Page 13 of Lavender and Lightning

“Aren’t you going to tell me not to go?” I rasp.

“Do you want me to?” she replies, almost in a monotone.

Shaking my head, I finally get my feet to respond. I round the island and follow behind as she leads the way out into the garage. Then I slide into the passenger’s side of her silver sedan, buckling my seatbelt with some difficulty. Alexandra doesn’t comment, simply checking her lipstick in the rearview mirror as I finally get the buckle to lock. I wrap my hand around the coffee cup, my knuckles white as Alexandra starts the car and backs out smoothly.

“A little bird told me what happened last night before I got home. Rhett and Mateo may have their opinions on what you should and shouldn’t be doing. How you handle them is up to you. But if they are making you feel like you can’t say no, I have no qualms about setting the record straight for you.”

Alexandra’s voice is low in the car's silence as she maneuvers through the winding streets of the development. I study her profile for a moment, unable to stop myself from admiring the smooth slope of her throat, the elegant swoop of her nose, the fullness of her lips. My mouth goes a little bit dry, and I take a large sip of my coffee, shaking myself before I get too distracted, and shrug with my good shoulder.

“They mean well,” I reply neutrally.

“There’s an old saying about paths and good intentions. But that’s not what I meant, and I think you know that,” she says coolly, looking over at me with a knowing glint in her eyes as we wait for the gate to open.

“They’re not forcing me to do anything, Alexandra. I agreed to move out, and…”

“And you agreed to not go to work today, too,” she finishes.

I let out a long exhale, turning to look out of the window. Alexandra drives like a professional, all smooth turns and controlled stops and starts. I want to avoid the question, but the longer the silence stretches, the more I realize that she won’t let me.

“I mean, I didn’t technically say I wouldn’t go. I just stopped fighting with Rhett about it,” I tell her cautiously, trying for humor in my tone but failing.

“I know you’re smart enough to see how sneaking out of the house while everyone is asleep isn’t a great plan,” Alexandra returns, and I flush.

Taking another drink of my coffee, I try to think of a response. Hindsight, being what it is, I know that today probably won’t end well. But after spending so much time clawing my way out of the pit of fear and paranoia I’d been in after leaving Darren, letting another sociopath like Seth control my life like this makes my skin crawl. And I can’t live on Pack St. Clair’s good will forever. Joining a pack means contributing to its success. I can’t do that if I’m cowering in my room day in and day out.

“I need to do this. I just… I need the normal again. Just to pretend like the world isn’t going to shit around me,” I whisper after a heavy pause.

“If getting back to normal is going to get you hurt, is that worth it?” she asks, not much louder.

I stay quiet, not wanting to speak the truth on the tip of my tongue and start another fight. “Has your landlord been in touch?” she asks, redirecting when I don’t respond.

Sighing, I slump back into my seat. After my initial panic faded, I acknowledged moving into the pack house sooner rather than later is the smart move. And speaking with my landlord had been the last nail in the coffin. The exchange was professional, but his relief was obvious even across the phone line when I said I’d be moving out. I’d picked that apartment based largely on its no-alpha-tenant policy, and while no one had filed a formal complaint, having Rhett and Mateo around a lot was definitely stretching the rules to the limit.

“He’s not going to charge me for the damage to the door,” I start.

“I would hope not,” Alexandra snorts.

I huff out a quick chuckle. “But he’s got the paperwork all ready for me to sign, along with the exact early termination fee.”

I’d received that email yesterday, and it still makes me sick to think of how much money the pack would be paying.

“I know that this isn’t ideal, but we don’t mind helping you,” Alexandra says kindly.

I sigh, but don’t answer. I’d make her accept my repayment check one way or another. But that’s a battle for future Lydia to fight. Best not to waste energy on it at this juncture.

“Your independence is so refreshing. Seth… he wasn’t like you. He saw my name, what my friends and I were doing, and wanted in. Did Rhett or Mateo tell you we didn’t form the pack until after the incident?”

When I turn to look at Alexandra, the distant tone of her words softens my anger. I shake my head, and she smiles ironically to herself.

“I know we’ve talked about it with Ted, but I’m not sure if it really sunk in. When you join our pack, you’re going to have access to all our assets, even the intangible ones. The St. Clair name carries weight, and having it will open doors you didn’t even know existed,” she continues, not looking at me.

I swallow and look out of the windshield at the buildings, the windows glittering with the rising sun. Ted Calhoun, the lawyer for Pack St. Clair, tried to explain all the benefits of joining this pack, but I mostly tuned them out. I don’t want or need their money or their status. I open my mouth to tell her that, but stop short as I think more about what she’s not saying.

“Seth wasn’t an influencer when he met you. He was a bartender,” I say distantly.

“He was aspiring. A few appearances in the gossip magazines alongside Mateo helped to grow his following,” Alexandra replies.

“Does the bond not give him access to your assets?” I ask, confused.

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