6. TREY
Chapter 6
TREY
Although I’ve done it many times, I regret falling asleep in that chair at my father’s bedside. I stand up and roll a stretch down my whole body, reaching my arms to the ceiling. It barely helps.
I see my father stirring in his bed. His vitals had tanked sometime after I’d fallen asleep, and I woke up to the doctor turning on the lights and several nurses in the room.
I can only hope Violet didn’t hear the commotion while sleeping on the other side of the house.
I’m glad that they were able to get him stable. I’m glad he’s stirring now. But I dread every interaction with him because I’ll have to lie about an exile being in town.
I can’t tell him about it. He won’t want Heather to live no matter what her role is in Violet’s wedding. His loyalty to the law is more steadfast now in his last days.
And I’m pretty sure we’re looking at his last days at this point. I don’t think he has weeks to live anymore.
That’s what the doctors told us earlier this month, but after last night, I’m not confident he’ll make it to the end of the week. I know it’s terrible to think this way. But I have to consider these things because when he’s gone, I’m Alpha. And I’m not ready for it.
“Good morning, Father.” I smile at him and lean forward in my chair.
He struggles to sit up. “Trey,” he licks his lips, “can you get me some water, Son?”
I reach for the rolling table over his bed and pull it toward us. Then, I pour water from the pitcher into the small cup there, add a straw, and hand it to him.
He’s sitting up now, leaning against the pillow and opening his eyes. Maybe the doctors are right about him having a few more weeks.
He drinks his water, his throat moving slowly, and takes a deep breath, his chest rising under the sheet. He turns to me.
“What exactly happened last night?”
“Your vitals tanked. We don’t know why. The doctors and nurses on standby got you stabilized and took some blood. They’ll have more answers tomorrow morning after it comes back from the lab.”
“They can’t tell us anything sooner?”
“No, it’s something about how long it takes for the tests to mature? I don’t understand all of it, but I trust that they’re making this a priority. They know who you are, Father.”
“I see.” He frowns. “What’s on the agenda for you today?”
“More wedding crap with Violet.”
“Do you really need to be the one to take her around to do all these things? Why not let one of the assistants do it?”
Fuck. I can’t tell him the reason it has to be me. I come up with some bullshit lie on the spot and hope he buys it.
“She wants me to do it. Her fiancé can’t see her dress or any of the designs, and there are a few other things she wants to be a surprise. She already has to do this without a mother. It’s not a problem for me.”
“You’re not letting this get in the way of your duties to become Alpha, are you?”
“No, Father. The meetings for that are mostly in the evenings. I’m available by phone as well. Violet is important, too. We have to show her that she’s important.”
He hands me the water cup, a scowl on his face, brows pointed down toward his nose.
“Fine. I suppose you’re right.”
“I am.”
“Go then, do your wedding stuff with your sister. I’ll be okay. We can’t do anything else until the bloodwork comes back anyway.” He waves me off.
“Okay, Father. I’ll be back this afternoon.”
“Don’t worry about me.”
“I’m not.” I am, but it’s not what he wants to hear. “I want to spend as much time with you as I can, to learn from you.”
He smiles at that, his face softening, “Okay then, I’ll see you this afternoon.”
I leave, hoping that Father is as content with my explanation as he seems.
After changing and showering, I notice that the hot water has helped my sore muscles from sleeping in the bedside chair. I feel better. I head downstairs and find Violet in the kitchen.
“Are you ready to go?” She looks up. “I want to get down to the shop and talk to Heather.”
“Shh,” I say sharply and put a finger to my lips.
“What?”
“Don’t say that name. Just call her ‘the designer.’”
“Oh, for fuck’s sake, Trey. Don’t be so paranoid.”
“It’s not paranoia if they’re actually out to get you.”
She rolls her eyes at me, and I ignore her while I get my coffee in my favorite insulated mug.
“We can order coffee out, ya know.”
“I do know. But I like this coffee.”
“Snob.”
“Brat.”
She laughs and crosses her arms, plants a sneer on her face, and taps her foot while I take my time making my coffee.
I’m not letting my baby sister dictate my morning routine. Fuck that. After I have it all done, we head out, her carrying a comically large designer purse.
“What could you possibly need that you have to bring such a huge bag to go talk about a dress design at a bridal shop?”
She looks at the bag, then back at me. “I have my wedding shoes in here, the headpiece I’m using, swatches of the groom’s colors, and samples of the other stuff we have for the wedding venue decorations.”
“Why do you need any of that? She’s just showing you some sketches.”
“You wouldn’t get it.”
“Because I’m a man?”
“Because you’re an idiot.”
I glare at her, and she stares right back as we walk outside and get into the car. We’ve done this many times before. The drivers have seen it, and the one we have today shakes his head and closes the door behind us. I call out our destination to him.
“We’re headed to the grocery store first?” Violet asks.
I look forward, “Yeah, the one on the corner before we get to the shop.”
Violet doesn’t gloat about winning our stare-down. “Why are we stopping there? Couldn’t you get one of the assistants to do that?”
I have to stop myself from bursting out laughing at how similar she is to our father.
“I can’t have an assistant stopping by the bridal shop with groceries. I don’t want to tell them what to get because then it’ll be obvious that someone is living there.
As far as the world and the pack know, you have a designer from Jessie’s personally designing your dress, and you don’t want anyone seeing it or knowing which designer it is because Heath—uh, her unique design style would give away your dress design.”
“Okay, so what does that have to do with anyone knowing she’s living there?”
“Because they’re going to wonder why I won’t let her go to a hotel. They’re going to wonder why she can’t go out to get her own food. They’ll either think we’re holding her prisoner or that we’re not willing to shell out for accommodations.”
“But we are keeping her prisoner.”
“I guess, technically, you could say that. But we can’t let other people find that out.”
“Not even my fiancé?”
“Especially not your fiancé.”
“What the fuck, Trey?”
“Brody is like a soldier. He sticks to the rules, and there’s no room for interpretation. You really think he’ll stand for me not killing an exile just so you can have your dream wedding dress?”
Violet slumps in her seat on the other side of the car. “You’re right. Fuck.”
She sulks in silence until we stop at the small neighborhood grocery store near the bridal shop. It’s barely more than a bodega, but it has what we need. I’m not sure what toiletries Heather has brought, so I’ll wait to grab that stuff until I ask her.
I have no idea if she has any allergies or sensitivities, but most wolves don’t. I chance it and grab a few basics she can cook in a microwave.
When I get back to the car, Violet is still sulking in silence. She follows me into the bridal shop, not offering to help me carry the three reusable grocery bags full of stuff I have.
The driver goes off around the corner to park until we’re done. He can’t keep the limo at the curb in front of the shop, and I’m not sure how long we’ll be there.
Inside, I find Heather in the back, sitting at the same table in the workroom where we all met before. When she sees me come in, she barely registers that Violet is behind me. Her breath hitches, and her eyes go wide. Obviously, she wasn’t expecting me.
Violet sits down and starts taking things out of her giant bag. She doesn’t recognize that her designer is frozen in terror.
I walk away to put down the groceries in the break room. Some of this stuff needs to go in the fridge and freezer and it looks like Heather needs a moment to collect herself.
As I stash the frozen dinners and yogurt (I did try to get a few healthier options), I consider comforting her. However, comforting her might give her an excuse to disobey or challenge any orders I give her.
How can I de-escalate this situation and still make sure she does as I ask?
I know that Violet hates this, but she doesn’t have a choice if she wants Heather to make this dream dress for her. I have half a mind to send her home and pretend she was never here.
Then I think about Father and all the things that Violet doesn’t know. Maybe if she has this dress, finding out he can’t walk her down the aisle won’t hit so hard.
That is if he makes it long enough to see her get married. We’ve already agreed to set up a video feed so he can watch without anyone noticing he can’t stand up.
Wolves don’t usually get sick. There are very few things that can bring us down. Aggressive colon cancer is one of them.
It’ll take longer to kill him than if he were human, but in the end, he can’t heal fast enough to keep up with all the new lesions and tumors.
Eventually, he’ll succumb to the disease, and in the meantime, he’s in more pain than anyone should have to endure for a minute, let alone weeks or months.
I suppose I can do something to make this process easier for Heather. We’ll be doing this for the next three months, and I really don’t want the dress designer to end up having a heart attack out of fear.
That would be a far worse way for people—especially her parents—to find out she’s here and that I didn’t kill her upon sight.
Back in the workroom, Violet’s purse seems to have vomited all over the table. She and Heather are prattling away about wedding stuff at 10,000 words a minute, and I have no idea what they’re talking about.
They look like they’re having fun. I can’t believe it. A second ago, Heather looked like she was about to collapse in terror, and now she’s giggling with my sister?
I clear my throat and the giggling stops immediately. Violet twists in her chair and levels that look at me again.
“You just had to come back and ruin all the fun.”
“I didn’t mean to ruin anything. Proceed.”
She shakes her head. “How can Heather have fun when the man who had his claws digging into her carotid artery is looming over her.”
“I see.”
I sit down in a vinyl chair, ready to get this over with once and for all. Apparently, Heather had the same idea. She takes in a long breath and lets it out, then launches into a question that shocks me.
“Are you planning to kill me? Yes or no?”
I stare at her for a moment, surprised at her audacity. Violet bursts out laughing. She stops abruptly as she realizes that Heather and I are staring each other down. She scoots her chair closer to me and puts her hand on my shoulder.
“Trey, tell this woman who is responsible for the way the most important day of my life will go that you’re not planning to kill her.” Her pitch rises to a squeak.
I ball my hands into fists. “Heather,” she doesn’t drop her gaze, “I promise that as long as you stay here in this shop and do not contact anyone, I will not kill you while you’re working on my sister’s dress.”
“That’s the best you can do?” Violet isn’t satisfied.
I turn to her. “Yes, Violet. That’s the best I can do. Take it or leave it, but this is where we’re at.”
Heather chimes in, “I’m okay with that. I just needed to know that I could work on this dress in peace.”
“You can,” I vow.
By this time, Violet has gathered up the mess on the table back into her bag and she storms out of the workroom. I hear the bell clink on the door, noting that she’s left. I stand up and turn to leave, too but Heather’s voice stops me.
“What about my parents? Are you going to tell them that I’m here?”
I freeze. This is something I expected, but I’m not happy that I have to state the obvious.
“No. And you’re not going to tell them either. They are at the top of the list of people you cannot contact under any circumstances.”
“They’d never tell anyone.”
“It doesn’t matter. I’m forbidding it. This is one of those hard rules you have to abide by to stay alive. Are we clear on that?”
She hangs her head. “Yes, we’re clear.”
I turn to leave again but stop at the doorway. My back is still to her.
“They don’t believe you to be dead like everyone else. They never stopped looking for you. They probably never will.”
With that, I continue walking towards the door, but my wolf hearing catches the quiet sobs that come from the workroom and the woman I’ve left behind. I don’t regret telling her.
Maybe, if she survives this, she can find a way to get a message to them before she leaves. At that thought, I’m struck with the surprise that I actually want that for her. Fuck, I’m starting to care. That can’t turn out well.