Page 7

A lina

“Mom, why is there a truck in our driveway?”

For the second time in twenty-four hours, I lose my grip on the coffee pot in my hand.

Thankfully, the one I have at home is just a cheap plastic thing, and I was only filling it up with water in the sink, so it clatters into the metal basin harmlessly.

I whirl around, looking past the kitchen doorway to where Noah is hovering in the entryway.

He’s dressed and ready for school, red backpack stuffed full with his lunchbox and probably a few comic books as well as his usual school supplies.

He peers past the curtains of the window beside the front door as I crane my neck to see out the kitchen window toward the front yard.

Sure enough, there’s a large black pickup parked beside my decade-old Jeep Cherokee in the driveway.

I curse under my breath, praying Noah doesn’t hear it.

“Isn’t that the same one that was chasing us yesterday?” Noah asks.

Obviously, I knew better than to think that Rowan would cut his losses and return to Greenbriar territory without putting up a fuss.

He’s a born Alpha. Determination and loyalty—or stubbornness and presumption, rather—are his natural traits.

He may have let it drop and returned home if it was just me here in West Pond, but now that he knows about his son…

“Mom? The bus is going to be here in, like, five minutes.”

Coffee forgotten, I hurry out to the entryway so that I can gently shove him back into the kitchen. “Don’t go outside without me. I’ll drive you to school today.”

“Don’t you have work?”

“Stop worrying about me, honey. Just sit down for a minute and then I’ll take you into town, okay?”

Noah frowns at me in confusion, but shrugs off his backpack and takes his usual seat at the table.

He kicks his legs back and forth impatiently.

Normally, he’d immediately reach for a comic to pass any amount of time, but it seems he’s too distracted by this bizarre scenario to let his mind slip out of reality.

Pushing aside the curtains as subtly as I can, I glance out at the driveway from the clearer angle of the entryway.

Rowan’s truck is parked with polite precision this time, and it even looks like he did his best to smooth down the divots his tires ripped out of my lawn yesterday. He’s not blocking my vehicle in either, even though that would be an effective way to prevent our escape.

He’s playing nice.

That’s more concerning than anything else.

I can see the shape of his strong, muscular frame sitting low in the driver’s seat of the truck. His face is turned downward, perhaps focused on his phone in his lap.

Except, a moment later, his head snaps up.

I let the curtains fall shut and yank myself away from the window.

“Mom? Who is that guy?”

Nobody, I want to say, but it doesn’t seem fair to begin with a lie.

I’m not going to keep the truth of who his father is from Noah, but I also need time to figure out how to explain it to him.

He’s a sensitive kid, and there’s a selfish part of me that’s afraid he might hate me when he learns everything.

“He’s someone I used to know before you were born,” I answer as calmly and diplomatically as possible .

“Okay…so, why is he here?”

I glare at the front door as if Rowan is standing right on the other side of it, even though my shifter hearing tells me he hasn’t moved from his lookout spot in the cab of his truck.

The bright side is that I’m feeling much better than yesterday.

As soon as I was certain that Noah was fast asleep and safe in his bed, I shifted and went for a run.

I didn’t go far. For the most part, I kept a tight perimeter around the house.

And even though Rowan’s scent lingered among the foliage, he was nowhere to be seen.

His truck was gone, and Zahra had texted me to confirm that she hadn’t seen him returning to Main Street.

Zahra also sent me a very strongly worded message about how we need to talk. I know I should feel bad for keeping such a huge secret from my best friend, but I can’t bring myself to regret something that was done for Noah’s safety.

Nobody could know—not even her. Because, if an Alpha started asking questions, or even one of Henry’s Betas asked Zahra about me, she’d have no choice but to answer honestly.

Then word would spread among the Whiteroses and, inevitably, it would get back to the Greenbriars.

If I told anyone who Noah’s father truly was, Rowan would have probably discovered us years ago.

Well, maybe not Rowan. I doubt he bothered to look for me after I left. But one of the Greenbriars would’ve found us.

Or one of the Greenbriar pack’s enemies would have.

I’ve been so distracted by these thoughts that I didn’t even think to check outside when I got out of bed this morning.

In my defense, I didn’t think Rowan would be waiting in the damn driveway. I imagined he’d lurk from afar or something.

“Earth to Mom?”

Noah looks startled at my speechlessness. I’m freaking him out.

I take a deep breath and offer him what I hope is an encouraging smile.

“Everything’s going to be okay, honey,” I tell him.

“But I need you to listen to me very closely…we’re going to go outside to the car, and I want you to get right in the backseat.

Don’t worry about the man in th e truck.

Don’t talk to him. Just get in the car and I’ll deal with it, then we’ll get you to school. ”

My son furrows his brow. For the first time, it occurs to me how much he looks like his father when he does that.

“Shouldn’t we call the police or something?”

I try not to laugh at his suggestion.

“That man means you no harm, Noah,” I assure him. At least I know that certainly isn’t a lie.

I don’t bother telling him that the paltry West Pond Police Department isn’t going to offer much of a defense against the primary heir to the Greenbriar Alpha.

“But, Mom…”

“It’s fine. Let’s go. You don’t want to be late.”

Noah looks like he’s going to protest, but then he simply shrugs and pushes back from the table again.

He stands there quietly, waiting while I tie my shoes and smooth down my hair and try not to think too hard about the fact that I’m about to confront the man who rejected me in a pair of oversized sweatpants and an old UNC Chapel Hill T-shirt from the thrift store.

Whatever—there’s no time to change, and I don’t give a damn about impressing Rowan, anyway.

It’s hard not to hold my breath when I open the front door. I keep one arm wrapped tightly around Noah’s shoulders as I turn to lock it behind me, and then I keep him close to my side as we descend the porch steps. To my relief, Noah doesn’t put up a fuss.

Rowan watches his son during the entirety of our short walk to my car, but he doesn’t get out of the truck. I move briskly, trying not to let my anxiety bleed into Noah, but I know that my son isn’t stupid. He can sense that something very weird is going on.

Still, he obediently climbs into the backseat and doesn’t even pout when I shut the door. As soon as it closes, Rowan flings his own door open and hops out.

Is this his idea of respecting my wish that Noah decide on his own terms when he meets his father?

I scowl and move around toward the front of Rowan’s truck, concealing us from sight as he stalks toward me.

The first thing I notice about Rowan in the morning light is the fact that he has dark circles under his eyes. Did he even sleep at all? What was he doing all night anyway?

Did he go back to Greenbriar territory to tell them what he discovered here? For some reason, I don’t think he’d do that. Not yet, at least.

“You need to leave,” I say in lieu of good morning.

Rowan shoots a look back in the direction of my Jeep. I’m sure Noah has rearranged his position to try to watch us, but I’m grateful he hasn’t developed his shifter hearing yet, so he can’t fully eavesdrop.

“I’m not going anywhere until you introduce me to our son,” Rowan replies. His voice is calm, but gravelly with exhaustion.

In spite of the rejected bond, seeing my Mate in such a worn-out state causes a flicker of irritated protectiveness to come alive inside me. I choke it back down.

“Not right now, Rowan. He needs to get to school.”

He exhales sharply, and there’s a flare of frustration in his blue eyes.

“That’s fine. Tell me when, though. Name a time and place, Alina. I have the right to know him, and deserve to meet me sooner rather than later.”

It’s too early for this. I didn’t even get the chance to make coffee yet. “I don’t know…”

“You’re not one of them,” he blurts suddenly.

“What?”

“You didn’t join the Whiterose pack.”

I straighten my spine. “No. I’m a lone wolf.”

Is that hurt I see in his expression?

“And is that how you would have raised our son? As a lone wolf?”

“I didn’t—”

“He’s an Alpha’s son, Alina,” Rowan grunts, taking a step toward me.

It’s a non-threatening maneuver, but I still find myself moving a step back to keep the distance between us.

“When he starts shifting, it’s not going to be like it is with other shifters his age.

He’ll be different right from the very start, and he’ll need mentors to help him through that.

He’ll need his father and his grandfather. ”

From what I remember, Rowan’s father is a good man. My parents considered him a strong Alpha whom they were honored to serve and honored to give their lives for.

I swallow hard. “He’ll be fine.”

Rowan frowns, as if he can see right through my conviction.

“Furthermore,” he continues. “Despite our…separation…my son has the right to learn the ancient Greenbriar traditions. He is the heir, Alina. We aren’t just any pack. You know that. Our bloodlines are ancient.”

I can’t help rolling my eyes at that. I don’t need any reminders about how primitive and mystical the Greenbriar origins are.

After all, the pack’s wise woman delivered a prophecy that has hung over my head for the past ten years.

I can never forget the power that Kseniya and her predecessors have, nor can I forget how that power lives in the veins of all members of the pack.

Lifting my chin and crossing my arms against my chest, I stand my ground.

“Noah has a right to make that decision for himself. He can choose whether or not he wants to be the heir, someday when he’s older and capable of actually deciding something like that.”

Rowan’s eyes widen. For half a heartbeat, I catch a glimpse of the softer, younger man he was the last time I knew him.

“Noah?” he breathes. “That’s his name?”

I try not to flinch. It hadn’t occurred to me that Rowan didn’t even know his son’s name. Surely, I said it out loud at some point yesterday in his presence?

“Yes. Noah Amos Sinclair.”

If he’s annoyed that I gave our son my surname instead of his, it doesn’t show in his features. Instead, he says, “You gave him your father’s name.”

I glance away. It was the only way I could think of to honor my late father, who died for his loyalty to the Greenbriars.

He died trying to protect my mother from the Blackburns’ ambush, and it was a futile sacrifice in the end.

Because she died that night, too. Another elder was badly injured, and a couple more pack members suffered greatly as well.

I don’t like to think about the past too much, though .

I shake off Rowan’s remark and glance down at my watch.

“I have to go,” I insist. “Noah needs to get to school.”

Rowan steps in front of me, blocking my path back to the Jeep. “I’m not letting you leave until we can agree on a time for me to meet my son.”

“This is my property and you don’t let me do anything.”

He scoffs. “Fine, then. I’ll do this the old-fashioned way. Is that what you want?”

“What are you talking about?”

“I’ll take you to court if I have to. I’m not eager to get into a custody battle, but you cannot legally keep my son from me without probable cause.”

Anger licks down my spine. My hands clench into fists of their own accord.

I’m about to tell Rowan exactly where he can shove his legal threats, but then I remember that Noah is barely ten feet away. He might not be able to see my face from this angle, but he’ll hear me loud and clear if I start shouting like I want to.

On top of that, there’s a pleading quality to Rowan’s piercing gaze. I’m not even sure he’s aware of it, but he looks desperate. Like he’d do just about anything for the chance to talk to his son for just five minutes.

“Alina, please.”

For some reason, that one word changes everything. Please.

I think about Noah, who has grown up not knowing his father. I’d like to think that I am good enough of a parent on my own, but there is also a part of me that understands a child needs his dad in a way that is so much different from the way he might need his mom.

Forget what Rowan wants. This is what Noah deserves.

I sigh, deflating on the slow exhale.

“Okay, Rowan,” I say. “You can meet Noah today. This afternoon. He’ll be at The Diner after school, and you can have a supervised visitation with him. But if he wants to leave, or if he isn’t interested in meeting you, then you have to accept that.”

Rowan’s jaw tightens. He doesn’t like the sound of that last part .

And yet, when he opens his mouth, what comes out is, “Agreed. That’s fine.”

“All right. Good.”

It occurs to me that now might be a good opportunity to question him about what he was up to last night. Where did he go while I was on my run? Where did he sleep? Why hasn't he told our—no, his—pack what’s going on?

But I shouldn’t care about his well-being or his motivations like that. I shouldn’t care about him at all. God knows he doesn’t care about me.

Without a word, Rowan moves aside and lets me pass.

Neither one of us says a thing as I walk through the dewy grass and climb into the Jeep.

Noah leans forward between the gap in the seats. “Mom, are you okay?”

I smile at him in the rearview mirror, but I think we can both tell that it’s forced. “Of course, honey.”

“Are you sure?”

It breaks my heart to hear the concern in his voice. He has such a sweet soul, the makings of a compassionate Alpha.

“I’m sure,” I reply, putting the car in reverse to back out of the driveway, and doing my best to ignore Rowan watching us the entire time. “But, Noah…we need to talk about something.”