Chapter Twenty-Two
I spend the next day on the couch, flipping through bad movies and infomercials. I don’t want to read. I don’t want to clean, or study, or pick up a shift. I don’t want to do anything.
So much of my identity and daily habits were wrapped up in keeping secrets that I feel directionless.
I miss him.
Sitting in my apartment isn’t doing any good. I’ve cleaned and sanitized and sprayed, but the place still smells heavily of Connor. Maybe they make one of those foggers that kills bugs that works on alpha scents, instead?
By the time the sun dips below the horizon, my nerves are frayed, and I have to escape the house.
I grab the Miata’s keyring and drive it to Mac’s. I’ll catch the bus back, and it will keep Connor from being tempted to knock on my door again when he picks it up.
Will keep me from being tempted to answer.
Mac’s house is in the nice part of town, and his home always felt like more of a home to me than the series of bug-infested apartment complexes I’d shuffled between growing up.
I park in the Masters’ horseshoe driveway and ring the doorbell, swinging the keyring around my finger as I wait. Mac answers in sweatpants and one of his fitted Under Armour shirts, his hair rumpled like he just woke up from a nap.
“Lana. Why didn’t you just come in?”
I shrug. “Maybe you’ve finally got a new lady friend.”
He snorts and steps back, gesturing for me to come inside. "Right."
Then his head whips back to me, and he inhales deeply. His eyes go wide.
“You and Connor?—”
I wince. He knows. Of course he knows. Connor’s scent is going to be inextricable from mine for a bit.
“I take it he hasn’t been by yet.”
“Your heat?”
I nod stiffly.
Mac breaks into a wide grin. “Holy shit. I thought it’d never happen.”
I scrunch up my face and follow Mac inside to the kitchen.
“I thought you knew. I’ve had the Miata for a week?—”
“Yeah, it’s got GPS on it. I figured your car finally bit the dust and Connor lent it to you. That, or you wanted to indulge in a little grand theft auto.”
“Well, now that I know you don’t mind it disappearing…”
Mac pulls two beers out of the fridge and cracks them open, passing me one.
“I can’t believe it. Finally! When’s the wedding?”
The casual jab hits like a gut punch. I look away, unable to hold his gaze.
Mac’s smile falters. “What happened?”
“It’s temporary.”
“What do you mean, ‘temporary’?”
“He didn’t bite me, Mac.”
“You bite him?”
I give a little nod.
Mac swears under his breath and takes a long swig of beer.
“Fucking idiot. God, he gets it honest. Don’t worry, Lana. I’m not gonna let him fuck this up again.”
If only. "Not your problem then, not your problem now."
I nurse the beer, but my stomach is swirling too much to really enjoy it.
“Look, I just wanted to drop off the car. Figure he'll be by sooner or later. I’m gonna go. I’ve got a lot to do.”
It’s a lie, but this is the last place I want to linger.
Mac’s eyes hover on me for a beat, then he nods. “Alright. But we’ll fix this, you hear me? This isn’t how it ends.”
I shrug. “I’m used to being disappointed.”
I’m sidling down from the too-tall bar stool when I hear the front door open.
I smell Connor instantly; I’m still hyper-attuned to his scent.
I whip my head back to Mac.
"Stall for me. I'm not ready to see him yet."
“Mac!” Connor yells. “Where are you?”
Mac sighs. "Thought I was finally done playing secret-keeper."
" Please , Mac."
"Fine. Guess it's time to face the music."
Mac goes into the entry hall and swings the kitchen door shut behind him.
"Son. Wasn't expecting you."
"She's here? Where? I can smell her." Connor’s voice is rough.
"Just missed her.”
I hear Connor stride into the living room, his boots heavy on the hardwood floor. Mac’s softer steps follow.
I let out the breath I was holding. I can sneak out the back door and walk to the bus stop, but curiosity stills me.
“Listen, I know you’re angry?—”
“Stop. We're done. No more holidays, no more birthdays, no more calling ‘just to check in.’ I've been trying to preserve my relationship with you because of Mom, but this— my mate ? — "
"I know."
"Shut up. Let me finish. You lied to me. Every time I asked about her. Every time I came to you asking for advice, told you I felt discordant with my alpha?—”
"I'm sorry, son."
“Sorry doesn’t mean shit. I can’t believe you. I lost years with my mate. You only had Mom for twelve. You know how important time is. What it means to me. Yet you’d steal ours? How dare you?”
The part of me that still aches for Connor wants to announce my presence. Instead, I hover near the door, cracking it just enough to see a sliver of the living room.
Connor is pacing back and forth, his movements tight with barely leashed energy. He looks like he hasn't slept since he left yesterday. Is he wearing the same clothes?
“I played my part, but you need to take ownership of this, too. You told me you would be at that ceremony. Told her ."
Connor spins on his father. His jaw tightens. "And I’ll be punishing myself for that for the rest of my life. But you had no right to keep this from me.”
“I was protecting her."
“She didn’t need your protection! She needed me .”
“You weren’t there. She nearly died, Connor. I carried her out of those woods. She wouldn’t have come out on her own. The amount of guilt I felt—I owed her my silence more than I owed you answers.”
"It wasn't your decision to make!"
“I understand that you’re angry—that you’ll be angry with me for a long time.”
“Anger?” Connor lets out a brittle laugh. He yanks his collar down, exposing my bite. It’s beginning to scab over. “I’m fucking destroyed. My mate doesn't want me."
"Which is how she felt?—"
Connor snarls. "Don't you dare tell me how she felt. Do not speak for her. I will hear it from her lips or not at all."
There are several beats of silence.
“If you feel this strongly about Lana, then why the fuck didn’t you bite her back?”
My entire body tenses.
The punch comes out of nowhere. Connor’s fist flies, and the crack of bone echoes through the house.
Blood pours from Mac’s nose. It’s definitely broken—not for the first time, either. Mac clutches it and tilts his head back.
“I deserved that,” he gurgles through the blood.
“You deserve a lot more. If you weren’t my father, you’d be leaving this house on a stretcher.”
I must make some noise, because Connor’s hawk-like gaze slides to the kitchen door and fixes on me. I have an insane desire to run.
I turn around and grab the roll of paper towels and fill a Ziploc baggy with some ice.
Mac laughs when I step into the living room, making more blood bubble through his fingers. I shove the paper towels and ice at him and shoot Connor a scathing look.
“Lana.”
“Connor,” I say simply, as if he hadn’t said my name like a prayer. “That was unnecessary.”
“We’ll agree to disagree.”
“I’m leaving. Try not to kill each other.”
“I’ll drive you,” Connor says, following me to the front door.
“Fine.” I don’t have the energy to fight him. I walk down the driveway and shift on my feet next to the passenger door, waiting for him to unlock it. I avoid looking at him as much as possible.
“You’re not coming inside my apartment.”
“Fine.”
“And I don’t want to talk about it. Not right now.”
“Any other demands?”
I ignore him. We ride in silence. I fiddle with the A/C and radio because I need something to do with my hands.
We arrive far too quickly. Part of me doesn’t want to get out of his car when he pulls into my apartment complex.
“I’ll see you Wednesday,” Connor says.
I nod. I owe him that much. It will be our final session.
By the time I reach my building, my legs ache. I climb the stairs slowly, dragging my feet up each step like they’re weighted. Every step away from him hurts.
My apartment feels smaller than it did this morning. Connor’s scent still lingers. No amount of cleaning is going to erase it, and I shouldn’t find that as comforting as I do.
I drop my bag on the counter and slump onto the couch, staring blankly at the TV remote on the coffee table. The silence feels oppressive.
I close my eyes and will myself to breathe through the ache in my chest.
I’ve been here once before. I can do it again.