Page 35 of Coco and the Misfits

“Fuck, I’d never say anything like that.”

“But you thought it.”

“No, dammit. Don’t put words in my mouth. I only meant, be careful. Every alpha in town wants a bite out of you, or didn’t you notice?”

What is he talking about? I’m the one alpha-hunting, not the other way around. But I’m already bolting out of the gym and through the streets, and what the hell is wrong with me?

12

ZACH

I wander through the gym in a funk, and not only because Coco turned me down. I mean, she’s a goddess. Why would she wanna go out with an idiot like me?

No, it’s the other thing she almost said that got me, and now I’m so worried I can barely fucking breathe.

A familiar feminine silhouette catches my attention and I run after her. “Gigi, wait.”

“Hey, Zach. What’s up?”

“Are you in a hurry? Got a minute?”

“Sure.” She smiles. “What’s up?”

It’s weird to think of her as my stepmom. She’s barely older than me. Since she joined my dad’s pack—or should I say, since she became the reason for a pack to form with Dad at its head, making him happier than I’ve ever seen him—I’ve struggled with my relationship to her.

Most days, I don’t think about it. But now she’s looking at me like a concerned mother and I don’t know if I should talk to her as I would to a friend or an elder.

“Zach,” she prompts. “What is it?”

“It’s Coco,” I blurt out. I had meant to lead with small talk, but that’s what came out of my mouth. “Something’s wrong, and she won’t tell me what it is.”

Her smile falls. “I can’t tell you if she won’t.”

“Oh, come on, Gigi.” All my earlier thoughts of respect for elders fly out the window. “How am I to protect her if you won’t tell me what happened? Something went down that night at the bar, didn’t it?”

“Protect her. I see…” She gives me a narrow, pensive look. It feels as if she’s staring right into the depths of my soul. Not even my own mom has ever given me such a piercing look. “You want to protect her, do you?”

“Yeah! Why is that so weird?”

“Because you care for her.”

“I…” I blink. Is she fishing for information on how I’m feeling about Coco? How am I feeling? “Just tell me.”

“Zach!” The receptionist, a new omega girl whose name I didn’t catch, waves at me. “You’re late for your class. Everyone is waiting for you.”

“Fuck. Gigi?—”

“Ask her,” she says. “Ask Coco to tell you.”

“I have!”

“Then she will tell you in her own time.”

What’s with the ominous words? How am I supposed to wait when she may be traumatized in some way? How will I sleep tonight?

I could call. Beg for her to tell me. Knock on her door like a stalker and a weirdo.

Or… someone else may know. Someone who took her home that night.

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