Page 22 of The Alpha's Pen Pal

Tiffany pulled me out of my chair and spun me around in a hug. “I’m so excited to finally have a little sister!” she exclaimed, and I giggled even with my tears still streaming down my face.

They passed me around to each other, each of them hugging me, all of us laughing and crying tears of happiness. I’d never felt so loved and accepted as I did at that moment. Even all the moments combined over the previous year and a half couldn’t compare.

“Jack! The cider! You forgot to grab the sparkling cider!” Mom yelled over the commotion, and Dad smacked his forehead before heading back into the kitchen to grab the cider.

“Where are the champagne flutes?” Dad called from the kitchen as he rummaged around the cabinets, moving dishes, pots and pans and Tupperware around as he looked for the fancy glasses.

“They’re in the same cabinet they were in the last time you asked me!” Mom chuckled as she rolled her eyes at the three of us. “I swear, your father has lived here for over twenty years, and he still can’t remember where anything is!”

The sound of glass shattering and a body hitting the floor had our laughter coming to an immediate stop.

“Jack?!” Mom called out to him, her voice tight.

Her tense body walked towards the doorway to the kitchen and froze in the entrance.

“JACK!” she cried out, disappearing through the opening.

Time slowed down. Tiffany ran after Mom, her eyes wide with fear. I tried to run after her, but Scott grabbed me around the middle, pulling me back towards his body so I couldn’t leave the room.

I fought against Scott, trying to get to the kitchen, to get to my dad so I could see him and make sure he was all right. But his hold on me was tight, keeping me in place while also trying to comfort me.

His mouth moved as he talked to me, his other hand brushing through my hair as he hugged me against his chest, but all I could hear were the sounds coming from the kitchen. Mom’s sobs echoed through the house, mixing in with Tiffany’s gasp of surprise and then her calm words as she tried to soothe Mom.

“Scott!” Tiffany shouted, her voice clear but shaking. “Call an ambulance!”

He moved his hand from my hair to grab his phone out of his pocket, and I took that opportunity to wiggle out of his loosening grasp since his focus was on the phone call he needed to make.

He yelled, “Haven, no!” but I was already around the table and through the doorway before he could get his hands back on me.

He cursed under his breath and followed me. I stopped in my tracks in the middle of the kitchen, my breath catching in my chest as I stared at the heartbreaking scene in front of me.

My dad was sprawled out on the floor of the kitchen, a small pool of dark red blood forming on the sparkling white tile as it leaked from a wound on the back of his head. The right side of his face looked almost like it was melting; it was droopy and did not match the left side.

His eyes moved around in every direction, the movements of them not in sync with each other. He was unresponsive to Mom and Tiffany, who both sat near him, trying to get him to talk or react to their voices.

I froze in place. My feet were super glued to the floor, unable to move forward to my family or turn and run out of the kitchen to the safety of my room. I didn’t know what was happening to my dad, but I knew it couldn’t be anything good.

My happy tears became tears of sadness as the bright future I’d had a taste of moments before dissolved right before my eyes, leaving behind only distress. Distress and fear of what would become of me in the aftermath of this tragedy.

CHAPTER 10

HAVEN

The waiting room at the hospital was cold. Cold, white, and clean, and filled with the scents of disinfectant, stale coffee, and anxiety.

I sat in my chair with my book bag, scanning the room, watching the waiting family members of the other patients in this wing of the hospital. I also watched the nurses as they came and went from the unit.

The amount of people in the waiting room dwindled, and the darkening sky outside signaled the approaching end of visiting hours. And, yet again, they had not allowed me to go back to see my dad.

“Come on, kiddo,” Scott said as he walked towards me from the restroom. “It’s time to head home.”

“Mom?”

He grimaced. “She’s staying here again. I guess they’re giving her a few more nights of it before they tell her she can’t anymore.”

I nodded, grabbed my bag, and followed him out to his car.

It had been the same routine for several weeks. School, hospital waiting room, home, repeat. Except, “home” kept changing. Some nights it was Scott’s house, some nights Tiffany’s, but never my actual home.

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