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EIGHT
An hour later,Ford pulled into the driveway of my house. It wasn’t massive—though I had the money, I had no need of a mansion. The one I’d grown up in had always made me feel small and lonely. But it wasn’t a tiny house, either.
Ford whistled, looking at the place while Dax slipped out of the sports car. “Daaamn.”
A bit of pride made my lips curve upward a bit. I loved my house. It was one of the only ones that was completed in the up-and-coming neighborhood so far, and was styled like a farmhouse, with pretty white siding and big windows, and a nice lawn that I paid a cute little teenage werewolf guy to mow twice a week. I had thought Evan would love the yard—but when I’d built it, I had assumed he and Lizzy would be moving in there with me, indefinitely.
I was happy that she’d found her Prince Charming, but it had been a bit sad to move in to the new house alone. Though I was mostly over that, it did get lonely.
“It’s a nice place,” I agreed, grabbing the handle on the door beside me.
Dax was already pulling my door open before I could get it myself. His arm slid under mine, wrapping around my back. He eased me out of the car like I was much weaker than I actually was—though TBH I wasn’t very strong.
“Thanks,” he told Ford.
“No problem.” Ford unrolled the window and added, “We’ll have people run you meals every night until you’ve got shit figured out, and Lizzy, June, and Elliot are on their way to get your cars from the restaurant’s lot. They’ll leave them here, so expect a knock when they come by with the keys.”
Dax nodded.
“You don’t need to arrange meals,” I protested, since apparently Dax wasn’t going to.
“The pack looks out for each other,” Ford said, flashing me a small smile. “You two just focus on healing right now.”
“I’m not part of the pack.”
“You’re my mate; you’re pack.” Dax’s words left no room for argument.
I didn’t argue, but I didn’t agree, either.
They hadn’t accepted me before; why would I want them to accept me now?
Dax pretty much carried me to the door, and I typed the code into the handle.
“Eleven-thirty?” Dax asked, his voice curious.
“My birthday.” The door unlocked, and I pushed it open.
He lifted me up again, long enough to carry me into the house. “Where to?” His gaze scanned the farmhouse-style open floorplan, taking in the stylish furniture and color coordinated shit, as well as the fake plants that were probably the closest thing I’d ever have to a pet. I was allergic to cats, dogs, hamsters… every pet, pretty much, to the extent that I had to start getting allergy injections and taking medication after Evan was born, because he shifted so often.
Although if I did manage to transform into a werewolf, that might change. Hopefully. It would suck to be allergic to myself.
“My bedroom is that way.” I gestured to the right, where a set of double barn-style doors sat open, leaving my room visible. “Library is over there.” I gestured to the right of it, where another barn door sat open. “And all three spare bedrooms and bathrooms are that way.” I gestured off to my left, where the rooms were that Lizzy and Evan were supposed to sleep in.
“Damn.” Dax’s attention lingered on my TV. “How big is that thing?”
I shrugged. “Big. If I’m going to watch a movie or show, I want to experience it.”
He cracked a smile at that, before carrying me off toward my room.
“So I take it money isn’t a problem for you,” Dax remarked.
“No.” I didn’t elaborate.
Dax had been there with me through shit in the hospital, but I’d seen it a hundred times. Guy thinks I’m cute, guy learns about my inheritance, guy either gets uncomfortable with not being the “provider” or “top dog,” and ditches me. Or asks me to invest in his shitty business idea. Or gets all fake and starts putting on a show because he wants a piece—not of me, but of my money.
So no, I didn’t want to tell him anything about my money.
He already wasn’t interested in me; I didn’t need another strike against me in my damned soulmate’s book.
