hand. Not because I don’t want to, but because I know my family.
If I give them one more thing to pick apart, they will.
The restaurant is dimly lit, all dark wood and low conversation. Servers move with precision, balancing silver trays and gliding between tables like ghosts. It’s high-end, the kind of place meant to intimidate.
And then we’re led through a set of glass doors onto a private terrace.
My mother sits at the head of the table, poised and immaculate. My father is beside her, straight-backed and cold. Liam and Rachel sit across from them, with matching expressions of entitlement.
Grace steps slightly behind me, her posture tight.
I clear my throat. “Mom, Dad, you remember Grace.”
Liam smirks. “Oh, we remember.”
Rachel’s eyes flick over Grace, then to me, something smug in her expression. “We were just wondering what kept you two.”
I don’t take the bait, but Liam isn’t done.
“I’d ask why you’re late,” he drawls, leaning back in his chair, “but I can smell it on you.”
Rachel snickers. My mother sighs, adjusting her napkin.
I grit my teeth. Grace’s face burns, but she doesn’t lower her gaze.
I pull out a chair for her. She sits, smoothing her dress, and I take the seat beside her. A waiter appears almost immediately, handing out menus.
“Would you like to hear tonight’s specials?” he asks.
“Oui ,” my mother says smoothly.
The waiter begins rattling off the options, all in French. I glance at Grace. She’s frowning slightly, eyes scanning the menu like it’s written in code.
I lean in. “I’ll order for you,” I whisper.
Relief flashes in her expression, and she nods.
When the waiter turns to me, I don’t hesitate. “For her, the filet de b?uf with the truffle reduction. Medium rare. And a glass of the Margaux.”
She exhales, offering a small smile. “Thank you.”
Liam raises a brow. “Ordering for her already?”
“Liam,” my mother warns.
I ignore him.
The conversation starts out polite—forced small talk about Westbrook Real Estate opening a new branch in Driftwood Cove. My father talks about expansion. My mother comments on the local architecture. I keep my responses clipped, focusing on my wine glass more than anything else.
It’s when the food arrives that things take a turn.
“So, Grace,” my father says, cutting into his steak, “tell us about your family.”
Grace hesitates, setting her fork down. “My parents were nomad Omegas. They passed away when I was little.”
There’s a beat of silence. My mother’s lips press together.
“And you were taken in by extended family?” my father asks.
Grace shifts. “No. I was raised in the system.”
I feel her tense beside me. My grip tightens around my knife.
Liam lets out a low whistle. “The system, huh? No pack to claim you?”
I shoot him a look.
He raises his hands. “I’m just saying. No wonder you latched onto Ash so fast.”
Grace stills.
Rachel smirks, swirling her wine. “I mean, you have to admit—it’s a bit convenient.”
Liam lets out a low laugh. “No, wife. I’m pretty sure what you’re suggesting would require a certain level of intelligence. What you’re looking at is an unclaimed mutt! Feral.” He spits the last word out like it’s arsenic.
Something inside me snaps.
I move before I can think, my fist colliding with Liam’s jaw.
He stumbles back with a grunt, knocking over his wine glass. Red spills across the tablecloth like blood.
“Ash!” my mother gasps.
Liam wipes his mouth, eyes blazing. “What the fuck?”
“You don’t get to talk about her like that,” I snarl.
Grace shoves back from the table, her chair scraping against the floor. When I look at her, expecting shock, I find something else entirely.
Rage.
She turns to Liam first. “You think you can disrespect me because of where I came from? Because I wasn’t born into wealth like you?”
Liam clenches his jaw but stays silent.
Her attention shifts to my parents. “And you just sit there? Let them say these things?”
My mother sighs, adjusting her napkin. “Grace?—”
“No,” she cuts in. “I’m glad Ash isn’t like you.” Her voice shakes with anger. “I feel sorry for him, having to grow up around this, and I hope I never see you in my town again.”
Then she looks at me, her expression softening. “I love you, Ash.” Her voice is thick. “But you deserve better than this.”
Then she’s gone.
I stand there, breath unsteady.
My father scoffs. “Uncouth little?—”
I turn sharply. “Don’t.”
His eyes narrow. “If you leave, you’re cut off. No inheritance. No seat at the company.”
I don’t hesitate.
I turn and follow her.