Page 20 of Heat Island
The memory of Egret pretending not to know me is still fresh and painful. “I’m sure they are.”
She pats my hand. “Maybe they have friends. Wouldn’t it be wonderful if you both had packs? You’re not getting any younger, you know.”
I force a smile. “Let’s just focus on Josie’s wedding for now. I’m sure we’ll get to mine, eventually.”
She makes a disbelieving sound in her throat, but thankfully doesn’t say anything else.
We enter the dining room, and the scene that greets me makes my chest ache with a complicated mix of emotions. Our family’s pack alpha and Josie’s father, Hans, stands at the head of the table, carving a roast. She got her golden blonde hair and sapphire eyes from him, even if all her other features are from our mother. My brothers, Miles and Theo, are setting the table, arguing about something only two boys still in elementary school would care about. Their fathers, Adrian and Finn, are deep in a discussion on the opposite side of the table, likely about a patient or interesting case since they’re both surgeons at the community hospital.
And just like that, I remember why family dinners always produce a mix of love and heartache in me. A small part of me would love to come home to my own version of this, a pack of my own and maybe even a few kids.
This is what I’ve been missing in my elegant downtown apartment with its pristine countertops and silent rooms. The chaos, the noise, the sense of belonging.
If only I wouldn’t have to give up everything else I love in my life to get it.
“Trinie Trin Trin!” Josie jumps up from her seat, rushing over to hug me. “You made it!”
Taking a page from our mother’s playbook, Josie always greets family like we just came back from the war, even if I only just saw her a few hours ago.
Over her shoulder, I finally force my gaze to the centerof the table. I hoped if I just ignored the elephants in the room for long enough then they might go away.
No such luck.
There they are—all three of them—lounging at our family table like they belong there. The traitorous omega in me reacts before my logical brain can intervene, registering how unfairly good they still look. Egret’s platinum blond hair contrasts with his sharp blue eyes, a combination that once made my heart race. Brendin’s broad shoulders and the tattoos peeking from beneath his rolled-up sleeves remind me of nights tracing those designs with my fingertips. And Saren, with his perpetual five o’clock shadow and those dark eyes that seem to absorb all the light in the room—damn him for still being so magnetic.
If only they had ever offered me something more than good looks.
I take my seat, anger simmering beneath my practiced smile. Their polished exteriors hide the truth I know too well: beneath those perfect facades lie egos the size of continents and the emotional depth of rain puddles.
“Trinity,” Brendin nods, his voice neutral. “Nice to finally meet Josie’s sister.”
Finally meet? I dig my nails into my palm under the table.
“Yes, finally,” I echo, voice honeyed with false pleasantness.
Josie beams between them, radiant with happiness. My chest tightens watching Saren adjust her napkin, his fingers lingering on hers. Egret whispers something in her ear that makes her giggle. Despite everything, they seem genuinely attentive, their eyes following her movements with what appears to be authentic adoration.
“Egret was just telling us about their investmentfirm,” Hans says, passing the potatoes. “Impressive portfolio for alphas so young.”
“Very impressive,” I agree, taking a sip of wine. “Though how much older than Josie are you all? Fifteen years? Twenty?”
Egret clears his throat. “Not quite.”
“All of you are MBAs, right? Which college did you attend again?” Finn asks.
“Westridge University,” Egret answers smoothly. “We all studied business and finance.”
“That’s where Trinity went,” Mom exclaims. “What a coincidence!”
Saren’s fork pauses halfway to his mouth, jaw twitching. “Is that so?”
“Class of 2018,” I say, watching their faces for any crack in their performance. “You must have started business school the same year I got there for undergrad. Strange our paths never crossed.”
Brendin reaches for the bottle of wine. “Big campus.”
“Not that big,” I counter. “Especially in the business department. Practically all of my economics classes were in Hartwell Hall. I basically lived there sophomore year.”
Egret taps his fork on his plate, fingers clenched around the metal. “I thought Josie mentioned that you studied communication, or something.”
