Page 52 of Pack Larsen

“I thought you hated me?” I blurt, not sure I’m willing to accept this new development.

“You want honesty, princess?” he asks bluntly, some of his sass coming back. Weirdly, it relaxes me, because it’s what I’m used to from him. Giving him a look that says ‘duh, idiot,’ I nod, and he snorts before growing serious. He takes a deep breath, like he’s trying to steel himself, before he finally confesses, “I never hated you, Silver. And that’s what pissed me off the most. Here I was, struggling with my bullshit, and then you came skipping into my life with your bubblegum personality, vibrance for life, and a smile that could slay weaker men. I hated how easy I knew it would be to fall for you if I let myself, and I hated that that thought ever crossed my mind. I fell for a girl who made it easy once, and I got fucked over for it. You were my trauma-based enemy, but you’re also the woman I can’t stop thinking about. Guess it was easier to act like I hated you than it did trying to figure out all the shit going on in my head.”

Well, shit. That’s not what I was expecting. Not at all.

I’m rendered speechless for a long moment, and Munro allows me to absorb his words, patiently watching me for any sign that I might lose it. A valid response, because I might be on the brink, overwhelmed and a mess of emotion I’m struggling to work through.

“So, to surmise and confirm; you were a dick to me because of your trauma with another woman, but you don’t hate me, you hate that you didn’t hate me while you were dealing with aforementioned trauma? But you actually like me and want to start over and be friends? More than friends?” I wonder, genuinely struggling to wrap my brain around this shit.

Munro shrugs and chews on the inside of his cheek, watching me closely for my reaction as he says, “Princess, I’ll take whatever the fuck you’re willing to spare me at this point. I’ve tried hating you, and I can’t. I’ve let my fear and trauma rule my emotions and decisions, and then I saw you cry, and it tore a piece of my soul out and shredded it. I’m sitting on the sidelines of my own pack, angry at myself, at Veronica, at the world, and at you because you’re giving yourself to my packmates and I have to sit back and watch, lying in the bed I made. You want to be friends? Fucking awesome, I’ll accept it. You ever think you could have more with me? I will die happy and make sure you never feel the way I’ve made you feel ever again. You want to kick me to the curb completely? I’ll understand and respect it. But whatever you decide, Silver, know that what you have blossoming with the others won’t be impacted by me. They’re my pack, but you’re quickly becoming a part of that, and I won’t ruin something like that for my brothers.”

I can do nothing but sit in stunned silence, my brain officially broken by the man I thought hated me all this time. The man who’s gone through it and came out the other end swinging. Swinging at me, mind you, but hell, he’s fighting.

Munro can clearly see the chaos of my mind painted across my face and, for the first time in every one of our encounters, the bad-boy beta with tattoos all over him and an attitude that would send a nun to a brewery offers me a warm, soft smile that muddles my mind even more.

“Have a think about it before you decide to write me off the way I deserve, okay? I know second chances are meant to be earned, and if that’s what it takes to have a clean slate with you, I’ll do it. I’m more than willing to make things right, princess,” Munro declares, standing from the couch in one fluid motion. He rubs his hands over his black jeans riddled with tears and nods, before he turns and begins to exit my studio, leaving me with a whirling mind and a headache the size of North U.

I’m rubbing my head when Munro stops suddenly and turns, still smiling that sweet smile I’ve only seen on him today. It turns a little sheepish and shy when he speaks, leaving me gaping at him like I’ve just encountered a stranger and not the guy I’ve been plotting the demise of. “You look beautiful today, by the way. You always look beautiful, but you look good dressed down and comfy.”

And with that, he disappears, leaving me to stew with my tremulous thoughts and chaotic energy, feelings, and emotions.

Chapter 20

Silver

I’m still confused and conflicted by the time the charity benefit rolls around, lost to my thoughts while I make myself presentable for a fancy bash for my Meemaw.

Sitting in my closet, the same one that still smells of the wild mint and rhubarb I’ve come to associate with my twin alphas, I apply my makeup while I continue to think about all that Munro told me. My eyeliner goes on with a smooth swipe, followed by mascara that darkens my eyelashes. I add a faint brush of blush on my cheeks and a swipe of a nude lip stain on my lips before deciding that my face looks suitable for a fancy charity ball.

As soon as I’ve put all of my makeup back in its rightful place, I check my cell once more, wondering not for the first time where all of pack Larsen have disappeared to.

Ever since the twins snuck out on me this morning, cautiously extracting themselves from me in order to tip-toe out of my nest while I watched with one bleary eye open, I haven’t heard a single peep from any of them. Even Aero has been as silent as the dead, and it has me both worried and a little bit anxious. Not that I should feel that way, since I told them all weeks ago that I’d be attending the benefit alone. I haven’t mentioned it to them since the day Munro made me cry, opting to tough out this shit-show alone. I don’t want to make things weird with the pack now that there’s something between us. Things are already weird and tense between Munro and me, I’ve barely seen Pace since the day in the library, and I have something too good with Aero, Haze, and Rage to inflict a night of hell on them.

Because that is what tonight will be, despite the event and its meaning. My mother could host an hour meet and greet with the purest-souled celebrities in the world, and it would still feel like I stepped into the Devil’s lair. Anywhere my mother and fathers are often turns into a hellish landscape of which there is no escape.

But it’s one night. One night to celebrate Meemaw and her accomplishments, to support all she’s doing for omegas, and showing her just how proud I am of her. It’s the least I can do after all she’s done for me. I want to repay the favor, show that woman how much she means to me. I mean, I can deal with one night for Meemaw, right? It’s nothing I haven’t handled before. I can tell all the packs my mother will try and flaunt in front of me that I’m gay or something. That’ll piss my mother off something fierce. Maybe tell them I’ve joined a hippie commune where we prefer to live out our lives in the nude, sitting around campfires eating leaves and mushrooms and smoking pot. That might get a few rumors spreading, and the image of my mother’s face turning tomato red has a funny, little smile appearing on my stained lips.

Yeah, I can do this. For Meemaw, and for me. I’m not going to let that bitch have any kind of power over me. I ran away to live my own life, so that’s what I’m going to be, no matter the shit she tries to pull tonight. I just have to get through a few hours and then I’ll be free of her once more. I’m not there to please them, not there to obey like the good, little omega they wanted me to be.

I’m my own person now. I’m an independent omega who makes her own money, doesn’t have to rely on their wealth and influence, and I certainly don’t have to deal with their shit anymore. They can’t touch me, even if they think otherwise.

Nodding to my reflection in the full-length mirror I’m sitting in front of, my makeup bag open on the floor in front of me, I take a deep breath and shake out the anxiety that’s been building since I woke up alone this morning.

I check my phone again, seeing no missed calls or texts, and frown. “Where the hell are you?”

I’m not sure why it’s bothering me so much that pack Larsen seem to have vanished into thin air, no sign or signal letting me know where they’ve disappeared to. It’s not like they owe me anything. They’re free to do as they please, especially since they’re no longer obligated to come to this nightmare with me. I guess it’s just my nerves or something. I’ve grown very spoilt over the past couple of weeks. I’m used to having the guys with me now, watching movies in our spare time, having them in the studio while I worked, eating dinner together every night. Despite Munro’s shocking delivery of words, even he’s joined us at every dinner, keeping his brooding silence while he awaits my answer. It almost feels like I’m a part of their pack, their family.

They always seem to be there now, so now that they’re not… I don’t know, it’s weird. It’s putting me more on edge than seeing my mother again is. I’m on pins, and I’m overthinking, especially with the sneaky way Haze and Rage left this morning, leaving me sated in bed with their scents coating every inch of my body.

Shaking my head, I take a cleansing sigh and shove it all out of my head. One night without them isn’t going to kill me. In fact, it might do me some good, because Aero isn’t the only one who grows attached quickly. I fear that ship has already sailed for me. I think it might have sailed pretty early on, only I refused to acknowledge or accept it. It’s hard not to do that when I’m being fucked to within an inch of my life every night, followed by so much pampering and caretaking that I know I’m falling for pack Larsen.

I wasn’t expecting it, but the first time Rage carried me into the shower while we were still joined, bathed me and made sure I was okay before drying me off and snuggling me between him and his brother, was an eye opener. When Aero brings me breakfast and plays with my hair while we talk in hushed tones in the mornings tattooed feelings to my heart. Haze’s constant checking in on me, like I truly am his omega and he’s my alpha, an ingrained piece of his psyche treating me like I’m his to care for, has been giving me a headrush for days, because I’m seeing just how caring and affectionate these men are. Even though he hasn’t been around much lately, Pace’s intense stares sear through me with every look, every twitch of his lip only I seem to get screwing with my head.

And now Munro has thrown his chips onto the table, I can see a change in him. He’s still grumpy and suffers with a serious case of shithead disease, but there’s less bite to it now. I catch him watching me with a softness he never displayed before. He jokes with Aero and smiles at me when he catches me watching. It’s disarming, sure, but it’s also warming something in my chest that I’m not ready to acknowledge.

They’re acting like a pack, my pack, and I’m struggling to accept that these are the same men who started off ignoring me, acting indifferent toward me, or actively tried to hate me.

Mind reeling all over again, I step toward the dress I bought the day Juno tried to kill me with a shopping spree, unzipping it and smiling. Where the little black dress my best friend picked out for me was nice, it didn’t suit me in the slightest. This dress, though? This dress is me.

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