Page 14 of Alpha Daddy

Somehow, even though I’m not sure how the hell I manage it, I’m able to sleep until early the next morning. I was gifted over twelve hours of uninterrupted sleep with blissful dreams about a silver fox who’s soon to be my boss.

Lovely.

Just what I need, another reason to be nervous about my interview today.

The sun is just beginning to creep from between the tall buildings around me, lighting up the jet-black sky a little at a time. With several hours to kill, I head to my usual truck stop bathroom, which has become way too familiar at this point, to change and get ready for my interview.

The gas station worker, a pretty beta girl with blonde hair and big hoop earrings, smiles at me as I step inside. I’m sure she recognizes me–she has to–because she’s been here the last five times I’ve come in.

Part of me wonders what she thinks about my frequent visits, but dwelling on them only stirs up whispers of shame and guilt I’ve worked hard to bury over the last few weeks. I can’t change anything about my situation yet, so worrying about it isn’t going to help anything. It’ll just add more stress, which I’ve had enough of to last a lifetime.

I soak in a long, hot shower, savoring every second, considering I’m not sure how many more I’ll be able to take before my money runs out.

If I wind up being dreadful at this restaurant gig, I’ll be broke before I can form another plan, and I won’t even be able to pay the fee to shower here, let alone eat. The threat is there, lurking in the back of my thoughts like a raincloud waiting to storm all over the bit of hope I’ve built up. I try to ignore it–that’s not an outcome I should think about.

Iwillland this job, and Iwillbe decent at it.

It’s the least I can hope for at this point, and the more times I say it to myself, the more I begin to believe it. I’ll start to rebuild my life but into something new and exciting.

I can’t accept failure.

Not when it’s my life on the line.

I dress in front of the familiar mirror, scrunching my hair with mousse to let it fall in loose curls around my face. I put on a pair of navy pants and a bright, floral top, which are much more my style than the harsh suit I wore yesterday. Now when I look in the mirror, I almost recognize myself.

My eyes play off the blues and greens in my shirt, making them brighter, and I paint my lips pale pink. I couldn't be farther from the two sexy beta women I saw at the restaurant yesterday, but I feel pretty. I feel like Jessa, and that’s saying something, considering I lost her for a long time.

She’s finding her way back, slowly, a bit at a time.

I eat a muffin from the gas station as I head back to my car, not because it looks appetizing, but because it’s one of the cheapest things I can find. I should probably find something to do to pass the time, considering I have a while before my interview, but when you have no money and nowhere to go, the options are harshly limited.

Mind-numbing solitude consumes most of my time, with nothing to do and no one to talk to.

I hate that it’s come to this, because it wasn’t always this way.

Once upon a time, I had friends–lots of them. Before I awakened, I was one of the most popular girls in my grade at school. So many people vied for my attention, though I wasn’t sure why. When I received my omega designation, it all made sense, and suddenly, there were even more people around me.

It was nice but brief, because not long after, the Sorenson pack found me.

My throat tightens at the name.

Over the last five years, I became isolated from everyone butthem. My old alphas saw to that. They didn’t like how much time or attention I gave my friends, even though they were all beta women who pined over them, so I cut everyone out one by one.

The last to go was my best friend, Deysi.

That hurt the most.

We’d been close ever since we were babies and lived next door to one another growing up. She never treated me differently after I found out I was an omega. She never once held it against me. She just wanted to spend time with the Jessa who made her laugh so hard she cried, who had belching contests with her at two o’clock in the morning during sleepovers.Those were the best of times.

I’ve thought about texting her since moving out. I want to let her know I’m not with those assholes anymore and see if she wants to hang out, but the pain is almost too much to bear.

What would she say?

Would she tell me she doesn’t want to be friends anymore?

Would she be angry I abandoned her so easily over some hot alphas, even though she knew they were my mates and I had to do whatever they said?

The unknowns are too daunting, so I haven’t let myself text her.

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