Page 109 of Patiently Yours
He’s giving me a full-on smirk as he makes his way to us. “I didn’t have time to change. Do you have a spare outfit on you?”
Atlas shakes his head with a laugh. “We’re just glad you’re here in general, so thank you. Did your mock trial go okay?”
My eyes widen. “Oh shit, that was today! How did it go?”
He gives an appreciative smile before shrugging his shoulders. “It went well. I didn’t realize performance anxiety was a thing for lawyers. It is.”
“Of course there is! There’s anxiety on the ice, in a courtroom, on the stage, in thebedroom…”
“Okay, Ciro. We get it,” Uriah tries to say grumpily, but his warm smile betrays him.
I turn back to Sam. His scent is muted by an emotion that I can’t decipher. “Is everything okay, man?” I try to ask discreetly, but the others hear me anyway.
Sam looks at each of us, like he’s trying to determine how much to say. “I didn’t want to bring this up today because it’s supposed to beyourday but… I met my omega.”
“Holy shit!” My worry instantly turns to joy as I think about what this means for our friend. Meeting Stacia was the turning point for us, both individually and as a pack. Reflecting back, there were all sorts of emotions, but the good ones outweighed the bad by a longshot, and it all worked out better than we could have dreamed.
He deserves that same love and care from someone. It’s the best feeling in the world.
Atlas slaps him on the back. “That’s incredible, Sam! When did this happen?”
“A few days ago. We met in the quad. We just walked by each other and… his scent was unmistakable. I knew he wasmine.” He’s trying to school his alpha giddiness, but it’s beaming out with pride.
“We’re so happy for you, man.” Uriah surprisingly gives Sam the first congratulatory hug, and we all look at him with surprise, including our president.
“Sorry about that Sam,” Ciro starts, “finding our mate has turned Uriah into a total softie.”
The laugh that escapes me only amplifies as Uriah sends him a death glare. Ciro continues, completely ignoring him, “So, I guess we’ll be helping you move out soon, too, huh?”
“I hope so, but I’ve got to find a place first and then there’s Thatcher?—”
There’s a sudden disturbance as we watch another car abruptly pull up and stop in front of the house. I look closer and see that it’s a Porsche.
A fuckingPorsche.
The couple that steps out look at us with disdain. The man looks cold, his hand on his wife’s back robotic and on autopilot. The woman is sneering behind her Gucci sunglasses, some ridiculously expensive handbag hanging from her forearm.
Don’t they know we’re in Massachusetts, not upstate New York?
“Excuse me,” I hear Atlas say as the pair gets closer. “Who are you?”
They scoff inrich person, like they are above us and don’t have to answer basic questions.
“We’re here to see ourdaughter,” the man says as the woman exclaims, “Who areyou?!”
There’s an immediate tension that spreads between us. I can suddenly see the resemblance. The same freckles across the woman’s nose. The same blue eyes and brown hair. These aren’t random pretentious people, these are very specific ones that we’ve only heard about through horror stories.
Horror stories involving our omega.
“Where is Stacia?” They ask with annoyance just as she comes through the front door in a panic.
I already don’t like the way she feels the need to mediate this situation.
She comes to a stop in front of us and tries to smooth out her anxiety before speaking, but her scent still has a twinge of it. “Mother… Father.” She nods at them, angling herself between us and them. “What are you doing here?”
Her mother gives a mean-looking scowl. “Why are we ever here, Stacia? Because you don’t answer your phone to tell us howyou are and what you’re doing. Obviously it’s a good thing we’re here. Who are all these men?”
A.K.A: Who are all thesealphasin your front yard?
