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Dare steps up next to me and opens the oven, then lets out a long, low whistle. “Mm. Those are some sexy biscuits, man. From scratch?”
“Shut the fuck up,” I say, but I laugh anyway.
Sable has just filled up her own mug of coffee, and she stops on her way to the table to rise on her tiptoes and kiss my cheek. “I think you did a fabulous job. Props to the chef.”
“I had help.” I swoop in and steal a kiss from her lips before she can cart her coffee away to the table.
Archer opens the cabinet to grab a mug for himself, then catches my eye. “Honestly, I thought you got lost on the way to the bathroom.”
“Lucky for you assholes, I have a bad sense of direction,” I joke.
I know it’s all in jest, and I do my best to play along, but the truth is, everyone in the damn room knows I’m not okay. Shifters don’t miss a lot, so I know they can see the tension in my tightly wound muscles and sense the unease within me. At least they seem to know my issues have nothing to do with them.
But even their jokes can’t shake the heavy weight lying across my shoulders. No matter how slowly we eat breakfast, and no matter how much time I manage to kill cleaning up afterward, it will only delay the inevitable. Sable and I are going to go see my dad, and that idea grates on me like a knife scraping down my spine. It’s all I can think about—coming face to face with the fucker, having to have a legitimate conversation with him.
I don’t know why she suggested it. My first thought was that she thought maybe I should pass the pack back off to him, letting him take over as leader again. God help me, for a minute, I even considered it. A life with Sable and the rest of the guys where I don’t have to lead, don’t have to worry about two hundred other people whose fates rest in my hands? The thought lifts half the burden weighing me down.
But I’d never fucking do that, and I know Sable well enough to know that isn’t what she was insinuating. She’s got a reason. My mate doesn’t do fuck-all without a reason. But what the hell it is remains to be seen.
Plus, she got to meet Archer’s dad, so the least I can do is let her meet mine. Even if he is a piece of shit.
After breakfast, I’m all set to wash every dish by hand using a God damned toothbrush if it will delay us a few moments, but Dare takes the rag right out of my hands and shoves me away from the sink.
“No way. You cook, we clean. Get out of here.”
“Since when do you have manners?” I quip.
“Since I had to be around your lazy ass,” he replies without missing a beat, then sinks his hands in the hot, soapy water.
So it’s not like I have any choice but to wash up, change clothes, and follow Sable out the door.
Damn, I’m not looking forward to this. The sum total of my interactions with my dad since the day I challenged him and won couldn’t even take up all the fingers on one hand. I never let it bother me much. We didn’t have the greatest father-son relationship to begin with, which was why Malcolm and Archer’s relationship always seemed so alien to me. The silence was worth it. Has been worth it.
I can’t believe I’ve agreed to break it.
It comes as no great surprise to me that my dad’s managed to get himself a nice little shack on the outskirts of the village. The man is charm itself when he thinks it can get him what he wants. By the shack’s closeness to a small cabin, and the extension cord running power from the cabin to the one open window, I’m guessing he managed to convince the family that he deserved to sleep in their shed.
Sable raises an eyebrow at the tiny place. “Everyone in the village is crammed together like sardines or living out of leaky tents, but your dad got his own little house.”
“Being an arrogant ass can get you places,” I say. “Though it doesn’t win
you friends.”
Tiny or not, it affords him privacy, and that’s a hot commodity in the village right now. A sneer tilts the corner of my lips up, and I brace myself for what comes next.
I almost let Sable knock on the door because I’m a fucking pussy, but at the last minute, my hand darts out and bangs against the uneven wood with a lot more force than necessary.
My heart’s doing some kind of wild dance, like it’s trying to run away. Too fucking late for that now.
The door opens.
My father appears, his shaggy brown hair shoved away from his face with a bandana. He looks like he always does—a smug smile on his face, a look of disdain like he thinks he’s better than everyone. But he’s shorter than me, and thinner. And if I’m being really fucking petty, my dick’s probably a lot bigger too.
He spares a glance for Sable, raking her with his dark brown eyes in a way that makes me want to claw them out of his head, before he finally looks at me. “Trystan.”
“Cooper,” I reply in a dead, disinterested voice.
“Surprised to see you darkening my doorstep.”
