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The rest are more of the same, but I don’t need to read anything else. My hands shake the entire time I compose the text, but I send it anyway.

Me

Seriously, Mom. I need the paperwork you signed with the Parkers.

She responds instantly.

Mother

You mean your alphas, and I have no idea what paperwork you’re referring to.

Me

I’m asking you one last time to help me. Don’t let them destroy the one thing I’ve built for myself.

Mother

They wouldn’t have to if you would come home. Stop being stubborn and honor your responsibilities. Your pack deserves their omega.

I knew this would happen, but it was a last-ditch effort to see if she would ever choose me. Now I know she won’t. Mother cares too much about her country club frenemies and the way other people think to put her child first. Instead of the usual frustration and anger contact with my mother usually brings me, I’m justsad.

Family dinner with the Barretts was eye-opening in so many ways. Good parents love their children with every ounce of their body. They don’t coddle them or clean up their messes as adults, and they have no problem admitting when their child is wrong. They hold space for everyone’s feelings, and they love unconditionally. No payment required.

For the first time, I see Mother’s manipulations for what they are. A life raft to hold her rickety existence together. She used me to get further in her circles because she has no skills of her own. It took whoring her teenage daughter out to get her to where she sits, and she doesn’t care what it takes to stay there.

Fine. If that’s the type of person she really is, I don’t need her in my life, and I certainly don’twanther.

Me

In that case, don’t contact me again.

My finger hovers over the block button for the millionth time and this time I press it. I expect relief, but all I feel is an unwavering sadness that I wasn’t enough to make her be the mother I deserve.

My emotions bubble until I want to scream. Want to lose my shit and break something in this already destroyed place.

I want my alphas.

The urge to go home and curl up in my nest, warm and safe in their scents, sounds heavenly, but it won’t feel the same. Nate and Dez are gone, and Connor’s at work.

Connor.

He’ll be here soon. All I have to do is wait until he arrives. Once we’ve done what we need to, I’ll explain what happened. If he knows how shitty my day was, maybe he’ll come home early with me. We can order in and watch movies on the couch or maybe we’ll spend the entire night in the nest wrapped up together, but either way, I’ll have him with me.

Because even if I have nothing, I havethem.

PROMISES, PROMISES

DAPHNE

Instead of focusingon the shitshow Sasha dropped in my lap, I’ve been on my hands and knees, drying the floor out as much as I can, cleaning any supplies that got wet and trashing anything that’s unusable. Lunch comes and goes, my stomach rumbling after moving nonstop for hours. Takeout is an expense I can’t really afford, since delaying toy and mannequin deliveries means unexpected expenses, but I order it anyway because fuck it. If anything, I’ve earned something delicious. I make the order, texting Connor that I ordered for him too.

No response. In fact, I haven’t heard from him at all.

Maybe his meeting ran late.

He’s been working so much that it’s really not a stretch to imagine. Do I wish he’d called or texted? Yes, but he’s taking time out of his day to help me, and I don’t want to sound ungrateful or bug him for an ETA. It’s not like I’m going anywhere else. All my plans hinge on getting the store sorted out again.

Deciding my hands are pruned enough, I slink off to my sewing office and start making calls. Two hours later, I end up eating Connor’s lunch because I’m still starving. Dez and Nate’s flight hasn’t landed, so I don’t bother reaching out. Scrollingthrough the battery of unread texts in Connor and I’s thread, I decidefuck it. He obviously hasn’t checked his phone, so I’ll call the shop.