Page 47 of Mark & Don't Tell

At the end of the day, she’s his mom, and while I suspect he might’ve been told a drastically different story than the truth, I’ll never say a bad word against her to Ryan.

I’m forty-two, and all I have to show for myself is a room full of paintings. Sure, there’s the company, but that’s something we did as a pack. Me, though? I don’t know that I’ve ever done anything worthwhile.

My own son doesn’t want anything to do with me.

Maybe I’m more like my parents than I care to admit.

Dread slithers through me as I clean up.

I’m not like them, though, am I?

I played with Ryan. I read to him. I slept in his bed when there were storms and he was scared. I told him I loved him every time I felt like it. I made sure to give him hugs because I never got them. I wanted him to know how much I cared about him. Maybe I was too much? Maybe I overdid physical affection.

Get out of your head, Linc, I tell myself, knowing if I don’t, I’ll spiral even further and end up in a bad spot.

Grimacing, I leave the ventilation system on but turn the lights off and join Kai in the den. He’s sitting in one of the chairs, a tumbler filled with amber liquid in his hands. A drink waits for me on the table. I know better than to get drunk on a night like this. The wine from dinner has worked through my system, and I won’t be drinking more.

Dropping into the chair across from Kai, I arch an eyebrow. “You good?”

He takes a sip of his whiskey. It’s measured. Controlled. Kai never wavers. “Vic said something I’ve been thinking about.”

“I’m dying in anticipation,” I say with a smirk.

“‘Still making promises you can’t keep, Kai?’”

I avert my gaze. It’s no secret that Kai goes out of his way to comfort people, even if he makes pretty promises that may never come to fruition. “And how did you feel about that?”

“I guess I have to be careful with my words. Even though I said Vic would stay, maybe I was wrong,” he confesses. “I don’t know if Vic will stay. I don’t know if Daria will stick around, but I do know I’m going to fight for our pack.”

My eyes cut to his. “So am I.”

And right now, that’s the best we can do.

Eighteen

DARIA

It’s been five days since the dinner disaster. Five days since I met my scent matches. Five days of wondering. Five days of worrying. Five days of torture. Vic hasn’t even called. He wasn’t at the family dinner Letti put together on Sunday.

At some point, I started to wonder if I imagined the whole thing.

But as I slip on the collar on Monday morning, I know it was real. Their silence leaves me with only memories to cling to. Even though they argued, it was easy to see they were a pack.

Linc, the self-professed funny guy.

Vic, the intense, brooding beta.

And Kai, the outgoing caretaker.

I slip into my Chelsea boots, which pair nicely with my black skirt, white top, and cute, lacy tights. Since I’m going to work, I grab a simple black blazer. With the collar, it’s very edgy professional. It’s a vibe and I’m here for it.

Is it sad that I’m still wearing the collar? Maybe, but I can’t resist hoping the pack will come around. Part of me is dying on the inside, hating that I haven’t seen them.

I grab an everything bagel and pop it into the toaster. There were five bags of groceries outside my door the other day. A receipt was stapled to the bag—an order for Nicole—but there was no one by that name on my floor, and the delivery person was long gone. Seeing as my kitchen was empty, I decided to keep the food.

Does that make me a horrible person? I spread cream cheese on the toasted bagel and take a bite, humming in approval. I’m down with being bad if it means I get to eat like this every morning. The groceries will only last so long, but I’m enjoying the free food while I can.

My thoughts turn to my fated mates as I head to work. I asked them to get their shit together. Logically, the shit gathering could take more than a few days and that silly, wounded bird inside of me is already singing a song of heartbreak.

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