hard.
First, my pack being dicks last night at the meeting, and now, my father’s shadow hovering over me like an unwelcome specter. I want to be pissed at Sable for even invoking his memory, but I can’t blame her. I brought him up first.
This is the first time I’ve ever questioned whether taking the title of alpha from my father was a good idea or not. It’s never occurred to me that I’m anything less than a stellar leader. Though I guess that’s because my circle was fucking smaller than a dime, and my pack spent so much time lifting me up, I wouldn’t have been able to see through bullshit with a flashlight and a map.
By the time I finish flipping a few more eggs—not burned, this time—the rest of the guys drift into the kitchen, still in the clothes they slept in and looking just as rough as I feel. I doubt any of us are used to this kind of emotional fucking rollercoaster.
The oven timer dings as Ridge helps himself to coffee. He glances over at me while the steaming liquid pours and raises one sardonic eyebrow. “Since when do you cook, Martha Stewart?”
“Since I felt like it,” I shoot back, avoiding his laughing gaze.
Dare steps up next to me and opens the oven, then lets out a long, low whistle. “Mm. Those are some sexy biscuits, man. From scratch?”
“Shut the fuck up,” I say, but I laugh anyway.
Sable has just filled up her own mug of coffee, and she stops on her way to the table to rise on her tiptoes and kiss my cheek. “I think you did a fabulous job. Props to the chef.”
“I had help.” I swoop in and steal a kiss from her lips before she can cart her coffee away to the table.
Archer opens the cabinet to grab a mug for himself, then catches my eye. “Honestly, I thought you got lost on the way to the bathroom.”
“Lucky for you assholes, I have a bad sense of direction,” I joke.
I know it’s all in jest, and I do my best to play along, but the truth is, everyone in the damn room knows I’m not okay. Shifters don’t miss a lot, so I know they can see the tension in my tightly wound muscles and sense the unease within me. At least they seem to know my issues have nothing to do with them.
But even their jokes can’t shake the heavy weight lying across my shoulders. No matter how slowly we eat breakfast, and no matter how much time I manage to kill cleaning up afterward, it will only delay the inevitable. Sable and I are going to go see my dad, and that idea grates on me like a knife scraping down my spine. It’s all I can think about—coming face to face with the fucker, having to have a legitimate conversation with him.
I don’t know why she suggested it. My first thought was that she thought maybe I should pass the pack back off to him, letting him take over as leader again. God help me, for a minute, I even considered it. A life with Sable and the rest of the guys where I don’t have to lead, don’t have to worry about two hundred other people whose fates rest in my hands? The thought lifts half the burden weighing me down.
But I’d never fucking do that, and I know Sable well enough to know that isn’t what she was insinuating. She’s got a reason. My mate doesn’t do fuck-all without a reason. But what the hell it is remains to be seen.
Plus, she got to meet Archer’s dad, so the least I can do is let her meet mine. Even if he is a piece of shit.
After breakfast, I’m all set to wash every dish by hand using a God damned toothbrush if it will delay us a few moments, but Dare takes the rag right out of my hands and shoves me away from the sink.
“No way. You cook, we clean. Get out of here.”
“Since when do you have manners?” I quip.
“Since I had to be around your lazy ass,” he replies without missing a beat, then sinks his hands in the hot, soapy water.
So it’s not like I have any choice but to wash up, change clothes, and follow Sable out the door.
Damn, I’m not looking forward to this. The sum total of my interactions with my dad since the day I challenged him and