Page 44 of The Alpha's Pen Pal

“Haven! Sweetie! Hi!”

“Hi, Mom,” I murmured.

“How are you? How was rehearsal? Wait, no, it’s Saturday, no rehearsals, right?”

I gave her a wry chuckle. “Yes, it’s Saturday. But I still went to class this morning.”

“Isn’t it optional?”

“Yes, but—“

“You should be resting! You’re going to wear yourself out, sweetie.”

“That’s what Peter said too,” I told her with a roll of my eyes.

“Well, he’s your coach—“

“Director,” I corrected, rubbing my forehead.

“Whatever,” she said, and I pictured her waving me off like she always did. “My point is, he knows what he’s talking about. You should listen to him.”

“Right,” I whispered.

“So it’s decided? You’ll skip class next Saturday?”

I sighed up at the ceiling, holding the phone down against my neck as I prayed to no one for patience. “Sure, Mom,” I gritted out.

“Oh, good! I would hate to see you burn out or get injured when your career has barely started!”

I swallowed and nodded, even though she couldn’t see me.

“So, what else is new? Have you made any other friends besides your roommate? Kaya?”

“Maya.”

“Right, right,” she said.

“Um… no. Not really,” I admitted.

She made a huff of annoyance on the other end. “Well, Lennox stopped by the other day, and—“

“And I’m sure you told him I said to fuck off, right?”

“Haven Wainwright!” I heard my dad shout, and I winced, realizing I must be on speakerphone. “I know you broke up with him, but really, he is a nice young man, and—“

“Yes, yes,” I said, antsy to get past the issue of Lennox. “He was nice enough, but there was nothing special there,” I explained for the millionth time.

I would not explain to them how he wanted things I couldn’t give to him. Not without giving up my own dreams, my own plans for the future. I would not explain to them how he tried to control every aspect of my life when we were together. He was the son of a family friend, and I didn’t want to mess up that relationship for my parents.

“Well—“

“That’s all I’m saying about it!” I said in a firm voice. “Now, I…” I swallowed and pulled my cardigan around me tighter. “I wanted to ask you something,” I said in a timid voice. The voice I reverted to whenever I asked anyone for anything.

“What’s up, buttercup?” Dad asked.

“Do you remember the letter I gave you?” I asked slowly. “The one I asked you to send right after you first adopted me?”

“The one you wrote to that boy?” Mom replied.

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