Chapter Six

CHARITY POV

I shuffle awkwardly, while my heart drops to my stomach, making me queasy as I watch him back away, giving me leeway to exit, to escape this torture. Of wanting to be right next to him, but needing to keep my distance.

Forcing my feet to move, I walk past, a fresh wave of guilt drowning me, knowing there are more reasons I denied him. Well, one specific reason. Or rather, a specific person. Fletcher. I’ve only known him a short time, but I cannot deny the magnetic pull I have to him.

As much as I don’t want to be attracted to him, I am. It’s not fair to Matt or Fletcher to start something up when I feel so…lost. I don’t know what to do from one minute to the next. Life is spinning out of control and It’s just better if I cut this off now, before one ends up heartbroken.

Climbing the stairs, I refuse to look back, regardless of how heated his stare is on my skin. Unlocking the front door, I hurry inside, leaving him to stare at me from the sidewalk.

The moment the lock clicks in place, my forehead rests against the doorframe as I try to catch my breath. It seems impossible to get air to my lungs and oxygen circulating through my veins. The sudden depletion making it hard to move, to see, to feel anything but hurt.

“Charity? Honey?” My father quips, full of concern. “Did training with Alpha Elle get canceled?”

Putting on my brave face, I sigh, shoving down the tears so he doesn’t notice my blurry eyes when I turn to face him. “Yeah,” I answer, once I have found my center, and there isn’t a waver to my voice. “She rescheduled it for later, though.”

Plastering on my brightest smile, the one reserved for gymnast competitions, I spin to face him. A bowl of cereal in one hand, while he stands in his patrol uniform. As a pack warrior, my father, Corey Conrad, practically lives in the outfit, and it drives him crazy.

His eyes narrow, his gaze not leaving mine, walking down the hallway. On his journey toward me, he sets his on the decorative table before wrapping me in his arms. Squeezing me close, it’s enough to break the emotional dam I had constructed.

Everything I have refused to acknowledge these few days cascade out like a waterfall. My chest heaving sobs while tears coat my father’s shirt and my cheeks. He doesn’t say a word or ask questions, he just lets me cry until the well has dried and the shaking stops.

I don’t know how long has passed before I pull away, wiping the water from my face. “I’m sorry,” I chuckle awkwardly, not sure what to say at this moment. Shouldn’t I behave differently as the Gamma?

“Aren’t you going to be late?” I ask, trying to distract myself from tumbling into more crying.

“I already let the Gamma know,” he whispers, still holding me in a hug. “You are more important. Always. What’s going on?”

I want to tell him, but how would I even start? Hey dad, I am torn between two gorgeous men, got any advice? Yeah, no, I’d sooner die from embarrassment. Plus, wolves don’t have two mates, so I doubt he’d really understand my dilemma.

“Becoming Gamma unexpectedly comes with certain challenges that no one could have prepared me for.” I cop out, taking the safe route, explaining the issue in not so many words. While dad and I have a great relationship, there is no way it could handle that conversation.

Then there is the mom of it all. There is no way he wouldn’t tell her. They’re mates. I think there is some unwritten rule mandating they share all their secrets and troubles. She is the last person I would want knowing a single thing.

“Probably not,” he says. “Every Gamma has a unique journey, a path they have to take. There’s a reason Elle’s wolf chose yours to be her third in command. Don’t discredit the incredible strength I know you possess.”

“I don’t know if I have the willpower to deal with this, though,” I shuffle away, ashamed to look him in the eye like he’ll know what I’m really hiding. Who I am really hiding.

“Do you want to talk about it?” he asks, nudging me toward the chairs in the dining room.

“I do, but I think what I really need right now is sleep.” My smile feels tight as I swallow my lies. My insides are screaming for me to tell him everything. From Matt and Fletcher to the impending battle for Silver Run, but the Alpha command stops the sentence before it can get further than a thought. “You need to get on patrol, anyway.”

“You sound like every Gamma, I know,” he jokes, kissing my forehead, stepping back. I cross over to the stairs and begin my climb. Only to stop halfway through and call him back.

“Dad?”

“Yeah, Char?” he asks, grabbing the cereal bowl from the hallway.

“You know Elle is going to return home eventually, right?” I ask. My body is rigid. I swear my blood has stopped pumping, terrified of what he might say.

“I know,” he nods, smiling faintly, “We’ll just have to cross that bridge when we get to it, but you have to go where our Alpha goes.” I cringe, unable to tell him the bridge is coming up faster than he thinks.

“And mom?” I ask, my heart warming at his encouragement. At least someone in this house supports my decisions and achievements.

“Let me deal with your mother,” he assures with a nod. “She wants to keep you safe, you have to know that.”

“And you?” I don’t acknowledge his defense, but the words still penetrate my psyche.

“I’m learning that we cannot fight fate,” his words were cryptic, and his expression vague. It’s like there are layers to that comment, but I am missing an entire book of context. I swear, my life and the people in it get weirder by the minute.

“Go to bed, sweetheart,” he nudges, with a nod up the stairs. His newfound knowledge nagging at me, but do I really have the right to be mad when I have so many secrets of my own?

I ascend the stairs, shuffling along the hallway until I find my room on the other end. Shrugging out of my clothes, I toss the items aside before crawling into bed. Pulling the blanket over my head, I imagine myself hiding here for the foreseeable future. Eventually, my eyelids close, the fantasy slowly transforming into dreams.

**********

Stretching in bed, I glance at the clock, grateful for the six hours of uninterrupted sleep. It hasn’t happened since my first shift. Most nights, I am plagued by the crushing responsibility to get more than a few hours at a time.

Pushing the covers back, I stand, quickly changing into an oversized sweater and some jeggings. Sighing, I look at the stack of unfinished homework on my desk.

You’d think I’d get a free pass from it considering the circumstances, but Elle would never hear of it. She’s a bloody genius who values education. Thankfully, I have been able to switch to online courses, but finding the time to do the work is another complication. My life seems to be filled with them lately.

Opening my MacBook, I start the Paramore playlist, letting “Misery Business” fill the speakers. Settling into the desk chair, grabbing my history book, I flip to the section we are currently studying. Greek and Roman mythology.

Leaning back, I read the section about the Roman goddess Diana, taking notes for the comparative essays the teacher assigned us. It doesn’t take long to become engrossed in the topic, the stories and tales fascinating me. The minutes tick by without noticing, my hand scrawling across the page until a knock pulls me from the work.

“Come in,” I call out, but the scent wafting through the closed door tells me who is out there.

“Dinner is almost ready,” my mom says stiffly. She’s still upset about our argument from the other day. I, on the other hand, have been drowning in so many other things I haven’t had time to think about it. “Are you and Matt dating?”

“What!?” I whip around so fast, I nearly fall out of my chair. In the doorway stands the woman I’ll probably become in twenty years.

Chelsea Conrad is beautiful for her age. Even in her late thirties, she can easily pass as a woman in her mid-twenties. Her blonde hair curled to perfection, not a piece out of place, and her makeup is always done.

Her blue eyes shine bright, when paired with her light grey dress with black Louboutin on her feet. Chelsea is walking perfection, and she expects nothing less from those around her, including me.

“Don’t act so surprised when you were seen arguing with him this morning. The neighbors saw you.” Of course, they did. Nosy ass wolves to mind their damn business. “Plus, let’s not even talk about the other night. Warriors saw you two in the field, Charity, and his scent was all over your clothes.”

Sighing, I close my eyes, trying to center myself, and prepare for the conversation she started. I think I’d prefer the guillotine to this. “I wouldn’t say that we are dating. In fact, I told him explicitly that we are not.”

A look of judgement unlike any I had ever seen from her before slithers across her face. Her entire demeanor changing within seconds. “Goddess, Charity, what the hell happened to the girl I raised? What were you thinking? Sleeping with him in the field like that?”

“Nothing happened! It was an accident!” Try as I might, I cannot keep the frustration from my aura as I stare, dumbfounded. “But what the hell is your problem with him, anyway?” I may not be dating the Gamma of New Moon, but it doesn’t mean I will not defend my friend.

“Matthew is like every unmated boy Charity,” she returns, her face serious, and slightly judgemental, which isn’t surprising. “They only care about two things: sex and power.”

“It’s not like that with Matt.” I bounce back, unsure why I keep engaging, but I cannot quit. I am only adding to her suspicions about us, the smugness in her aura increasing. “He’s my friend. It’s nothing like that.” Lies.

“Then why is he pursuing you like this when he never had before?” she counters, victory already sweeping through her pupils. “Don’t you find it odd that it took him until your forced shift and promotion to Gamma for him to pursue you so wildly? We have been neighbors with the Simmons forever, so why now?”

My mouth opens to speak, but nothing escapes, leaving me a spluttering mess. Her observations creating destruction on my insides. Can what she says be true? Summer growls at the suggestion, clearly believing the best in Matt. I, however, am not feeling so positive about his intentions.

“I told you, Charity,” my mother gloats, “unmated male wolves only care about sex and power.”

“Dad, isn’t like that,” I argue, refusing to get sucked in by mother’s extreme logic, but it seems impossible. The jarring realizations have my stomach turning in knots of despair.

“He was, when he was younger and unmated,” she says, forcing me to reel back at her confessions. I would question her honesty if I didn’t see the flash of hurt pass over her face. It was barely there, maybe a second. If had not been staring at her so intently, I would have missed it.

Without allowing me to ask more questions about Dad prior to knowing her, she pivots the conversation once again. “Dinner is ready.”

She backs out, leaving me stunned and reeling from her confessions. The hunger I once had vanishes, leaving me clammy and slightly sweaty as panic makes it hard to breathe.

What if my worst fears are coming true and my mother is right?