Page 19 of Alpha Varsity (Wolf Ridge High #5)

Chapter Nineteen

A sher

For the second night in a row, I sleep at Lotta’s. This time it wasn’t an accident.

She didn’t kick up a fuss yesterday, so I figure it’s now allowed. It’s way hard to leave her bed when she’s naked and warm and coated in my fluids. I set an alarm, so I’m up before dawn.

“Asher…” Lotta rolls over to face me. I brush the black hair back from her smooth skin. She’s so fucking beautiful. “What do you want to do after high school?”

“This,” I answer immediately. Because this is it for me. I’ve arrived. Sleeping in Lotta James’ bed is more of a future than I ever imagined for myself.

I sense a touch of worry in her, though, so I sober. She wants out of this town, I know that.

“Coach thinks I might get a football scholarship somewhere.” I shrug. “It’s not like college is a dream for me or anything, but I’m also not tied to Wolf Ridge, if that’s what you’re asking. ”

“You should take a scholarship if you can get one. Get out of this town.”

“Yeah. Okay.” I sure as fuck hope she means with her.

I roll out of bed. “I have something for you.” I pick up my backpack and pull out the canvas I used to make my “self-portrait.” They’re due today in class, but I wanted to give it to her personally.

I hand her the little canvas, and she takes it with shaky fingers. It’s a multi-media collage. I covered the canvas with cut out pictures of things that remind me of us. I study her face as she takes in the piece.

She sucks in a sharp breath when she sees the gold moon pendant glued across the center. It hits me like a slap to the face.

The blood drains from her face. “H-how did you get that?” Her voice shakes. “Did your dad give that to you?” she’s panting, like she can’t catch her breath. “Or… your mom ?”

“What are you talking about?”

Her gaze is unfocused, like she’s searching for a memory. Then she drops the canvas on the floor and scrambles to her feet like we’re about to have a fight. “Did you… did you know ?”

Something is terribly wrong. Lotta’s upset, and my wolf would do anything to fix it.

I spread my hands to show her wolf I’m no threat. “Know what?”

Her eyes are wild. There’s fear and trauma in her scent. What the fuck is going on?

“Have you known this whole time?” She looks at me in horror.

I take a step closer, but she backs away. “Lotta, what are you talking about? ”

She searches my face. Blinks. Then exhales. “Oh.” She shakes her head, looking to the floor. She stoops to pick up the canvas, but I have a feeling it’s just to hide her face from me. I know I’m right when she comes up completely composed.

“I was just confused for a minute. Did I–Where did you, um, find my necklace?”

I stare at the necklace trying to decode what just happened. She freaked out when she saw it.

Asked if my dad gave it to me.

Why would my dad–

I snatch the canvas from her hand and rip the necklace off, pulling up most of the collage with it. I hold it up. “What happened? What happened with my dad ?”

I try to remember the last time I saw her before my dad was banished. It was the night I’d told her about him stealing. She hadn’t shown up the next afternoon for our session. And by the night after, he was banished.

“Nothing. It just reminded me of–of tutoring you. Before he left, that’s all.”

I stare at her, then look down at the necklace lying across my palm. There’s something here I don’t understand.

Lotta’s beautiful cornflower blue eyes fill with tears. What’s in her expression? Regret? Yes, but something else. Something that looks like a wound. Like she’s been hurt.

I suddenly feel like I’ve been knocked to my knees. Or perhaps I do drop to my knees–I’m not sure. The room is spinning. I’m hot. My canines have dropped.

“Did he…” It’s hard to speak. My larynx is being dragged along a rusty blade. “Did he hurt you?” I can barely rasp the words out.

She holds her hands up, as if to wave away my anger. “ Your mom stopped him,” she says quickly. “Nothing happened. He tried, that’s all.”

Tried.

My vision turns red. Rage explodes all around me. My dad laid hands on my mate. Assaulted her! I’m going to kill the bastard.

And I had it backwards all this time. I thought she’d done him wrong. Oh fate.

I let out a howl of rage.

I’m not sure when I shifted, but my four paws scrabble over Lotta’s polished saltillo tile. I’m slamming into walls, knocking over furniture, trying to get out of confinement.

Lotta throws open the door, and I bolt for the outdoors.

I need to hunt my progenitor and kill him.

Lotta

My vision goes wavy, and I clap a hand over my mouth to hold in a sob. My casita feels like a tiny card house in Asher’s wake. There are claw marks on the wall. A broken barstool lies on its side on the floor.

My mate is in so much pain.

In this moment, with the advantage of hindsight, I’m sure I did the right thing. My wolf or my muse or whatever part of me it is that sees into my future was guiding me when I swore the council to secrecy about what happened.

There’d been a mix-up about where I was supposed to meet Asher. I’d told him I couldn’t make it to Sweet Treats after school, but I’d come to his house later, but he was waiting at the bakery for me. His dad pulled me into the house. He was angry with me for defending Asher the day before, and he launched into a tirade against me, how I was uppity like my mom, and that pack royalty shouldn’t exist.

And then his aggression got physical. I don’t know why I couldn’t shift to defend myself–probably he had some form of alpha command that held me in place. All I remember is that he had me pinned against a wall with my shirt half-torn when Asher’s mom walked in and beat him off. Only then did I shift and run straight home.

I ran into my house coated in the scent of fear and drunken shifter. There was no hiding what had happened from my parents, and my mom wasn’t going to allow the man who laid a finger on her daughter to remain in the pack.

It had been a horrific, vicious decision.

I didn’t want to hurt Asher. My mom said I’d be protecting him and his mom because his dad was a monster who hurt them both. She said I had the opportunity to rid him from their lives, and the pack would thank me.

I made one stipulation. I asked that the council proceedings be sealed from the pack before I spoke. I was underage, so everyone thought it was about protecting my privacy, but it wasn’t. It was for Asher. Even then, not knowing he was my mate, I intuited how much this knowledge would hurt him.

I recounted the attempted assault, and I told them about Asher’s dad stealing money from the till at the brewery. I asked that if they ever needed to give a public reason for his banishment, his thieving was why. My mom had spent all night before the meeting digging up proof of his on-going crimes, so it wasn’t just my word.

When I returned and realized how much Asher hated me, I’d questioned my decision. Not because I needed his understanding–I was willing to be the villain to him. It was because it seemed he’d suffered terribly anyway. The pack had treated him like shit without even knowing what happened. But now, seeing his anguish at finding out the truth, I’m sure I did the right thing. Feeling wronged by me allowed him to have a sense of righteous anger and rebellion. He retained his dignity. Had he borne the shame of his father’s deeds through his teen years, I fear he would’ve shut down completely. Perhaps even left town, as well.

And then I probably never would’ve met my fated mate.

My morning alarm goes off, making me start. I swing the door shut and look around.

Crap. What should I do?

Asher’s hurting. I want to help. I need to help him. I wish I would’ve shifted immediately and followed him. Now there’s no way I’d catch up to him.

I glance at the clock. Dammit.

I take a quick shower, grab an apple to eat, and drive to Sweet Treats. Asher’s mom should be working today.

She and I have avoided each other since the incident. I’m not sure why. I think I was ashamed for leaving her to fight her husband alone that night. She was probably ashamed for what happened. Neither of us have spoken about it–which now strikes me as really fucked up and weird.

I park in front and walk in. Mrs. Angelson gives me a wave from the kitchen door. “Hi there, Carlotta! I heard you were back in town!”

“Hi, Mrs. A!”

I force myself to meet Mrs. Martin’s gaze and step close to the counter. “Um, good morning, Mrs. Martin. H-have you seen Asher?”

There’s no surprise in her expression, but her brow furrows. “No,” she says slowly. “He didn’t come home last night.” She studies me. “I guess I thought he might be with you.”

“He was,” I say. “But, um…” I swallow. “This morning he found out about…” My heart thunders against my sternum, and my palms are wet. I haven’t spoken about the incident since the council meeting. “It came out this morning.” I try and fail to swallow. “--what happened with his dad. And Asher wolfed out and ran.” My eyes swim with tears.

Asher’s mom goes pale. She comes out from behind the counter. To my shock, she pulls me into an awkward hug. “Thank you.” Her voice is taut.

“For…what?”

“For caring about my son.”

I fight my tears. “Of course I care. I mean, I’d care anyway, but…he’s my mate .” I whisper the last words.

Mrs. Martin jerks away to stare at me in surprise.

I nod. She throws her arms back around me, this time in a tight embrace. “Oh, that’s incredible.” I hear happy tears in her voice, as if I’d just told her I’m pregnant or something. But fated matches are rare enough that it is worth crying over. Most wolves never find their one true mate, they just make a life with a shifter who’s compatible. “What a blessing–for you both.”

“Yes, but that’s why finding out what happened drove Asher to madness.”

She releases me again, her expression clouded. “Yes. Yes, I see. Well, it needed to come out at some point. Give him some time and space to cool off and process this–it’s a lot to work through. You go on to school, and I’ll call him in as absent. Hopefully he will run off his anguish and come back before dark.”

Before dark.

Fate, that makes my heart ache. I don’t want Asher out there alone in anguish. I don’t want him in anguish at all.

“Go on,” Mrs. Martin urges. “I’ll be sure he contacts you when he’s back.”

“Okay, thank you.” I squeeze Mrs. Martin’s shoulder.

She gives me a fierce hug. “I’m so happy for you both. Don’t fret over this. Fate throws curve-balls. It makes us nimble.” Her smile is sad, though, reminding me that Fate has thrown her far more than her share of curveballs.

I owe it to her as much as to myself and Asher to make sure we work our stuff out.

As I climb into my car, a text comes in on my phone. My heart leaps, illogically hopeful it might be from Asher.

It’s not. It’s from Andy.

Andy:

See you at 5

Nope. This isn’t happening. Asher needs me.

Me:

Sorry–I can’t go. Something came up. Good luck, though.