Page 22 of Alpha Wolf's Arranged Bride
Even though I’m full of self-inflicted misery and glimmers of jealous anger, I manage to calm myself down enough to rest. I sleep very lightly, jolting awake every time Scarlett moves. By the time dawn comes, I give up and get out of bed.
After I get dressed, I’m drawn outside to Mom’s garden. I walk through the overgrown paths, wondering what the hell I’m doing out here, until I come to the bed of violets.
Scarlett’s favorites!
I pick a few, being careful not to disturb any spider webs. When I have a small posy of them, I take the flowers inside and set them up in a nice vase.
My thoughtful deed has given me courage, so I decide to run on with my good intentions and make breakfast. I know Scarlett loves pancakes, but I have no idea what Jarrod likes, so I just start frying up eggs, bacon, and sausage, hoping I’m on point.
I’m halfway between poorly flipping a pancake and burning the bacon when someone comes into the kitchen behind me. I’m at such a critical moment, I can’t turn around. I just manage to get the pancake to safety and turn down the heat on the bacon before disaster strikes.
I turn around to see Scarlett pouring herself some coffee, watching me. I might be imagining it, but I could swear the edges of her mouth are twitching with the hint of a smile.
“Are you okay?” she asks. “It looks like that bacon was getting the better of you.”
“Oh, the bacon was pretty well-behaved,” I answer. “It was the pancake-making trouble.”
“Good to see you got the situation in hand.”
“It wasn’t easy,” I say, holding up my spatula. “But I showed that pancake who’s boss!”
“I think you’re burning the eggs,” Scarlett says wryly, turning to walk away.
I spin around, turning off the burner and lifting the pan off the heat. The eggs aren’t quite burned, but they were about to be.
I look over at the dining table. Scarlett is sitting in front of the violets, looking at them thoughtfully. She glances over at me, and I wait for her to acknowledge my gift.
Her eyes sweep quickly over my face, then she turns away again. Disappointment thuds into my guts, and I hold back the urge to say something.
If I say, “Hey, I got those because I know they’re your favorites,” then I look desperate, or like I’m pandering.
Who am I kidding? Iampandering!
Keeping my mouth shut, I pile up a stack of pancakes and bring them to the table with butter and syrup. Scarlett thanks me but keeps her eyes down.
That little exchange we had when she first came in really gave me some hope…
I go back to the kitchen to plate up the bacon and eggs, trying to manage my emotions. I should be doing something nice for her simply to make her feel good, and I shouldn’t expect anything in return.
Still, I’m not used to being completely ignored and shut down. She could at least acknowledge that I’m trying.
“What smells so good?” Jarrod asks, coming into the kitchen.
“Hey, kiddo! Bacon, eggs, and sausage. I hope you’re hungry!”
“I am. Thanks, Dad—”
My heart leaps into my throat at the exact same moment Scarlett drops her coffee cup on the floor. It shatters spectacularly, splattering coffee across a nearby wall.
“I’m sorry,” Jarrod says, looking between us with confusion. “I wasn’t sure what to call you. But you are my dad now, aren’t you?”
I look into the kid’s eyes, and I feel such a powerful wave of emotion, I can’t even describe it.
He makes me feel complete. As if all I’ve ever wanted was someone to teach and raise. He filled a gap inside me I didn’t even know was there.
“I don’t know, Jarrod,” Scarlett says. “That might be too much—”
“No, it’s fine,” I say quickly, giving Jarrod a rub on the shoulder. “You can call me Dad. I don’t mind.”
