Page 33

Breakaway

I f past Jolene told me Edgar Olivier Boone III would end up sitting next to my whirlpool tub while I soak away a night of debauchery, I would have laughed in her face. Yet he’s reading me some spicy romance novel he found on his Kindle app in an array of accents as I wash the club glitter from my hair. Life is weird sometimes, especially since I moved home to the Hollow. He pauses occasionally to make sure I’m awake, but I’d swear he’s enjoying this.

What is it biologists say?

Pop culture gets it wrong—true alphas care for their packs like a den mother, not run around snarling and being giant dickwhistles? If that’s true, Teddy is proving his alpha status today. He was gentle as hell when he pulled me out of his car and carried me inside—despite my vocal protests—and sat me on the bed. Water was run, clothes were laid out, and he even undressed me without a single innuendo. Miracles like this don’t happen every day, so I let him baby me.

A girl likes to be taken care of sometimes, even if she can take care of herself.

After his quiet interrogation about the events of the evening, Teddy let me soak for a bit while he texted. Then he settled in on the steps and started reading in that rich voice of his, and I was a goner. I haven’t even asked his opinion of what happened; I figure that’s a conversation we can have once all the unusual fog lifts from my brain. My memory is another story altogether, and I don’t expect to solve that riddle soon.

“Are you listening, drugar , or are you falling asleep again?”

My lips curve as I turn my head to look at him. I lift my hand to brush the stylish shaggy strands out of his eyes, feeling that bizarre squishing in my chest. “I’m listening, Teddy, but I was also thinking about what past us would think about present us. I don’t think I could have imagined this in my wildest dreams as a teen. I was certain you hated me. After the cotillion…” I let my words drift off because it still aches to think about the details of that night and what happened at school in the weeks following.

Sitting his phone on the end of the steps, he leans into my hand for a moment. “Ah, Tilly. We were kids—stupid ones, at that. The way our parents pushed us to associate with children of those they considered social equals, the intense expectations of being one of the ‘named families’, and the sheer idiocy of youth all contributed to poor decision making. I could say those are the only factors, but I’d be lying and I don’t want to do that to you. There was a significant amount of outrage in our group because not only did you never care what or whom we were doing, you actively fought against our petty tyrannies. You were a fucking Katniss, and you didn’t know it.”

I blink. I was what? Where the hell did that comparison come from? “Teddy, I don’t understand. I spent most of middle and high school actively avoiding your crowd unless I had to save someone from one of your torturous ‘pranks’. I didn’t engage with y’all. How could I have been some YA resistance leader?”

His chuckle rumbles as he gives me a lop-sided smile. “ Drugar , you didn’t avoid us. You snubbed us at every turn. If we were holding court somewhere, you’d walk away, head held high. When we bullied someone, you intervened. Those we had vendettas against you protected. All the while, you acted like our influence and power didn’t exist in your world. The girls wanted to do so much worse than the Cotillion shit; the guys and I had to back them off a couple times because their ideas would have been impossible to cover up. Threats of ruined records and college admissions were the only thing that kept you from being traumatized. Trust me.”

The truth in his words is clear by his earnest expression, but I can’t believe I survived six years of what I thought was hell only to find out that Teddy, Benjy, and their cohorts prevented the mean girls from making it immeasurably worse. It upends my world, and I sit in the warm bubbles, just gaping like a landed trout. What in Hera’s name could they have wanted to do that even the bully boys thought was too far? I can’t fathom it, but his admission about the threats of college admissions problems let me know it was likely illegal.

“Don’t look so shocked, Tilly. You know what we planned the night of the cotillion? It wasn’t meant for you, and you took the brunt of it. The girls had much more emotionally and possibly physically scarring ideas for you, just not in public arenas.” He pauses and murmurs, “Even then, I was too fond of you to let them destroy your spirit. I liked when you fought us then, as much as I like you fighting me now.”

“Edgar Olivier Boone III, you want a brat. I’ll have you know that’s not my style, buddy,” I say, giving his hair a tug as I try to smile.

The timbre of his voice drops and he growls low. “Tilly, I hate to break it to you, but even switches can be alpha brats. You might as well knock things off my table and living on iced coffee.”

A laugh breaks free, and I shake my head. “That’s it. I’m having Wolfie put a parental lock on your phone. Seer helping you sign up for TikTok is an absolute nightmare and I hate it. You’ve already got Jekyll and Hyde addicted to the animal video hashtags you play on the TV for them at night.”

“That’s me—bad influence and scoundrel extraordinaire. I wonder if being a crooked alphahole judge makes me some kind of trope in this book?'' He grins, picking up his phone and tapping keys. “I should search up more shit like this because you were so relaxed when I read to you. I think you like smutty bedtime stories. Maybe the boys can act out scenes? I bet I could get Dr. Birdman to convince your pup to do it.”

Wrinkling my nose, I splash bubbles at him, and he sputters as he rolls to the side to keep his phone dry. “Jesus, Tilly. A little warning next time.” Using a towel to meticulously dry it off, he frowns and clears his throat, “Siri, notes. Order waterproof case for phone.”

I rise to my feet while I roll my eyes at him. “Okay, Judge Boone. I see you planning for every eventuality; I get it. However, whatever happened to me last night was not planned. Do we need to call the boys and meet them at Prez’ office? I don’t know if he can test for anything, but…” I shrug, feeling exposed and unsure. “I guess we should find out if anything… bad… happened?”

His eyes darken and I could swear they turn pitch black. “We should, because if someone harmed a hair on your head, I’m going to make their deaths very painful.”

“Don’t be so dramatic, Teddy. We’ll have to track them down in that big city, and I don’t have a clue what happened. Neither does Seer. The police won’t even be able to do much because we waited so long to report. You will not hunt them down on your own.”

“Not on my own,” he echoes, picking me up with the towel he’s holding. “But it will definitely be a hunt, and they don’t stand a chance.”

Why are men so freaking weird ?

* * *

“It’s about time, Boone,” Prez grumbles as we walk in the front door of the adorable building that sits on the edge of his property.

He lives at the other end of town from both me and his practice, but Teddy insisted he have an emergency office set up here. From the looks of the quaint waiting area, I guess he’s right. Presley is one of those old timey town doctors who do house calls and take emergency calls in the middle of the night.

The closest thing I’ve ever seen to that is the ‘concierge doctors’ the wealthy contract in the Hamptons, and I just figured those people were shysters bilking the Uber-wealthy. This place seems much more geared to treating actual patients rather than writing a script to make the problem go away.

These men constantly amaze me, and I hope it never stops.

“Do you see patients here often?” I ask, looking up at him. His eyes soften, so he must see the discomfort the thought of this visit is causing me.

“Rarely, but it’s here for emergencies and last minute scheduling. Are you uncomfortable with me looking you over, magpie? If so, we can take you to a doc in the city.”

I shake my head. “No, it’s fine. I know there isn’t a need for any kind of... assault kit… so I’m fine with you taking blood or whatever.”

Edgar lets out a dark snarl at my words, and I reach over to grasp his hand. The sound abates a bit, and Presley chuckles, reaching out to tuck a hair behind my ear. “If you’re sure, love. However, I believe the guard dog needs to wait in the front. Can’t have him losing his cool every time I need to poke you.”

That little shit. He said those exact words to provoke Teddy, and before I can react, he grabs McSteamy by the shirt and pins him to the wall. My head drops back on my shoulders and I stare at the ceiling, willing the testosterone to drop into the room so we can get this indignity over with.

“Tut, tut, Boone,” Presley says, letting my growly ex-bully pin him. “If you keep pushing me against things, I’m going to get ideas you aren’t ready for.”

A snort escapes my lips before I can help it, and a giggle follows. Wrapping my arms around myself, I laugh until my sides hurt, not caring if I look completely insane. Presley is the biggest troll of all, and he’s sniffed out an ambivalence in Edgar he doesn’t even know about. The situation tickles me because if Teddy thinks Prez is bad, wait until little Wolfie catches the scent. The two of them are irresistible together, and I can’t say I’ll complain when they figure out a plan of action.

“Fuck off, featherhead. I’ll go wait in the front, but only because it will make my drugar more comfortable. Don’t make me regret it; do what is needed.” He glares at my laid-back doc as if trying to communicate with his eyes, and lets go of his shirt, backing away.

Once he leaves, I tilt my head at Prez. “I thought you guys were all doing so well. What’s with the theatrics?”

“Ah, Magpie. Men like Edgar have serious issues when people dare to mess with what they consider theirs. This incident has pushed a primal button that he’s having trouble shutting off. He’s not angry at me, and I know it. He brought you here because he trusts me to take care of you.”

“I guess so,” I murmur, glancing out at Teddy stuffed into a tiny chair with his long legs stretched out. “So, tell me... what kind of nasty things are you going to do to me while you have me alone?”

Presley grins, his eyes dancing at my unexpected innuendo. “Why, Jolene Whitley, I believe you intend to test my professional integrity. I’ll have you know that I’m not that kind of doctor.”

His grin makes the tension in my frame melt, and I look up from under my lashes. “I’ll guess we’ll have to see about that, doctor.”