Chapter 27
Clarke's phone lights up again, rattling across the coffee table. I can feel my nostrils flaring at the sound. I can't fucking believe he still hasn't put the damn thing on silent.
Part of me wants to take the fucking thing and smash it against a wall.
But Clarke—fuck. I'm angry at him, so fucking angry, but he's being harder on himself than even I want him to be.
Our bond's been locked down since yesterday morning, but I force it further away.
Him feeling my anger sure as shit won't help anything.
He's barely slept. I don't think he's eaten. He's sitting on the sofa between James and Allen, staring at nothing.
Fuck.
I stalk into the kitchen and grab a bottle of Powerade, a pack of peanuts, and a bag of jerky, and drop them in front of him.
"Eat." My voice is growlier than I mean it to be. James catches my eye, a half-smile flitting across his lips.
At least he has a few sips when James opens the bottle for him.
Allen reaches over and picks up Clarke's phone. He glances at the alert. "It's your mom, love. She's messaged."
Clarke blinks a few times. "Oh. Okay." His eyes seem slightly unfocused. He doesn't reach for his phone. Allen reluctantly puts it back down on the table.
James frowns slightly. "Clarke?" He doesn't respond. "Ralph?"
"Hmmm?" Clarke's head swings towards James. "Yeah?"
"Hey, Seb?" James calls, his eyes not leaving Clarke's face, "can you come here for a minute?"
Seb stumbles into the living room, clutching something small in his hand. He has massive dark circles under his eyes. He wipes the sleep from his face. "Yeah?"
He stops when he sees James' expression. He strides over to Clarke, slams whatever he was holding on the coffee table, and crouches in front of him, studying his face.
I pick up what Seb put down. It's his Phero-block bottle. He's circled something on the warning label.
Clinically proven protection against incompatible pheromones. FOR INFORMATION: Full effectiveness against scent-matched pheromones has not been demonstrated in a laboratory environment. See our website for more information.
I look away, my nostrils flaring, my mind roiling.
Clarke's phone buzzes again, breaking my train of thought. And then buzzes again.
My jaw twitches.
That fucking phone. If nobody else is going to put that fucking thing on silent, I will.
I pick it up to unlock it with his passcode—and freeze. The messages from his mom scroll across the top of the alerts.
Mom
I just had coffee with that lovely young lady I met the other morning. I like her.
11.47am
Mom
Hope you don't mind - I gave her your number.
11.48am
Mom
Oh - just FYI, the poor thing was **very** worried about something. Be gentle with her.
11.49am
I look up. My heart is racing. I realize my jaw is hanging loose. "Ralph?" My voice is oddly high.
"Huh?"
"You're going to want to read these messages. And, uh, I think we might owe your Mom big time."
She'll call soon. She will. She will. She will.
I've been repeating it in my head like a mantra for the last ten minutes. After Clarke or Ralph or whatever he wants to go by now damn near knocked me over to grab his phone, Seb managed to bundle him off into the shower.
They're arguing in the bathroom. I can't hear exactly what they are saying. James is scrambling, searching for clean pants. Allen is pacing.
"Everyone's phone working? Batteries charged? Ringers switched on?" It's not quite a bark, but it's closer to one than I meant it to be.
James scoffs. "If it's changed in the three minutes since you checked them all…"
My mouth puckers.
Allen's frown is deepening as he walks back and forth, tapping his phone against his leg. I stride over to him, and spin him towards me. I glare at him. He looks away.
"Do you honestly think she would have voluntarily not only spoken to Ralph's mom, but actually spent time in the same room as her, if she didn't want to talk to us?"
Ralph's faint, incensed cry of "I heard that," is barely audible from the shower. Seb's snort of amusement is much louder.
Allen's mouth twitches. "No. No, it's not that. I just haven't managed to get in touch with Lauren or her assistant, and we still haven't had acknowledgement of the cancellation. It's just… wrong to leave her in the lurch like that."
"All the other heat support bookings are cancelled now, right?"
His thumb is rubbing over his eyebrow like he has a headache. "All the other heat support ones, yeah."
An involuntary sigh of relief escapes out of my mouth.
He sighs, and runs his hands through his hair. "I guess I can take a taxi to her place and talk in person? But…"
Ah.
"But if she calls, and you're not there…"
He ruffles his fingers against his hair. "This is fucking ridiculous. Absolutely ridiculous. I'm a fucking adult and I'm acting like…"
His breath shoots sharply through his nose as he shakes his head, his eyes closed.
"I don't know. You seem to be acting like an alpha whose scent match ran from him and might be about to make contact again?"
His lips twitch. I wrap an arm around his shoulder. "C'mon, oh moral compass. We can all go. Face the music as a pack. That way, we can at least meet Lauren Treloar, even if we never get to tell anyone."