Chapter 49
TESSA.
OVER A MONTH LATER…
My birthday was only a few days away. The third one I’d spend without my parents and brothers and everyone else I’d once loved.
I couldn’t even remember the day I’d turned nineteen.
Had that been the day I’d stumbled into the offices of Johnas, Bridgers, and Burr?
So desperate, so alone. I’d left with five hundred dollars and a never-ending supply of hopelessness.
No, that was the day after my birthday. The day after I’d walked out of my family home for the last time, with no idea how to function.
The Fortune Pack ended that day for me. It wasn’t the day the plane crashed and I got the life-shifting, terrible news. It was the day that the last connection I had to them failed me. The Oblivion Haze Pack was my today, my tomorrow, my everything.
The guys had peppered me with questions, trying to suss out what I wanted to do for the milestone twenty-first. I’d disappointed them saying I wanted to stay home, keep it low key.
They really wanted to make it a big celebration.
I was just content not to spend it in endless deliberation like I had the last two birthdays—my mind going over what I should have, could have, would have done if I’d only known my family’s tragic fate.
Lounging on the sectional, an old western playing on the television, I pet Josie absentmindedly.
She’d grown a little chubby over the last month, and I was seriously debating getting her a kitty treadmill.
Heaven knows she wouldn’t allow me to curb her diet.
She was nonstop spoiled by Tray, who seemed to come home every other day with some new delicacy for her feline pleasure.
He was still doing the college thing, though he whined about it often.
I could tell he loved it deep down though.
He was smart. The entire package. Handsome enough to model.
Talented enough to be famous. Intelligent enough that he couldn’t understand why other people thought differential equations were challenging.
“I love this movie,” Mac’s steady voice called my attention as he strode into the room from the kitchen wearing a vintage, ruffle-edge apron.
He placed a serving tray overflowing with pinwheel sandwiches down on the coffee table.
He kept offering me different food, worried because I wasn’t eating much lately.
I just couldn’t stomach much, especially so close to my birthday.
Mac didn’t outwardly make a big deal of it; he didn’t push me to eat.
He just appeared with appetizing provisions at different intervals, leaving them in my sight lines and hoping to pique my interest.
“Those look good,” I offered, not wanting to take his effort for granted.
“I believe you’d enjoy the cream cheese, turkey, and cranberry preserve ones,” he spoke matter-of-factly, still shying away from outright telling me to eat.
“It does sound good.” I changed the subject. “The framer did a beautiful job on the news article.”
After the concert at The Vault, pictures of our pack had appeared in several local and national papers. The guys had told me to pick out my favorite of the photos and they’d taken it to be custom mounted in a sleek, obsidian frame.
“It did come out well,” he agreed, though I could tell by his tone he was more than a little disappointed I hadn’t snagged one of the sandwiches.
The mansion’s phone rang, which it rarely did. Though once some weirdo had called looking for Tray. Todd… something or other. Mac and I exchanged a curious look, but before he could get up to answer it, the front door opened, and we heard someone pad to the foyer table.
“Tray Rivers speaking.”
I smiled at the sound of my playful Alpha’s voice.
“Um… yeah. She lives here. What’s this about?”
I sat up a little straighter. Someone had called looking for a ‘she’?
After a millisecond, I settled back against the cushion.
Catalina. They were probably looking for Cat.
Duh. I felt a little stupid. Everyone I knew and cared about that was left on the planet, was here in the mansion.
Dixon was hitting a second work out, something about his quads looking flaccid.
I don’t know what he said actually; he started getting technical per usual and my brain drifted into la-la land.
Ryder was downstairs, determined to get the lyrics of a new song right.
Catalina was on her sixth date with the mystery man we’d not met yet.
We did know his name now though. She’d winked at me last Saturday and said Hank was the kind of man a woman could spend her menopausal golden years with—super, duper hot. With a capital H.
We heard the distinct, sharp clink of the receiver being placed back into its cradle. Not long after, Tray came into view, hopping down into the living room rather than descending the stairs.
“Who was on the phone?” Mac beat me to the question.
“Well,” Tray was doing his bouncing thing, manic energy flaring. “I don’t know how to say this, Tessa.” He paused, screwing up his face as his brain searched for the right wording.
“Don’t know how to say what?” Dixon’s voice preceded his arrival. He held an empty water jug in one hand, and a half-eaten protein bar in the other.
“I think Ryder should be here too,” Tray said, “Let me holler at him.”
Ten minutes later, I was still rooted to the same spot on the couch.
Josie had left, waltzing her way into the kitchen where she now had an automatic feeder and bubbling water fountain.
Dixon and Mac sat on my right, Ryder on my left.
I held a half-eaten pinwheel sandwich. Mac had finally insisted I put something on my empty stomach.
“Okay, Tray. We’re all here. What the hell’s going on?” Dixon sounded a little annoyed.
“So, we just got this call.” My youthful, vibrant mate started pacing, talking with his hands.
“Yes, we know,” Mac spoke firmly, trying to keep Tray from launching into one of his tedious, overly long stories full of needless twists and turns. “Who called, Tray? And for whom did they call?”
Tray opened his mouth again, but Dixon held up a hand. “Go against every instinct in your body and give us the abridged version, dude.”
“A law firm in Seattle wants to come here and meet with Tessa,” Tray blurted out, eyes bulging like it took impossible effort to concentrate his news.
My jaw dropped. The call had been for me, not Catalina. Then my heart skipped a beat.
“What was the name of the law firm?” I could barely ask the question, my throat felt swollen, my lungs breathed sluggishly, depriving me of air.
“Um,” he cocked his head, trying to remember, “See, I knew this. If you guys would have just let me tell the whole story my way, I’d remember.
” He frowned, still thinking. Finally, his face brightened.
“Johnas, Bridgers, and…” he started humming, singing under his breath, “76…mmm, mmm, city. Pardon me. Mmmm, mmm. Aaron.” He stopped muttering the song and shouted the last. “Burr, sir!”
“Johnas, Bridgers, and Burr,” I repeated in a daze.
“You know that law firm?” Ryder wrapped an arm around me. In fact, they all moved closer, sensing the shift in my scent as my emotions began to whip into a frenzy.
“Yes.” I took a steadying breath, “Yes, I know them.”
After Mac brewed me a cup of chamomile tea and Dixon got the big, velvety blanket from the pack suite, wrapping it around my trembling body, I told them about the last time I saw Mister Johnas.
They already knew what happened to my family’s estate; that news was all over media.
We all assumed he was the driving force behind keeping my face out of the news.
Was that the way he’d chosen to protect me?
To hide me away, to push me into obscurity?
All he’d done was kept me alone and vulnerable.
“Do you want us to call them back for you, Tessa?” Mac was kneeling in front of me, his gaze probing.
All I could do was nod.
“And you want to meet with them? If you don’t, we’ll handle it.” This from Mac too.
I nodded but knew that could be construed either way. “Meet with them,” I whispered, so they’d all know for sure.
Three days later I found myself sitting at our dining table across from Mister Johnas.
He seemed to have aged a decade over the last two years.
His hair was stark white now; craggy lines cut through his face and the color of his eyes had faded so much.
He’d wanted to speak to me privately first, but my Alphas wanted in the kitchen within earshot.
I could smell them; they were on edge and in protection mode.
“You look so well, Tessa. That makes me happier than you know.” He meant what he said, his voice a mixture of guilt and happiness. In front of him was a thick folder, sleek and black, stamped in gold.
“You should have seen me a few months ago,” I joked halfheartedly. “I was living in a box.” I probably didn’t need to add that last bit; I’d done so out of spite, so he couldn’t ignore the fact that he’d turned me away with a pittance and a prayer.
“I’m so sorry, Tessa. I have no excuse for offering you so little help. I owed your parents, your pack, more.” He didn’t look away from me. He faced his wrongdoing with courage.
I relented, seeing his grief. “Your hands were tied, Mister Johnas. I understand.”
“I tried my best to protect you. I didn’t want the vultures finding you, demanding interviews, and taking their pound of flesh.
The rest of the firm thought that was a mistake.
” He sighed, swiping a hand down his face.
“Maybe it was a mistake. When I finally had good news, even I couldn’t find you.
One picture in a paper, and you existed again. ”
“It’s fine, Mister Johnas. I’m fine now.” My words felt hollow. Why was I comforting him? He seemed so sad though…
“No, there’s no excuse. There isn’t,” he insisted, “I should have brought you home. I should have kept you safe.” He swiped a tear away angrily, as if he didn’t deserve to cry.
I bit my lip, part of me wanting to comfort the old man again, the other part of me thinking he should feel badly.
He should spend the rest of his life feeling terrible that he’d not done more.
I gave myself a little shake. Hearing a soft meow, I glanced down and found Josie curling her body around the leg of my chair.
She was freshly brushed, wearing the collar I’d painfully earned.
I leaned over, picking her up and bringing her into my lap for comfort.
She wriggled at first, not wanting to be confined, but then she must have sensed how tense I was, because she decided to settle against my legs and purr.
Silence was falling. I didn’t want that. I wanted this over with as quickly as possible.
“Why are you here, Mister Johnas?” I wanted him to get to the point, and then I wanted him to leave. He was a part of my dead life. An awful reminder, when I was already drowning in sorrow as my birthday approached.
“I’m here, because everything is yours, Tessa.” His face suddenly brightened. He said it almost triumphantly, flipping the folder open. He said it like I should understand what he meant.
“Everything is mine? I don’t understand.” I stroked my hand over Josie’s back, grounding myself through the feel of her. The only thing that was truly mine now was my pack. This home. This life. This safety that I’d never let life steal away from me.
“Over the past year, I began reaching out to my contacts in the IRS and the marshals.” Mister Johnas shifted pages, beginning to set them out in a row in front of him.
He kept them as uniform as possible, half an inch between each crisp pale page.
“The government has a nasty habit of either never finishing a tax investigation or never communicating the result.”
“Okay…” I drew out the word, eyebrow arching. Maybe I was being obtuse, but I just wasn’t getting why he’d seen fit to come down from Seattle.
“The Fortune Pack was cleared of all charges six months ago, Tessa,” he spoke slowly, giving me time to comprehend. “It’s all yours again, darling girl. Every square foot of property. Every car. Every chair. Every plate. Every fork. Yours.”
My brain swirled. Chairs… plates… forks.
Property.
The Fortune Pack mansion.
My Omega response must have set my guys’ Alpha instincts into hyperdrive, because they exploded into the dining room, nearly breaking down the door in the process. They tumbled over one another, trying to get to me.
“It’s okay,” I blurted, “I’m fine. I’m…” I grinned, face splitting and heart thumping erratically. “I’m more than fine.”
Four sets of hands touched me, steadying my nerves as much as their own. They blinked over at Mister Johnas, dozens of questions spilling from their mouths all at once. I laughed at the chaos of it.
I didn’t know what we’d do with all the assets suddenly returned to me, but it was the best birthday present I could have asked for.
I was going to walk into the home I thought I’d never see again.
I was going to walk into my old bedroom and see those stupid Oblivion Haze posters on the wall.
I was going to open the giant fridge where my father used to hide leftovers and irritate my mother.
Maybe I’d pack up all the board games I’d once loved playing with my brothers and bring them here to Los Angeles.
Material things from my old life couldn’t bring my family back, but in a tiny, wonderful way I could feel their presence inside me.
As if they’d never left me in the first place.