16. River
River
I watched her with my brothers in that glistening lake for hours in the end.
She truly does look so carefree, and so, so happy it hurts...
I would only ruin that happiness, though, and chase away that sweet smile from her beautiful face.
So, I refrain from joining them. Instead, I watch from a lone picnic bench on the sidelines, hidden by a grove of pine trees.
Why do I do this to myself?
Make myself yearn?
But she wouldn’t want me anymore, anyway, no matter how much I tried. Out of the three of us, I treated her the worst.
I missed my chance. I should have accepted her offer back in high school, but I blew it like I blow everything else.
All because I couldn’t get over Emma.
What is wrong with me?
The sound of crunching gravel reaches my ears next, but I know by the May blossom scent who it is, anyway, even before she’s arrived at the bench.
Well, well, well, if it isn’t Daisy…
My annoying sister.
She wears yet another floral dress today as she sits beside me on my lonely picnic bench. She kicks her feet beneath her, and her toes barely graze the ground whereas I have to stretch mine out.
For the first ten years of our lives, Daisy was taller than all three of us. But as soon as we hit puberty, we shot up and outgrew her.
Daisy will always be a midget in my eyes, but despite that, she is still our big sister.
She still bosses us around.
One of her Alphas waits further up the path, and I can tell by the lingering scent of motorbike oil that it’s Briar.
I’d take Briar or Ash over Rowan any day of the week, but I’m still not wholly comfortable around him either as I tense my shoulders, keeping my eyes on Saylor and my brothers.
Daisy sighs, peering at me sadly now. “How are you, River?”
I roll my eyes. “Peachy as ever… Why?”
I meet her green eyes, the exact shade as mine. I can feel Briar’s own gaze on my back, and I know he is wary of me.
As an Alpha, he can’t help but be protective of his Omega, which is rich, coming from one of the assholes who rejected her in high school.
For a while, I was protective of Daisy when it came to Briar and his brothers…
Daisy smiles dejectedly yet again, and then her gaze drifts toward Saylor now. The Omega has climbed up onto Zale’s shoulders as she tosses her wet, black hair back, soaking up the sunshine.
“I know that there is a certain English Rose on your mind, R.”
A groan escapes me, and then I face away from her, peering at the pine tree opposite me. There’s a chittering coming from within its branches, and it looks like we have a squirrel on our hands.
Where’s Ash Thorn when you need him? He’s friends with all the local wildlife. I’ve seen him talk to bees for crying out loud.
“I have no idea who or what you’re referring to,” I lie, playing the nonchalant brother.
Daisy snorts. “Well, can you think of any other English Rose we know?”
I ponder then. “Your old friend Martina Coleman from Silver Grove High comes to mind.”
That Beta girl was the furthest thing from an English Rose I’d ever met. Trashy as muck. She was far from graceful, and her voice always made my ears bleed.
“No, I’m talking about a certain porcelain-skinned brunette. Stop with the masking bullshit, River. I’ve known you your whole life. I even changed your diaper at one point, so you can’t hide anything from me.” She points an accusing finger at me, and why does she always boast about that fact?
But there she goes again, trying to be Mom. We have a mom, and she is alive and well, thank you. Our fathers aren’t doing too bad either.
Even our grandfather is still kicking.
Grandpa, just like me, Zale, and Trent, isn’t too fond of Daisy’s Alphas.
Daisy rises from the bench. Briar steps closer as he meets her halfway down the path. She glances back at me as she reaches his side. I regard her and her Alpha from the corner of my eye.
“Also, you need to start going easy on the guys. All three of you,” she scolds yet again.
She’s talking about Pack Thorn, of course. My gaze finds Briar.
He smiles. “I’m all for a truce if you are, River. What do you say? Bygones be bygones?”
I narrow my eyes at the Alpha, regarding his tattoos. I think he designed them himself. Like me, he’s an artist. If things had been different, we may have even been friends.
But I’ll never forget the image of him walking away from my sister. It will be ingrained in my mind for all eternity.
I snort, leaning my elbows onto the table behind me. “Get back to me when your own sister is rejected by her scent matches, Thorn, and I’ll let you know.”
Holy shit. The look Daisy gives me next could rival the sun in the sky. But I stand by my convictions.
Pack Thorn are bastards, and I still expect them to break her heart one of these days. And of course, it will be up to me, Trent, and Zale to pick up the pieces.
I may even just kill them with my bare hands.
Grandpa, too.
I chuckle then, closing my eyes as I soak up some sunshine. “That’s right… You don’t have a sister…”
They do have Noelle Wynter-Hale, but she is their cousin. And as far as I’m aware, Pack Thorn never really fell out with Pack Wynter after they dumped Noelle in high school. They all stayed relatively close.
Whereas my brothers and I never fell in with Pack Thorn in the first place.
We were never friends. In fact, even before the public rejection, I didn’t like Rowan. He was an arrogant prick. Even in high school, he wore suits.
A shame he is family now.
Daisy shakes her head at me, face burning bright red. “Fine. Stew in your self-loathing, River. Briar and I have a movie to go watch.”
She takes his hand then, and I laugh. “Yeah, boring ‘90s teen flicks. You’re such a cliché, D.”
“Screw you!” she shouts back as she and Briar walk up the path now, ignoring me completely.
I’m still laughing by the time they’ve disappeared, making their way toward the lake houses.
That’s when my gaze wanders back to Saylor.
They’re all getting out of the water, and the last thing I needed to see right now was a soaking wet Saylor.
She truly is graceful, exactly like an English Rose. Other women try too hard to be sexy in their two-piece bathing suits, yet Saylor does it so naturally.
She doesn’t even wear a two-piece, deciding to leave enough to the imagination instead.
Fuck.
Now I get up off the bench, storming off in the opposite direction of the lake house. I can’t go back to the house because Daisy and Briar are ‘watching a movie,’ apparently.
Movie my ass.
Now silence settles around the bench again. It used to be comforting; I'd always preferred sketchbooks over people, anyway.
But somewhere along the way, solitude had transformed into loneliness, and I didn’t even notice when it happened.
Every drawing I finish now somehow ends up looking like her.
I tell myself that I’m not obsessed. I’m just guilty. There’s a difference.
At least that's what I will keep telling myself while I lie awake at night.
With my right hand.