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“Fuck,” I curse, as I shove my hand into my pocket to fish out my keys.
Cheryl appears at my side and takes the keys from me when I realize it’s going to be a pain in the ass to hold the handle with my broken hand while I turn the key in the lock with my good hand.
She doesn’t say anything. She just lets us into the house.
Noah follows us inside, with Cheryl’s blonde friend close behind.
Oscar seems reluctant to come inside. He stares up at the house from the yard as if he’s trying to commit it to memory. My chest tightens watching him.
We can’t lose him.
There’s no way in hell I’m going to let another pack steal him away. He’s meant to be here, with all of us. He was the first to meet Cheryl, and he fucking knew from the first glance that she was ours and he never gave up trying to convince me even when I was being the biggest asshole on the fucking planet.
I can’t give up on him.
He never once gave up on me.
I go to the door. “Oscar, get in the house.”
It comes out like a barked order. He gives me a blank look before he follows it.
He comes inside and stands around in the hall, his expression slack.
Cheryl closes the door and locks it. She lets out a weary sigh as she hands me back my keys.
“We can talk things out in the lounge,” she says, taking charge again.
She’s had to do that so damn much lately. I’m not looking after my pack like I should be.
I know our pack is different from most, with Cheryl being an Alpha too, but we should be sharing the load. I shouldn’t be letting her carry it every step of the way.
She moves toward the lounge, Noah and Rachel following her.
Oscar takes a slow gaze around the hall. “The lounge?” he asks.
“It’s been cleaned up,” I tell him, wondering if it’s smart to bring him into the place that probably encouraged us to ignore his problems until it was too late.
“It’s better than the living room,” he admits, starting to sound more like himself. “I don’t like the fabric couch you’ve got in there.”
“I didn’t pick that,” I remind him. “That was that interior designer we hired.”
“Oh, yeah, right. The ditzy brunette who thought Irish Coffee meant made in Ireland.”
“I forgot that part,” I say, smiling in spite of myself.
“I don’t know how you could. That woman was a day drunk and she had no freaking idea.”
I let out a snort. It was pretty funny.
We step into the lounge to find the leather sofas have been rearranged into a circle. Vi and Ivy are sitting on one of them, Rachel and Amanda on another. Cheryl and Noah sit down together, leaving the last seats for us. I close the door and go over to the window while Oscar makes himself comfortable.
“Are they gone?” Cheryl asks, apparently realizing what I’m checking for.
“They’re out front, headed for the gate.” I’ll feel better when they’ve left the property.
Of course, I’d feel even better if I’d ripped out that smug prick of an Alpha’s throat, but I’m really not on the market to become the leader of a pack of assholes who thought they could hang around here until they found an opportunity to exploit. I need to remember that.
Actions have consequences.
