Chapter 27 Jo
twenty-seven
Jo
I’m about to meet my beta’s parents for the first time, and they won’t even know he belongs to me. As I sit in the front seat of the car, the memory of his tongue sweeping across my aching clit fresh in my mind, I’m suddenly not sure it’s such a bad thing.
Nothing like meeting your in-laws after a fresh fucking.
West smirks at me from the back seat as if he can tell just by looking at me what has been playing on repeat in my mind the entire drive over.
“What are you thinking about, Trouble?” Sam murmurs, glancing at me from the driver’s seat. “You smell like the world’s best apple pie.” He pauses, his head tilting slightly. “An apple pie that’s been shot and left in the rain.”
A snort leaves me at the creative interpretation of mine and Kole’s scents mixed together. “Kole had a, uh…a hard time thinkin’ about the fact that West’s parents would think that I’m only your omega.”
The alpha chuckles. “Of course he did. Did he mark you up real good?”
His words send heat licking up my spine.
“I helped,” West grins, leaning forward. “She bent over the bed while—”
“Okay!” I laugh, resisting the urge to fan myself like a debutante being flirted with for the first time. “Let’s not relive it quite yet, okay? I don’t need to meet your parents all hot and bothered. They don’t need physical proof that omegas are needy messes on a good day.”
West frowns. “Jo…”
“It’s fine,” my voice comes out a squeak, “it’s just, at the very least, even if they don’t directly work for Xavier, they must share his views to some degree, right?”
He sighs. “Honestly, Siren, I’m not sure.
I wasn’t taught anything crazy about the designations growing up, but Aidan says the BLU has only been active for the last five years or so.
It’s entirely possible they’ve gone under a complete change in their beliefs.
We aren’t especially close, so I don’t know if I would have even noticed. ”
“So there’s a chance they won’t be disgusted by me?” I’m not entirely sure why I care, considering they won’t be meeting me as the center of their son’s pack, but Sam’s omega, but I do.
A whole damn lot.
“Oh, Siren,” his voice is soft, “they could never be disgusted by you. I know it’s hard to believe, but…I really don’t think my parents are in on any of this.”
“I hope you’re right,” Sam mutters, pulling into the parking lot of the address West’s parents sent over. I frown, looking around the area. It’s a Park & Ride lot, full of empty cars.
Why would they have us come here?
“Are you sure you put in the right address?” West leans forward, looking at the GPS in the dashboard.
“Yes, I’m sure,” Sam rolls his eyes, “4384 West Hawthorne Road.”
Movement out of the corner of my eye has my head whipping around, and my gaze lands on a pair of betas making their way towards us.
Christopher and Whitney Monroe.
It’s like they split their DNA down the middle and gave exactly one half of their features to West. While my beta got his father’s nose and mouth, he got his mother’s eyes and chin.
The boxbraids West had mentioned before are pulled into a topknot, and I wish I could look half as elegant as she does.
West is getting out of the car in an instant, and I hear a proper voice call out, “Weston!”
Sam and I exit the car, exchanging a quick glance over the hood. “Mom. Dad.” West smiles, coming over to stand next to me. “It’s so good to see you.”
“Weston?” Her lips tighten into a polite smile as she looks pointedly at Sam and me. “You didn’t mention you’d be bringing…company.”
“Especially for this little work-related excursion.” His dad arches a brow, putting his hands in his suit pockets.
West gives a sheepish smile. “Right. Sorry, guys. You remember Sam though, right?”
Both their eyes widen in recognition when they land on my alpha.
“It’s a pleasure to see you again, Mr. and Mrs. Monroe.” Sam gives a charming smile as he reaches his hand out to Christopher.
“You as well,” his smile almost seems genuine, “how’s your dad doing? I heard he retired.”
Sam chuckles, shaking his head. “You know him. He may say he’s retired, but he still keeps himself busier than he did when he worked full time.”
Christopher shakes his head. “That sounds just like Sam. Not that we aren’t happy to see you, but…what are you doing here?”
“Well, this is Jo, my omega,” Sam wraps an arm around my shoulders and pulls me close, “we were just coming up to surprise West for a visit, but since he already had this planned, he invited us to come along.”
“It’s a pleasure to meet you,” I give my most charming grin, reaching a hand out to his mom.
She takes it with a polite smile. “What an endearing accent. Where are you from, dear?”
“Georgia,” I run my hand nervously down my skirt, “a small little town about an hour from the Alabama border.”
“How charming.” She glances at Sam. “Now, I must know, how did the two of you—”
“Mom?” West jumps in, saving us from answering how we met when neither of us nailed down that part of our story yet. “I don’t want to be rude, but we have dinner reservations at six, and I really need to speak to Roland Olivier.”
“Dinner?” Christopher’s brows shoot up. “The three of you? That seems…intimate.”
I let out a little laugh. “We have some news we want to share.” I look up at Sam with lovey-dovey eyes. “West has been nothin’ but welcomin’ to me since Sammy and I found each other, and he holds a special place as my mate’s best friend.”
The words burn coming out, but his parents seem satisfied with that answer, because their demeanor warms considerably, and his mom gives me a genuine smile. “Well, maybe you could use that Southern charm to find a girlfriend for Weston.”
I push down the growl that rumbles in my chest, as West lets his head fall back on a groan. “Mom…not this again.”
“What?” She raises her hands defensively. “I just would like some grandkids before I’m too old to enjoy them.”
Something like pain and indignation rings through our bond, and I can feel the same indignation running through Sam.
Right.
It’s not like his mom and dad exactly qualify for parents of the year. Sure, they weren’t like the man I called Daddy, but according to West, they were always too busy to pay any real attention to him. It’s why he was with Sam and his dad so much growing up.
So, I cut in before West says something that gives us away.
“I’ve been tryin’, but he’s not a fan of any of the betas I’ve introduced him to.”
“Unreasonably picky.” Christopher huffs, shaking his head. “He’s never even introduced us to anyone he’s dated—”
“Okay,” West cuts in, his jaw tense. “Let’s just go see Roland, alright?"
His dad is the one to put his hands up this time. “Sure, sure. Should we take our car or yours?”
“My car,” Sam says quickly, taking a step forward. “I’ve, uh…developed some control issues since leaving the military.”
Well, at least one part of our story is true.
There must be some way that Sam senses my train of thought through the bond, because then he’s giving my ass a swat. I yelp, drawing looks from all three members of the Monroe family.
“Sorry,” I give a sheepish smile, “there was a…bee.”
“I saw it,” Sam nods seriously, “believe me, it was huge.”
“Oh,” Christopher and Whitney suddenly look very concerned, glancing around the parking lot. “Let’s not wait for it to return. Come on, West, we’ll sit in the back with you.”
Twenty minutes later, we’re on a dirt road in the middle of some small forest that I had no idea existed.
“So…how long have you been friends with this…Mr. Olivier?” I try to sound as clueless as possible. “It seems odd that he would disappear off the map, but you would know where he is.”
“He started coming around when I was…ten or so.” West’s brows furrow. “But he stopped a few years later. I didn’t realize you were still so close.”
“Turn left up here,” Christopher calls out from his seat in the back.
Whitney is wedged between her husband and son, looking at me as she thinks over her answer. “Well, Christopher and Isaac Thornfield met in college, and they worked at a firm together before Isaac took over his father’s business.”
Christopher nods. “Roland came on as an intern shortly after he started college. Despite our age difference, we really grew close—like we were his older brothers. It was as if we had known each other our whole lives.”
Whitney gives a sad smile. “For about three years, they were inseparable. Boys’ trips to the cabin by the lake, poker nights…
” She trails off wistfully. “The three of them were very good friends until Isaac and Roland had a falling out. We’re not sure exactly what happened, but it was around twenty years ago.
Actually, now that I think of it, everything happened right around the time he started seeing Naomi. ”
We continue along the dirt road, passing trees and overgrown paths.
“How come West didn’t know his daughter growing up then?” I might be asking too many questions, but there has to be more to the story than they’re letting on. “Wouldn’t him seein’ her be a…conflict of interest?”
“We…also had a falling out around the same time,” Christopher admits.
“But we reconnected about ten years ago. By that time, Weston was already out of the house, and Roland and Naomi were on the rocks.” Then he swiftly changes the subject.
“How were you seeing Adela? Was it privately?” Christopher frowns, looking at West. “I didn’t think to ask at the time, but I didn’t know you were allowed to see private patients while employed at Thornfield. Were you doing video-calls?”
So they don’t know anything.
West shifts uncomfortably. “You know I can’t tell you that, Dad. Patient confidentiality and all that.”
“I’m just curious,” Christopher harrumphs. “Roland said she went off to college, but he hasn’t visited her once.”
I keep my mouth shut. The need to turn around and tell them why—because Roland Olivier is a no-good asshole who committed his pregnant teenage daughter into an insane asylum to keep her in line—burns in my throat, but if they really know nothing, we need to keep it that way.
I’m just hoping we can keep his parents away from his and West’s conversation enough for us to communicate what we need from him.
“Are you still in contact with Mr. Thornfield?” I ask innocently. Really, I’m pretty proud of myself. You’d have no idea I was a resident at that man’s facility less than a month ago.
“We are still very good friends, yes.” Christopher puffs up his chest. “In fact, we allow him to use our house for his monthly board meetings. You know he’s the grandson of the founder of the Asylum? And all he’s doing to help those poor souls. He really is a great man.”
Shit. They think they’re lending their house out for a board meeting, when in reality they’re hosting a bunch of beta supremacists.
“Are you present for those meetings?” Sam takes the question out of my mouth. If they stay home, I have no idea how they wouldn’t know the true nature of the meetings.
Nobody else catches it, but West holds his breath.
“Oh, no!” Whitney lays a hand over her heart. “Isaac pays for us to go on a date every time so we aren’t bored out of our minds. Like Christopher said, he’s a great man.”
Of course.
As discreetly as possible, I spy West in the rearview mirror. It’s almost like a weight has been lifted off his shoulders, having the confirmation that his parents are unaware of everything going on.
“So what are you doing for your next date?” West’s question seems completely innocent, but I know what he’s doing—trying to find out when the next meeting is.
“We’re going to Chateau Le Blanc,” Whitney says dreamily. “They have the loveliest selection of hors d'?uvres. You know, reservations are so hard to get—I had to make this one three weeks ago! Just for next Thursday evening—”
The day after our deadline from Xavier. That could work.
“Another left up here, Sam,” Christopher cuts in, “and then down a little ways, it’s on your left.”
“How often do you come up here?” West frowns.
“Around once a week or so, but usually we bring him groceries.”
“And you have no idea why he came out here?”
“It’s not our place to judge how a man deals with his grief,” Christopher nearly snaps.
“His wife left him, and now his daughter doesn’t even call.
Give him some grace.” He pauses as we pull up to an actual log cabin in the middle of the forest, only a beat-up old pickup in front of it.
“There’s actually…one last thing you should know about Roland. ”
Sam’s brow furrows as he parks and turns around. “And what would that be?”
“Roland…he’s been self-medicating since he was a teenager to keep everyone thinking he was a beta, but he’s actually…an omega.”