Page 95 of Forget

“I’ll be right back,” he grunts, striding away as I watch him in shock.

This is the alpha my mother fell in love with.I can see why, because he’s attentive and loving to those that matter. Everyoneelse can get fucked, but it’s clear that he cares. The scary parts of Dad are in him too, I’ve just never seen them.

Could that have been why my mom left? She didn’t want all of him? I’m sad that I’ll never know. It’s not fair.

Breathing deeply, I smell the scent of leather and aged whiskey.Am I hallucinating?

I’ve been wanting to smell it for so long, that I’ve been sneaking into Dad’s liquor cabinet just to smell his whiskey. There’s one that smells exactly like the scent I’m smelling, minus the leather. It’s weirdly obsessive, but I can’t help it.

“Mine,” I whisper, turning in a circle. I’m completely by myself. I must be losing it.

Fuck, that’s exactly what I need right now.

“Okay, I’ll walk this up for you,” Dad says, striding up to me. There’s slight tension lines between his eyes that weren’t there before, making me wonder what happened.

“Thank you,” I mumble, walking back up the stairs with him.

“You’re going out tonight?” he asks.

“Yeah, I have a date,” I tell him. “I’m trying to figure out if I should cancel it and call Pack Royal.”

No one wants to hear that their daughter is scheduling a heat fuck party, so I don’t go into details. Dad is able to connect the dots.

“What if this date goes really well?” Dad asks. “I mean, it’s possible, right?”

“Maybe,” I sigh. “Half the time I think I’m losing my mind. I keep smelling things that can’t be.”

“Or, it could be intuition,” he mutters, walking into my room with me. The maids who clean my room are betas with very little scent, so it doesn’t bother me. Otherwise, I would be the over sensitive omega who insists on cleaning her own damn room.

“You know what, if I go downstairs, I may shoot Hayes. His face is pissing me off today. Can I help you, or will my scent fuck things up?”

“I think because you always stay with me when I’m sedated, it doesn’t bother me at all,” I tell him honestly. “I would love your help.”

Dad takes direction well, and never once complained when I changed my mind. Three hours later, my nest is perfect, my blankets are the way I want them, and it’s time to get ready for my date.

“I feel better, oddly enough,” I mutter.

“That’s normal,” Dad admits, stretching his arms over his head. I’m surprised no one has come looking for him. “I’m going to put away the stepladder. Are you sure you’re okay to drive?”

Peeking outside around the new curtains I asked Dad to put up today too, I nod when I see it’s not snowing.

“I’m good,” I tell him. “I feel more settled, knowing my room and nest are the way I want them.”

“We should set up the room across from here as your nest,” he grumbles. “My daughter shouldn’t be nesting in a closet, no matter how big the thing is.”

“I don’t need that much room,” I chuckle. “What’s gotten into you?”

“Nothing, it just occurred to me that you should have something better than this,” he mumbles.

“Too much space gives me anxiety,” I explain, “especially if it’s just me. This is perfect.”

“Well, when it’s not anymore, let me know,” he says, taking the stepladder and leftover push pins with him.

Shaking my head, I close and lock my door behind him. That was so odd. Walking to my bathroom, I pull off my clothes. I feel overheated right now. Maybe it’s all the exercise from redecorating my bedroom and nest.

My forehead is glistening with sweat, and I look a hot mess.

Making a face in the mirror, I pad naked to the shower. I need to shave today as well. A little extra primping is in order I think.

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