33. Dane
Chapter 33
Dane
T he Bluetooth picks up, and my Prime’s voice fills my ear. “Morning, son. I’m sorry to interrupt your run, but I saw I missed your call yesterday while I was in court.”
It’s close to five thirty in the morning, which means he’s tucked into his office at home, no doubt reading the news over coffee. It’s a little sad how predictable we are. He knew he could call me because I’ve kept to the same morning workout routine in the off-season since high school.
My side aches and I’m sucking wind, but even after the last week of nonstop busy, I can’t seem to break the habit. It’s possible Nash’s kidding that I have control issues isn’t far off.
“No problem, sir,” I pant, slowing to a stop on the side of the old highway. “I’ve got some news and a favor to ask.”
“Let me guess,” he says in his deep Southern drawl. “Quinn is officially a licensed physical therapist? I’ll ask your papa to send over flowers.” The admiration and fondness in his voice make me smile.
“That was an easy guess but tell Papa I already got flowers so send wine. He loves a robust red.”
Quinn is driven and smart as hell. The fact that he was going to pass was never in question.
My father gives a grunt of approval. “Will do. It was a given, but congratulations are in order anyway.” The sound of shuffling comes over the line, his old chair creaking in the background. “What favor can I help you with?”
“Actually, there’s more news.” I pace on the side of the road. “Our pack has found a beta. She’s scent-matched to all three of us,” I say, hearing the excitement in my voice but not having the power to contain it.
Rosie has been with us since Sunday night, and this woman has kept me on my toes the entire time. I don’t know why the hell I like it so much that she doesn’t give in to me easily. Something about her riles up my alpha instincts, and I find myself constantly battling for control. It’s messing with my head.
Between the hospital, repairs at Rosie’s grandmother’s house, and all the stuff regarding the move, not to mention getting prepped to take over coaching, I’m feeling my age. By the time we all make it back to the house at night, all we do is blink our way through dinner and collapse in a heap. Sadly, there has been no repeat of that first night when I saw her come for us, but at least she lets us in her bed.
I know this is the storm before we settle and all you do in the storm is push through, but gods, am I ready for the part after.
My father’s voice cuts into my unchecked obsession with Rosie. “This is a big news week for your pack! Congratulations, son,” he says, his voice warm. My father is strict but loves his family fiercely.
“It is, sir. That’s also the favor. I need you to look into something for me.” I walk toward home as I fill him in on the last few days, telling him about Rosie, her grandmother’s accident, and her extended family’s threats to sue for control of the estate.
The whole situation makes me uneasy. I knew Marigold casually at school, though I outgrew that crowd a long time ago. After what she did back then, I knew she was an awful person, but hearing that she’s still harassing Rosie makes all my protective instincts rise to the surface.
My father listens without interrupting. When I’m finished, he’s still silent.
“Sir?”
“I’m here. Rosie is that same girl from the mess with Nash in high school, correct?” my father asks, his tone darkening.
Nash and my father have a complicated relationship. The night we were at the hospital for Rosie, I told my father that Nash was my packmate. I’d spent years with Nash on the field, but that night, my alpha instincts were riding me hard, telling me not to leave him. My father wasn’t exactly thrilled with my declaration. Years later, it’s a love-hate thing full of mutual respect, but it works.
“That’s her.”
“Well damn. In retrospect, that explains some things—” My father cuts himself off with a sigh.
No kidding . The desire to Monday-morning quarterback our past with Rosie has been pestering me for almost a week.
“I’ll do my best to fix this for her. You have my word.” My father’s voice turns to the steely one he uses in the courtroom. “See what paperwork she has. I’ll send you an email with the details I’ll need. I want it Monday. Let’s get ahead of it.”
“Will do, sir.” I smile.
This situation has triggered his injustice meter, and I have a feeling Rosie’s family won’t be expecting my bulldog of a father. That’s exactly why I called in the favor. He’ll help me make sure she’s protected.
He changes directions, heading toward our usual conversation ground. “You join the coaching staff Monday. Are you prepared with everything going on? This Spring Fling game will be your chance to show everyone you came home to win titles here too.”
“Yes, sir.” I turn off the old highway and jog toward our neighborhood. There isn’t really another answer he’s looking for, and I spend the rest of my cooldown nodding as he talks football.
“I’m home,” I interrupt, looking between our new house and the old Victorian next door, still surprised by the odds.
“All right.” I think he’s going to hang up, but he adds, “Make sure to invite that new mate of yours to the party next weekend. I want to welcome the whole pack back to town.”
“Yeah, about that,” I hedge. “I don’t know if a football party is Rosie’s thing. Maybe we can plan a smaller dinner? You guys can see the house when we finally get it set up.”
“Let’s plan for both. I’ll have Papa set it up with Quinn.” The line goes dead before I can argue.
I brace my hands on my hips, cursing under my breath. The first time I ask Rosie on a real date, it isn’t gonna be to my dad’s welcome home party, no matter what he thinks. She and I haven’t found our footing yet, and I don’t imagine I’ll get very far in ensuring that we can find a middle ground with football.
The irony that she doesn’t want anything to do with that part of my life isn’t lost on me.