“That’s a slippery slope.”
Zahra snorts. “Well, he already knows all about your slippery slope, girl.”
“Ew! God, Z.”
She takes a sip of coffee, then slowly becomes more serious. “By the way, I passed along what Rowan said about the Whiterose shifter who is apparently messing around with Blackburns in their territory.”
My stomach drops. I had wanted to forget about that detail. I wanted to forget about all of it. Life would be easier if we could go back in time to before the Blackburns started causing trouble.
Honestly, life would be easier if Samson Blackburn would just keel over and die.
“Yeah?” I prompt Zahra.
She leans in, lowering her voice further. “I told one of Henry’s Betas. He said he’d look into it. It’s not really my place to ask for further information on what that means, but…I did my best.”
I shrug. “Maybe it’s nothing.”
“Unlikely. It’s never nothing with the Blackburns.” Zahra knocks back the rest of her coffee. “Anyway, I have to go. I’ll see you later?”
“See you.”
When Zahra leaves, I’m left without much to do to occupy myself. The Diner is understandably slow on Monday mornings, and Caitlyn doesn’t really need my help with the waitressing duties. I end up idling behind the bar, polishing glasses that are already spotless.
My mind drifts back to thoughts of Rowan, as it is wont to do these days.
Although I loathe to admit it, what happened on the roof changed everything for me. Or, at least, it changed some things. It made me realize that, even though I already knew that I’m physically drawn to Rowan thanks to the Mating bond, there is also an aspect of that attraction that is purely human.
After all, Rowan is incredibly handsome. He also knows exactly how to touch me. Plus, when he does touch me, it’s like he has a one-track mind. My pleasure is his priority.
He’s very…generous.
And I like that.
Also, now that I’m getting to know him as the man he’s grown into, rather than the boy he used to be, I can appreciate how wise and responsible he’s become. He’s so sure of himself now.
He’s learned the hard way that there can be consequences when rash decisions are made.
Deep down, I really do wish things were different. I wish Kseniya had never opened her big, ancient mouth. I wish prophecies were fake bullshit. I wish she’d been wrong at least once or twice before, just to increase my chances that this whole thing might not end in disaster.
But things won’t change. Despite Rowan’s little pep talk about how the Greenbriars don’t actually hate me, I know that they’d prefer I stay away from him.
And someday, Rowan will ascend to Alpha with a capital A. He’ll lead the pack, like he’s been destined to from birth.
Then Noah will start maturing and need to be taken under Rowan’s wing to train for his future as a leader of the Greenbriars…but only if that’s what my son actually wants. The moment he tells me he doesn’t want that life, I’ll take him somewhere far away.
I know he’ll want it, though. It’s in his blood.
Either way, my place will always be on the sidelines. The rejected Luna, confined to the periphery. There are other elders who can easily replace the maternal needs in Noah’s life, too, so there might even come a day when he won’t need me, either.
I’m useless.
But I still have a job to do and bills to pay.
“Hey, Alina?”
As if on cue, I hear our manager, Tim, calling my name from inside the kitchen.
I poke my head around the corner of the open doorway. “Yeah?”
“Dane called out,” he tells me. “Stomach flu.”
“Oh. Okay?” I’m not really sure what that has to do with me. Dane wears many hats, as Omegas tend to do. Handyman, line cook, busboy. He’s only twenty, though, so he’s too young to be a bartender, and thus our roles don’t really overlap here at The Diner.
Tim sighs. “I was going to have him pick up some stock we ordered from Sweet Kettle Farm out on Whitten Road. Eggs and milk and whatnot.”
“Okay…” I still don’t understand.
“And it’s ten in the morning,” Tim continues.
“Right.”
“And the bar won’t be selling drinks until this afternoon, at least.”
“As usual. What’s your point?”
Tim cringes. Honestly, he’s too much of a softie for a managerial position. He hates telling people what to do.
“Would you mind picking up the order for me?”
I furrow my brow. “You want me to drive out to Sweet Kettle Farm?”
It’s about twenty miles west. Extremely close to the Whiterose-Blackburn border.
But it’s also broad daylight and, again, I’m sure that Rowan is just being extremely melodramatic about what he allegedly witnessed during his patrol.
“If you wouldn’t mind,” Tim says. “It’d be a huge help to me. The bar will be fine. I’d do it myself, but I’ve got to deal with some payroll bullshit. We got that new software, remember? Can’t seem to puzzle through it, but payday is coming for y’all and-“
“It’s fine,” I cut in, as politely as I can manage. “Don’t worry about it.”
With a sigh of relief, Tim tosses me the keys to his pickup. I tug off my apron and chuck it behind the bar.
New Book: Back Home to Marry Off Myself
Loredana’s father left the family for his mistress, leaving them to fend for themselves abroad. When life was at its toughest, her father showed up with “good news” after 8 years of absence: To marry off Loredana to a paralyzed son of the wealthy Mendelsohn family.