A few minutes later, I’m on the open road.
It’s a beautiful day outside. We’re having a false spring right on schedule now in early March. It’s warm and sunny, and even though everyone knows we’ll get another long period of chilly mist before real spring comes along, the good weather lifts my spirits.
It doesn’t make me optimistic enough to believe that everything will be totally okay, but it does make the weight on my shoulders feel a little lighter.
The back country roads are, as usual, fairly deserted. A couple of cars rumble along lazily behind me, but it’s just me and my thoughts in the cab of Tim’s dusty, rickety Ford.
Noah is safe and happy in school right now, and Rowan is God-knows-where. I should relish the solitude and appreciate it for what it’s worth, but there’s a weird prickling sensation on the back of my neck. Almost like I’m being watched.
Except, one glance in the rearview mirror tells me there’s nobody else for miles.
But I can’t shake the feeling that I’m not as alone as it seems. Not even when I pull into the main driveway of Sweet Kettle Farm and there isn’t another soul in sight.
I kill the engine and peer out the window at the big, old barn stationed at the mouth of the drive. It’s huge and a little dilapidated, with a rotting roof that’s sinking in the middle. The little sign that reads Eggs-Milk-Butter swings lazily in the pleasant breeze.
Nobody comes out to greet me, but maybe Tim forgot to let them know that I’d be stopping by today instead of Dane.
I hop out of the truck and wander toward the barn. The massive doors are hanging open, and it looks brightly lit inside, so I make my way in and hope to find a staff member experiencing as slow of a Monday morning as I was back in town.
Except the barn is empty. Nothing is there but hay and stacks of boxes, and a couple of stray chickens pecking about. There’s no sign of the supplies that I’ve been sent to collect for The Diner.
“Hello?” I call out.
No answer.
I wander further into the barn.
“Is anyone here?”
Still no answer.
My neck prickles again.
There’s a shuffle of footsteps behind me, but before I can turn around, something strikes me on the side of the head.
Rowan
I had to leave my sentinel position in Alina’s driveway early this morning to make it back to Greenbriar territory in time to meet with my father and his Betas for our usual biweekly roundtable.
Most of the time, it’s a boring process to sit through. Running a pack isn’t all fun and games. There’s a lot of financial planning, budgeting, and tax requirements. On top of that, we take time in the meeting to review disputes that have been raised by pack members about whoever and whatever.
The meeting became a little more interesting when I brought up what I discovered about the satellite pack pushing at the outer borders of the Blackburn territory.
When my father asked for details, though, I lied.
I told him that I heard it from a member of Whiterose pack, not that I saw it with my own eyes. Because there is absolutely no reason for me to be patrolling in territory that isn’t ours-not when nobody knows that my Mate and heir are there.
Cal gave me a look when I said that, as if he knows the truth, which shouldn’t be possible, but he kept his mouth shut. Honestly, I probably don’t thank my Beta enough. Or give him enough credit for how loyal he is to me, even while doing his best to remain loyal to the current Alpha.
He tried to corner me on the way out of my father’s house, but then one of my father’s Betas called out to him, and I used the temporary distraction to slip away.
I didn’t know why I was in such a rush to get back to West Pond. I had no reason to be on edge. It was mid-morning, warm and sunny, and I was in a good mood despite the events of the weekend. I knew Alina was at work and Noah was at school, and therefore I didn’t have a whole lot else to do except continue poking my nose where it technically doesn’t belong.
But, from the moment I woke up this morning, I haven’t been able to shake an uneasy feeling in the pit of my stomach. Like my wolf instincts know that something bad is coming, but my human logic hasn’t caught on to what it could be.
It could also just be the remnants of how I felt on Friday night after climbing down from Alina’s rooftop.
I think about it during the entire drive to West Pond.
Not that there’s much to think about.
If someone looked up the word impasse in a dictionary, there would be a picture of me and Alina. We’ve reached a point where she knows how much I want her in a physical sense, and she also knows now how much I regret rejecting the bond and triggering her escape from the pack.
And now I know that she wants me, too. Perhaps only because the bond has programmed her to be physically attracted to me, but it’s something.
She dreams about me.
She yearns for me, even in the throes of sleep.
And she gets so lost in the overwhelming sensation of my touch on her body that she forgets all her stubbornness and anger for a little while.
That has to mean she doesn’t hate me anymore.
Perhaps if I had the balls to tell her the truth-that I love her and have always loved her and will, despite my better judgment, love her for as long as I live-she might even start to tolerate me. Maybe even she’d want to be my friend, at the very least.
But the painful reality is that none of it matters, anyway.
I may love her, and she may no longer love me, but it doesn’t erase the prophecy. It doesn’t get rid of all the complications that come with it.
Unless she wants to ruin me, and thus ruin the pack, we can’t be together. It’s as simple as that.
There has to be another path forward for us, though…
I’m scowling by the time I roll down Main Street, muttering under my breath as I park in front of The Diner.
Inside, it’s mostly deserted. An older couple shares their breakfast at one end of the bar, and a couple of shifters are hanging out at one of the booths at the back of the restaurant.
Alina isn’t here, though.
She’s supposed to be behind the bar, tinkering away with the coffee machine or harmlessly flirting with one of the customers.
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.