Page 7 of Perfect Alpha

But it scares me that she has more lines around her eyes than last time.

My parents visit New York City more often than I’m able to get home. But, of course, it doesn’t compare to me being in the same town and seeing them every day. Doubt at my decision to move away claws through me as regret floods my system.

“I’ve only been home for thirty seconds,” I remind her. She doesn’t usually start this spiel for at least an hour.

“I know. I just miss you. So much.”

Thanks, Mom.

I needed another layer of guilt to carry around my neck like an albatross.

Dad takes my bag and, despite my protests, wheels it outside for me. He’s in his late fifties, but he’s a barrel-chested, bear of a mountain man from strong Montana stock. He stays physically active with regular hiking, hunting, and fishing trips.

But his hair has more salt than pepper now, and that scares me, too.

“How are you? What’s new?” I ask, after settling in the backseat of their van. Nothing brings me back to my childhood more than being under my parents’ roof.

Mom chatters about the church events she’s planning and, despite having already heard these exact stories, I listen attentively. We talk on the phone every day, so I imagine little is legitimately new since yesterday.

But the cadence of her voice is soothing, and her vanilla scent reminds me of a time when life was simple and her hugs cured everything.

She’s a retired teacher, and besides being active in the church community, she volunteers at the school where she used to work, swims every week at the community center, and makes it a priority to keep both her body and mind busy.

My parents arefine.

They’re both living full lives, and they don’t need me at home.

“Have you guys seen Hannah a lot?” I ask, already knowing the answer.

“Every day,” Mom replies. “We watch Aidan as much as we can. Cade can’t always get home in time to take over. I still can’t believethat boyleft. He is certainly missing out on raising an amazing child and being a partner to an incredible woman.”

She’s so indignant that I have to hide a smile at her fierce protectiveness of my best friend, who is like another daughter to her.

That boyis what my parents have referred to Duncan Lloyd as ever since he ran off on Hannah when she got pregnant right before graduating college. Duncan wasn’t ready for a kid, and he begged Hannah to have an abortion.

He rationalized they could start a family after they had established their careers, gotten married, and bought a house. That’s the expected course of action in Small Town, Montana, and if they broke the rules, people would whisper about their families for years.

Hannah refused to terminate and, true to his word, Duncan abandoned his girlfriend and their new baby without ever looking back.

Before getting pregnant, Hannah had a paralegal job set up with a local lawyer. But caring for her dad and Aidan make it impossible for her to work during the day. Instead, she waits tables at one of the local bars and will start her dream job when Aidan goes to school.

“How does Hannah seem?” I ask.

My parents have brought up the idea of putting their dad in a care home and Aidan in daycare. Hannah and Cade both adamantly refuse despite how much easier it would make their lives. It’s admirable, but also stupid if you ask me.

“She’s stressed,” Dad replies. “Life is wearing on her, and that shouldn’t be the case when you’re so young.”

“I’m going to do whatever I can to help,” I reply.

Determination that Hannah is going to have an incredible week fills me. Maybe I’m not here every day, but I’ll make damn sure I pull my weight so everyone’s load is a little lighter when I am home.

We pull up in front of my parents’ redbrick house, complete with a white picket fence and wraparound porch that reminds me ofTo Kill a Mockingbird. An immediate sense of peace washes over me like cool rain on overheated skin.

This little house will always be my home.

Hannah and Aidan are waiting on the front porch, and I scream while launching myself out of the van before it’s fully stopped.

My best friend jumps into my arms, and she’s smaller than the last time I held her, like she’s lost weight that she didn’t need to lose. Pushing her out to arm’s length, I scrutinize every detail of her face.

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