Chapter 9
Chapter
Nine
WINTER
This feels oddly normal. I’m curled up in a chair at the island, clean and dressed in a pair of leggings and a tank top while eating a piece of toast. I think this is the most clothing I’ve worn since my aunt kicked us out of her house.
She’s my mother’s sister, and was disappointed Mom married Bell’s dad.
A part of me wonders if selling us to Madam Clara was Aunt Matilda’s last ‘fuck you’ to my mother. It’s really too bad I can’t slap the taste out of her mouth and ask her.
A hand covers mine, forcing my mind back to the table. Taking a vicious bite of my toast, I chew it as I glance at Cassidy. There’s a small wrinkle between her eyes, something I’m sure I or Bell put there.
Detoxing off the drugs we were given was hell. I never want to do that again, or to have my stepbrother think I’m that alpha cow. Madam Clara is truly evil, and I am reminded of that every time I run my fingers over my backside.
“Are you thinking sad or murderous thoughts, Winter?” Cassidy asks. “Your scent keeps changing.”
“You can tell based on that?” I ask.
“Even I can tell,” Shiloh murmurs. “It gets spicy when you’re mad and bittersweet when you’re sad. All I can think about is rum and cotton candy now.”
Flushing, I shrug as I drop my toast on the plate. I’m hungry but also want to be careful of what I eat because I don’t want to upset my stomach. It’s like when you have an awful stomach flu as a kid and you’re feeling out what’s a safe food and what isn’t.
It feels wasteful since there’s all this food in front of me, and I make a face at it.
“I know,” Bellamy says. “It’s hard to trust it. Not because of who made it, but because it’s been so long since we’ve eaten real food.”
“I really want to make a kill list,” Shiloh grumbles. “Will you be murderous with me, Winter?”
Hearing my name makes me gaze at him. He’s gorgeous, with dirty blonde hair and blue eyes that are now narrowed at me as he hovers over his laptop. It’s clear he’s having a hard time sitting still, because he’s standing at the island as he works and eats.
In a way, Shiloh reminds me of a model, all shameless grace and beauty with his hard edges.
Can men be considered beautiful?
“What about me?” Bellamy pouts, and my lips twitch. This is very unlike him.
Is Shiloh trying to make Bell jealous? He’s doing a really good job if he is.
“You may not remember, but you already said you’d help,” Cassidy says. “Our goal is to make Savannah a safe place to live for you both.”
“Alone?” I ask, feeling panicked all of a sudden.
“You’ll be lucky if one of us isn’t following you into the bathroom,” Abbott chuckles under his breath. His hair is wet, and he’s wearing workout clothes.
Did he go upstairs to shower with Cassidy? They both came back down together, and she seemed more relaxed than earlier. Being roofied couldn’t have been fun.
That shit has nasty side effects. I still don’t remember a lot of the time in The Hug Project. I slipped from moment to moment, but I do remember the private rooms. A shudder rolls down my spine at the memory, and I wish there had been drugs administered for that.
“Are you admitting that you’re awful at personal space?” I rasp, my voice cracking as the lighter thoughts in my mind are chased away by the ugliness.
“Terrible,” Abbott says, taking a bite of his pancake. It’s three in the afternoon, yet we’re eating breakfast.
It feels hedonistic to ignore the rules of meals. My aunt hated having meals outside of its “proper” times, and told my mom that she was spoiling me often.
It didn’t feel like being spoiled though, it felt more like love. God, do I miss her.
“Good to know,” Bellamy says, his pinky linking with mine. The simple gesture helps push away the building headache and sadness threatening.
His touch always helps, and it’s why we fought so hard to stay together. Perhaps it backfired a few times, but it’s worth it to come out of this with his pinky wrapped around mine.
“Did you two grow up together?” Ansel asks curiously.
The question doesn’t feel like an invasion. There are so many other truths they could ask for. We need to start somewhere with our scent matches, right?
After the last week of detox where they took care of us, it feels like we need to at least try. If Bell and I need to run later, we will.
I can feel his agreement through the bond, and I take a deep breath to respond to Ansel’s question.
“We only met a year and a half ago,” I admit. “Our parents…”
“They met when they were grocery shopping,” Bellamy says sadly. We both miss them so much. It’s not fucking fair.
“People can go their entire lives and not meet their scent matches,” I add. “My mom was forty-five when she met Alan, my stepfather.”
“My dad was forty-eight,” Bellamy breathes. “They were both omegas, who had decided to make their lives with other packs.”
“If they were omegas…” Ansel looks confused, and I smile slightly.
“They were soul bonded,” I whisper. It’s even less common than scent matches, but it’s what Bellamy and I also are. The connection sometimes needs time to kindle, yet that’s not how it was for our parents or us.
“Wow,” Cassidy murmurs. “That’s a special bond. How did the packs take it?”
“Not well,” I wince. “I was sixteen and with my mom when she walked past my stepdad. Alan had this kind aura around him. Everyone smiled as he walked past, and they lit up when they saw him. It’s no wonder my mom stopped dead in her tracks and turned to watch him.”
“I wasn’t there, but Dad had a haunted look in his eyes he when came home that day,” Bellamy remembers, his face strained with the memory.
We didn’t have enough time to mourn them before we were sold, so the grief is still very raw.
“He told my pack what happened, and they threw us out. He joined the pack after he’d had me.
I was about a year old at the time. Dad had a failed relationship with a beta, and she didn’t want me.
That never bothered me, because my dad was amazing.
The pack was childless, but had always wanted children,” he adds.
“I don’t know why you’d invest so much time in loving someone, just to toss them out. ”
“You don’t,” Ansel growls. “Soul bonds are special. Your parents didn’t have a choice in being drawn to each other on a random Tuesday because they went to the same grocery store.”
“It was a Friday,” I murmur. “She was in a rush and rarely went to that store. Mom used to say people were stuck-up there.”
“I remember the neighborhood,” Bell grumbles. “They were. Dad had money, but Helen, my stepmother, was the beneficiary. Her beneficiary was her sister, which was a mess.”
“My aunt is a bitch,” I sigh, shaking my head as I take a sip of water. “My mom had a big fight with her pack, but my father actually is someone within the pack. He called my mother a whore, and said he didn’t believe I was actually his. All of it was very messy.”
“I’m sorry,” Ansel offers. “Some people shouldn’t be responsible for others.”
“Hmm,” I say. “I consider Alan more of a father than my own. I don’t understand why, but there was always this odd feeling I had.
I spent a lot of time at school and at extracurriculars growing up in an effort to avoid my mom’s pack once I turned ten.
I was happy for her, regardless of everything that happened. ”
“Dad owned the house his previous pack was living in, so he sold it out from under them and bought something for just the four of us. No one is as petty as an omega scorned,” Bell says smugly.
It’s as if now that we’ve started, we have word vomit. We can’t stop the words, and a tear slides down my cheek. Talking about our parents hurts. Bellamy and my family became one and the same. Mom put Aunt Matilda in her will, just in case. She never wanted us to be separated.
Unfortunately, that seriously backfired.
“Bell and I are soul bonded,” I say suddenly, biting my lip.
“I had a feeling,” Abbott reassures me. “I’m glad you’ve had each other through all of this.”
Bell’s pinky tightens around mine before releasing me to pick up my fork and hands it to me.
“Try another bite,” he suggests. “Just one to see how the food sits.”
Nodding, I take the fork while he takes over.
“When I met Winter, her eyes widened and she burst into tears. Her hand went to her head, and all I knew is I had to go to her. Our parents had no idea what was going on, but I knew something was wrong. I wrapped my arms around her, making sure to touch as much of her skin as possible. Her eyes closed in relief, and she told me later it was a stabbing pain in her eye. Like a migraine but worse. When her eyes opened, one was white and the other blue. They stayed that way.”
Finishing two more bites of food, I decide I’m done. My stomach has shrunk due to not eating normally.
“Our parents were shocked, but chose to take it as a sign that we were meant to be a family,” I say. “They got married right away in a small ceremony and it was perfect. We were so happy until the accident.”
“What happened?” Cassidy asks.
“It’s…confusing,” I admit.
“The police officer told her aunt that they were hit by an oncoming driver going in the wrong direction,” Bellamy says. “The SUV flipped on the road over the median and was hit by a truck. Both our parents died in the wreck. They went out on a date, while we hung out at home. Sometimes…”
“No,” I whisper. “It wouldn’t have been better if we’d been with them.”
“I agree,” Ansel growls, making me blink as I glance at him.
“Death isn’t the answer,” Abbott agrees, but his eyes are on Cassidy instead of us.
I have a feeling I’m missing something really important.
“I’m sorry for your loss,” Cassidy says instead, ignoring Abbott. “Your parents sound as if they adored you. It’s just…a feeling I get when you talk about them. Beyond the sadness, there are really happy memories.”
“You’re right,” I say, forcing myself to take a breath as the tears flow faster.