Page 58 of The Alpha's Pen Pal

I don’t know if she did it intentionally, but she leaned into my touch at my words, her body moving into my space as if seeking solace.

“Not here,” she whispered. “There are too many people.”

“Would you like to go for a walk?” I asked her.

When she nodded, I grabbed both of our drinks and walked to the door, pushing and holding it open with my back for her to exit the shop. Once she was out the door, I handed her the cup and put my hand on her back to guide her towards the park.

CHAPTER 21

WESLEY

We walked through the park, with Haven deep in thought as she continued to drink her latte. She had both her hands wrapped around the cup to keep them warm, and I mentally kicked myself for not realizing it was getting dark and, therefore, cooler outside.

We stopped on the small wooden footbridge, and she set her cup on the railing, folding her arms around herself as she leaned against it.

“We can go back to your apartment if you’re cold,” I said, setting my cup next to hers and reaching out to stroke her arm a little.

“I’m fine,” she replied, and I nodded but kept my hand on her.

As she stood there, staring out at the stream that ran through the park, I waited for her to be ready to speak to me. I didn’t want to push her. I knew I was regaining her trust and didn’t want to take any steps backwards. But my lycan was on edge, sensing her distress and anxiety and mine as well.

“Thank you,” she said out of the blue, breaking my lycan from his angry pacing.

“For the coffee?” I chuckled. “It’s really not that big of a deal, I—”

“Not for the coffee, Wes,” she said, looking at me with meaning.

I swallowed and nodded, my thumb rubbing her shoulder. “I did what I could,” I muttered. “When I discovered you had been adopted, I felt so helpless. So I did the next best thing I could think of,” I told her. “And I would have told you. Eventually. At some point. I was working on a plan to grovel, and—”

“Grovel? How?”

“Well, I hadn’t actually figured out what I was going to do, but I was going to do it,” I admitted with an embarrassed laugh.

She laughed softly, then turned serious again. “I thought I’d never see them again,” she whispered, staring out at the stream.

“You could have looked them up on google or something.”

“No, I mean—” She shook her head and chewed on her lip, her arms wrapping tighter around herself.

“The first year my… Matthew and Melissa had the football season tickets… they tried to… One of the games was the same weekend as the Youth America Grand Prix—that’s a big, prestigious ballet competition. And they told me I had to choose between going to the game and going to the competition,” she told me, changing the subject.

I held back my anger and true feelings at this revelation and her using their first names instead of calling them her parents. Barely. “And you chose the competition?”

“Yeah,” she said.

“I’m guessing there’s more to this story?” I asked with the barest amount of restraint, and she nodded.

“I chose the competition, but they chose the game,” she said in a voice so quiet even I had to strain to hear.

“Excuse me?” I growled, seeing red.

I removed my hand from her arm and grabbed onto the railing, needing to keep myself from hurting her. I needed to keep my rage and my lycan in check.

“Did you miss it?” I asked her through clenched teeth.

“No,” she answered with a shake of her head. “I had to ask another dancer’s family to give me a ride, but I was able to go.”

“How old?”

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