Chapter Nine
I use the rest of our tutoring session to go yell at Mac. He’s already waiting when I blow past his secretary and storm into his office. There’s a half-empty glass of bourbon on his desk, next to the bottle it came from.
“What the fuck, Mac?”
He throws up his hands. “I didn’t know, Lana.”
“Bullshit. You keep close tabs on him. You always have.”
“And he’s gotten better and better at avoiding them.”
“I’m supposed to believe you didn’t know he was coming? Enrolling at my school? ”
“It doesn’t matter if you believe it, baby. It’s happening. But for what it’s worth, I didn’t know.”
“You need to fix this.”
Mac groans and reclines in his wingback leather office chair. “What do you expect me to do? He’s a grown alpha with a mind of his own. You know damn well he’s never listened to me.”
“Craven has me tutoring him! This could blow up our faces.”
Mac smirks. “He came back because there’s unfinished business between you two. Did you think he was going to let you go?”
“He did!”
“He gave you time. And took some of his own for his brain to catch up with his dick. Maybe you should just let this play out. What’s the worst that can happen?”
“Really? You're asking that, when you know firsthand? And what happens when he discovers you helped me hide?”
Mac winces. “He’ll fucking hate me for keeping you from him. But I’ve come to terms with that. I’ve always known he’d figure it out sooner or later, and I’d have to pay the price. Do you think you can go your entire life keeping this secret?
“It’s going well so far.”
“That’s no way to live.”
“It’s my life, Mac. My bond.”
“God, you're just as stubborn as he is. No wonder you’re mated. What do you want me to do?”
I huff. It’s beyond Mac’s power to kick his son out of Crestwood University, but I need an insurance policy. “I need a new prescription—we have to change doctors.”
“Kanata is the best omega specialist on the East Coast.”
“I don’t need the best. I need someone who will write me a script that works.”
Mac sighs and rubs his temples. “We’ve been through this, Lana?—”
“You have connections. Get me some off the black market.”
His eyes flare, and he’s never looked so much like Connor.
“No!” He slaps his desk and stands up. “I’ve let this go on too long already. Enabled you too much.”
I fold my arms across my chest. “I was wondering when you’d finally choose your son over me.”
“Damnit, Lana. Don’t do this. I’ve kept your secret for three years. You’re going to kill yourself if you keep upping your suppressant load. Believe it or not, I care about you beyond your status as my son’s mate. I'm not going to help you hurt yourself.”
It’s too late for that . Without Mac paying for my doctor’s appointments and above-board prescriptions, I’d never be able to afford the black market stuff that’s kept me from having to go through a second heat.
“It’s been three years. When are you going to forgive him?”
I don’t know the answer to that. Never? When he earns it? How am I supposed to forgive him when he doesn’t even know what he did to me?
“He’s happy without me.”
Mac scoffs.
“No, he’s not. He’s just good at faking it. You’re both living half lives. I know he hurt you, but to go through life without your bondmate…I wouldn’t wish it on my worst enemy. Sometimes I wish I’d never helped you hide, but that’s the choice I have to live with.”
My throat constricts. “Are you going to tell him?”
“No, but I’m not going to help you lie to him any more than I already have. This is between you and Connor now.
I go from Mac’s straight to work at the grill.
I’m in the middle of tying on my apron when Francine busts into the kitchen.
“Table two’s yours, Lana.”
“That’s not my table.”
Francine shrugs. “You were specifically requested.”
If it’s Lance, I’m going to kill him. He’ll order a seven dollar plate and sit there for two hours trying to chat.
Amanda, a fellow waitress, busts into the kitchen and fans herself with her order pad. “Lana! Did you see that alpha in the back booth? Spray some Pherofume on me and call me omega.”
I roll my eyes. Has to be Lance. My classmate is attractive in that bottle-blond, aviator Ray Bans, letterman jacket, all-American sort of way.
Not really my thing, but he has a different girl on his arm every time I see him, so clearly he does it for some.
Doesn’t stop him from trying to get into my pants, though.
I think he’s taken my disinterest as a personal challenge.
I exit the kitchen, round the corner to table two, and stop and stare. Connor is in the booth, taking up more space than any one person has a right to.
He has the gall to smile at me.
I march up to him. “Is this a joke? Did you follow me?”
“Bit stalker-ish, no?”
“I’m serious. What are you doing here?”
“Getting a burger.”
I don’t bother taking out my order pad.
“Which your original waitress could've gotten you. I’ve got a twelve-top birthday party waiting on me.”
“I wanted to see you.”
My omega stirs. “You just?—”
“More of you.”
“I’ll see you next Wednesday. Until then?—”
“It's not enough.”
Heat crawls up my cheeks. He’s trying to worm his way back into my good graces, and I can’t let it happen.
“You don't just get to storm back into town and demand my time. Who told you I work here?”
Connor rolls his eyes. “Give me a little credit, Birdy. You were wearing a Murray’s Grill shirt at our session, and your hair smells like the grease from their kitchen. Pat uses peanut oil. No shower last night?”
Of course he’d have a sharp fucking nose. I want to smack him. I didn’t shower, and I currently feel disgusting, thank you very much.
“Can you also smell which line cook I’m fucking?”
His eyes flash dangerously, his scent jumping. “You don’t smell like any male. You don’t smell like much of anything, actually. Coffee, ink, fry grease. No natural scent. Odd, for an omega.”
Lovely . “My three callings.”
“Why are you working so many jobs, on top of school?”
I narrow my eyes at him. “This isn’t social hour. Order, or I’m going to get your original waitress.”
He sighs dramatically. “I’ll have my usual.”
I start rattling off without thinking. “Number 12, add bacon and avocado? Sub fries for onion rings? Bottled Mexican Coke.”
He’s silent, and when I glance up he wears a smile that catches me in its aura and threatens to pull me under.
“You remember.”
I break our gaze and thumb the fabric of my apron pocket. “It’s my job to remember.”
He passes me the laminated menu, and I take it without meeting his eyes.
“I’m not trying to bother you, Birdy. I get a burger here every time I come to town. Pat’s a wizard.”
“Pat retired.”
“Fuck.”
“Mac didn’t tell you?” Apparently things in the Masters’ household were more strained than I realized.
“We don’t exactly catch up often. Who’s running the show now?”
“Francine.”
“You poor thing.”
I smother my grin. Stop letting your guard down , Lana!
“It’ll be right out.”
I hardly see Connor the rest of the night. Someone else takes out his food, and I’m too busy being the birthday party’s bitch to do much more than top up his drink and print his bill.
Grandma’s steak isn’t leathery enough, the kids spilled two drinks and want enough extra ranch to drown a small mammal.
Half the party wants to wait for their late guest to order, and the other half is too hungry to wait, which makes their meals come out staggered.
Half of them want drinks in to-go cups. They tip under 15%.
By the time I make it back to Connor’s table, he’s gone. I try to squelch the disappointment rising up my throat. He’s tipped twice the total of his meal and left his number scrawled on the receipt.
I sigh and pocket it, even though his number hasn’t changed. Just another thing about him I never managed to scrub from my brain.