18. Nineteen #2
As I stood in my kitchen gulping down my third mega glass of water in thirty minutes, I was forced to admit that I was oh-for-two on the alphas told me so scale. An annoying fact that I swore was actually burrowing into my skull and eating away at my brain like a termite.
I was just coming back from popping a few headache pills when a rough knock sounded at my door. Caine stood on the other side when I opened it. Before I could say anything, he dug in the cloth tote bag in his hand and pulled out a black helmet, handing it over wordlessly.
I took it from him, looking from the helmet to Caine’s scowling face and back. “You didn’t put itching powder in it, did you?”
Caine blinked then squinted his eyes together like I’d just asked him…well, like I’d just asked him if he’d put itching powder in a bike helmet. “What? No!”
“Lice colony?”
“If you’re going to skateboard badly, you’re going to do it with safety gear,” he answered as he pulled out a packaged set of knee and elbow pads and wrist guards. “Last thing I need is your alpha slapping me with a lawsuit because of your poor judgment.”
I crossed my arms, the probably-lice-ridden helmet still in hand. “And why couldn’t I sue you?”
Now I even could sue you, if I wanted. It was a bleak silver lining, all things considered.
“Fucking hell—fine, last thing I need is either of you suing me when you crack your head open on our property.”
“Okay.” I looked at the various gifts I held in my hands, then back at him as he dug in the bag again.
He held out a huge water bottle, almost the size of a milk jug.
And it was lavender. Cranky Caine Arceneaux had scanned through a shelf of water bottles and picked it out in a pretty color? For me?
Stuffing everything else under one arm, I grabbed it and did the same look back and forth between my landlord and the bottle in my hand before saying hesitantly, “We… have water bottles?”
Did his scowl just get deeper?
His grip clenched on the handles of his tote. “Then you should probably use them when you’re spending hours in ninety-plus-degree heat,” he said through his teeth.
I squinted at him a little. “Because it’s a legal liability?”
He exhaled heavily through his nostrils, knee jiggling like he was anxious to leave—even though this entire bizarre encounter was of his own making. “Yes.”
I nodded slowly, turning to deposit my armful of surprise gifts onto the kitchen island behind me.
When I turned back out the door, I wished I hadn’t though.
I suddenly had no clue what to do with my hands.
And he was still just standing there, eyebrows pinched and teeth grinding like I was the one hovering over his threshold.
“Here,” he said, reaching for my skateboard which had been standing just outside the door. “Tightened the trucks a bit too,” he said as I took it. “They were loose as shit. Would’ve been like trying to surf on a pool noodle.”
I blinked at him like a stupid owl. Caine Arceneaux, asshole landlord and potential designation bigot…just outfitted my entire stupid skateboarding dream? “Wow. Um. Thanks.”
He didn’t leave.
“Um,” I said, unsure exactly what he was waiting on. Did he expect me to reimburse him for the gear? Fat chance. “Anything else?”
Caine swallowed. “I’m…”
I arched a brow. “You’re…”
“I’m sorry.”
Well, that could encompass a whole myriad of items, now couldn’t it. I stood there, unmoving, silent, waiting for him to continue. He sighed softly through his nose, not meeting my eye. “I’ve behaved poorly since you moved in. Gave you grief you didn’t deserve for my own reasons.”
“What reasons?”
“Bad ones.” He glanced my way, just for a moment, before looking forward again. “I’m…not on alpha supplements. No blockers, no suppressants. Nothing. It makes moving about in the world…difficult. And exhausting.”
My heart clenched, and my fingers did the same around the board I still held in my hands. “That’s why you stay upstairs, doing the landlord stuff for Lin?”
Caine nodded. “It’s been a long time since I’ve been around an omega. Just…” He shook his head. “It’s just riled my alpha a bit.” He finally met my gaze. “I’m working on holding him down. Promise.”
I appreciated that he didn’t promise to be better or not be his grumpy self again; it wouldn’t have been authentic. But a consistent effort…that was a promise he could deliver.
“Can I ask a question?” He didn’t speak, but gave a single small nod as permission. “What’s…that like? Being completely off the supplements?”
He didn’t answer right away, looking down at the ground, heel bouncing slightly with agitation. For the first time, though, it didn’t feel like he was agitated at me. Not outright at least.
“When you’re on the supplements,” he started, voice gruff, “your wolf is like a passenger in the car you’re driving. It can give its opinions, can try to convince you where or how to drive, but ultimately you—the human you—is in control. You get to decide.
“Without the meds, you and your passenger are fighting for who gets the wheel, who gets the gas and brakes. When your wolf reaches over and tries to turn the wheel a direction you don’t wanna go, you have to wrestle it away from them.
Or sometimes they…they’ve cut the brake lines so you can’t slow down.
Sometimes you manage to keep them in line. Sometimes…”
I swallowed, looking down.
“It’s not an excuse,” he continued, voice low. “Just context.”
I nodded. “Thanks.”
He gave a single, terse nod. “Right.”
“Riiight…”
Caine took a step back. “Well.” He cleared his throat, suddenly looking anywhere but at me in the doorway. “If I catch you skating without that gear, you’re signing a fucking waiver.” And with that, he turned and strode for the lobby and the staircase beyond.
Leaving me standing in my open doorway, clutching my skateboard, with a counter full of brand new gear behind me.
One thing was for sure. Absolutely none of us had this on our bingo cards. Guess that made me oh-for-three.