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The man shrugged. “Sorry. Thatcher took most of our first batches this morning.”
She stared blankly for a moment.
“He’s having a morning meeting.”
Dread crept over her. Shoot.
Rudely, she abandoned the cashier and flew out the door. She had to get home.
In the center of town stood an old clock tower. She glanced toward it and breathed a little easier. There was still time. Stopping quickly at the deli, she grabbed two breakfast wraps. After shoving one into her bag, she sprinted the rest of the way home.
The flowers lining the interlocking pathway bent and swayed as she ran up to the door. Keeping her backpack on, she eased her shoes off at the front door, carefully putting them on the tray before peering into the living room.
Her dad was there, passed out on the couch.
He was pack beta, and if he didn’t make it to the meeting on time, he’d be furious.
At fifty-two years old, should he be his own keeper? Set his own alarms? Know his own schedule?
Yes.
Was he going to? No.
And she would pay the price.
Bracing herself, she sank to her knees on the carpet next to him, and gently touched his shoulder. “Dad?”
He didn’t move.
“Dad?”
A snore was her only answer.
She shook a little harder. “Daddy?”
One blood-shot eye opened.
Groaning, he lifted his head off the couch, glared at her, and rolled toward the back of the sofa, waving her away.
“Come on, Dad. It’s time to get up.”
“Fuck off.”
Taking a calming breath, she steadied herself. “You’re going to be late for the meeting.”
God, she hoped there really was a meeting.
“It’s Sunday,” he growled. A second later, he sat bolt upright. “Isn’t it? Isn’t it?”
She scrambled backward. “No, it’s Monday. He’s having a meeting this morning, isn’t he?”
He squinted and scratched at his groin. “Fuck, he is. What time is it?” His head swung back and forth, looking for a clock.
“Twenty to eight,” she said with a wince. It was enough time for him to get to the lodge, but not enough time to battle the hangover, or even have a shower.
“Eight o’clock! Why didn’t you fucking wake me?”
Because you’re a fully grown adult, she bit back the response. A comment like that would have her wearing cover-up for sure. Not bothering to explain, she partially unwrapped the egg and sausage burrito and passed it toward him. “I grabbed you breakfast, though.”
