Page 6 of Who We Were

I don't know what comes over me, but being grabbed by an alpha in such a vulnerable moment sends me headfirst into self-preservation mode. A setting I didn't think I would be capable of after all these years of submission.

"Shit! Amaya!" he grunts, then suddenly there's only blessed humidity gripping my bare arms.

I sink into the hot summer feeling on my skin, but next comes the solid cement burning my bare feet.

"Ow!" I hiss. Hopping from side to side, my panic dissipates as pain floods my senses. "Fuck," I grunt, and bolt to the weedy grass a few feet away.

"Where the hell are your shoes, Amaya?!"

Paul sounds exasperated, and honestly, me fucking too asshole.

The fire licking the soles of my feet and the audacity of this fucking alpha make me snap. "Who the hell grabs someone mid panic,Paul?!"

As the heat cools and my toes quiet their screaming, I huff and blow my sweaty hair out of my face. I'm about to check for burns when I realize what I just said to him.

I expect to see rage twisting Paul's features when I look up, but he's just watching me wide eyed with his hands up in surrender. I'm ready for my body to descend back into its demure state, but it doesn't.

Instead, I defend myself. "I kicked my sandals off. I don't like feeling suffocated, even if it's just my toes."

"Okay," he says slowly, gulping. "I'm sorry I grabbed you. I didn't know what to do, so I panicked."

"You and me both," I grumble and eye the stretch of the black tar from the car to my spot on the grass. "Just don't touch me, please."

He nods frantically, even if a little pained. Thankfully, the moment passes quickly when he snags my abandoned shoes from the footwell and places them in front of me.

It's odd, this big alpha kneeling before me. I haven't been above anyone since I climbed my childhood tree with—No, can't think about them right now.

There are streaks of gray in Paul's dark wavy hair. It's slicked back, adding an air of professionalism to his white button-up and blue slacks. Honestly, he looks like he just came out of a meeting.

"There you go," he says softly and stands. Not bothering to wipe the dirt or the gravel from his knee, he gives me a small smile. "Take your time out here if you want. I'll give you some space."

Then Paul's walking to the car and leaving me alone between a field of tall grass and a highway.

What the hell has my life become?

I take the small gift he gave me and close my eyes. A few deep breaths, and a dried teardrop later, I'm slipping my sandals back on and preparing myself for the final three hours of our drive.

It hasn't been more than a few minutes since we got back on the road when my eyelids start drooping, my panic attack making it hard for me to stay alert.

Just as my eyes fall shut for the last time, I hear Paul try to soothe me. "You can rest now, darling. I got you."

What I would give to trust my father...

4

AMAYA

ELEVEN YEARS OLD

“Don't eat that too fast. You'll get a bellyache."

I look up and around.

"And don't roll your eyes at me, young lady."

"I don't know what you're talking about, Nana," I say sweetly, and blink fast at her. Swallowing another bite of carrot cake, I add, "I'm not a baby. I know what makes my belly hurt. And it's not this."

I lift the plate to my face and giggle when the wrinkles around Nana's eyes deepen. "Don't you dare," Nana warns.

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