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I don’t even know what to say to that. After what happened with Mr. Mosley, a pack is the last thing that’s on my mind.
Ms. Ogden blows out a shaky breath. “Anyway. I heard you coming and wanted to check on you, but I guess I should get back to packing.” She leaves me in the hallway.
Grabbing my phone, I keep it together long enough to get inside my apartment and lock the door. I numbly set my purse on the counter and collapse onto the couch, staring at the family picture hanging on my wall. Mom and my stepdads are all beaming. I’m standing between Dylan and Austin, who are both smiling. And Brady is glaring at me, or rather, the camera.
I haven’t seen any of the guys since last Christmas. My stomach flips at the thought of seeing them again, but that possibility is what keeps me from calling my mom and telling her about the eviction notice. She’d welcome me back home in a heartbeat. I don’t have to tell her about the internship, at least not until I find a solution. The guys all have their own lives, so it’s not like we’ll be living together. Going back home would only be temporary.
Is there really any other choice?
I have nowhere else to go. There is my bestie, Daria, but being scared to go home isn’t a good enough reason to put her out. She’s amazing, but she’s got three potential mates she’s been dating. Intruding on their budding romance would be a dick move. Maybe I can stay in a hotel. But that’s expensive, and I don’t have enough of my own money saved to make it more than a week.
With a heavy sigh, I turn my phone over in my hand and unlock it to call my mom. The ringing echoes inside my head, and I bite my nails as I wait for her to pick up. Part of me hopes she won’t, but the next ring cuts off.
“Hey, baby,” she says in the voice she reserves only for me. It’s enough to bring back the tears. “You know, it’s crazy, I was just getting ready to call you!”
“Oh?” I force myself to sound normal and grasp at the edge of the couch cushion with one hand and white knuckle my phone in the other. “What’s going on? Is everyone okay?”
She chuckles. “Everyone is fine, you worrywart. The guys bought us a summer excursion in Europe! Backpacking. Hot springs. Luxury nest rentals?—”
“I don’t need to hear about that,” I cut her off, pulling a face.
“Oh, fine. Anyway, that’s why I was calling you. Would you be available to house-sit for us while we’re away? I know it’s a bit out of the way for your job, but Lock said you can use any of the cars, even the new Mercedes.”
She’s trying to butter me up, but this is actually perfect. They’ll leave, and I can hunt for a new apartment, find a new internship, and make sure my degree is on track, all by the time they return. I don’t have to tell them anything until they get home, and I won’t be in their way, because they won’t even be home.
“Quinn? Are you there?”
I can practically see the worry wrinkling her brow. “Sorry, yes. Yes, I’ll do it. When do you leave?”
“Sunday.”
That’s six days from now. In six days, she’ll be going on the adventure of a lifetime, and I’ll be stuck, still trying to figure out how to pick up the pieces of my broken life.
After a pause, she adds, “I know it’s short notice, and if you want to say no, I can always ask Brady.”
And give him another reason to despise me? No thanks.
“Don’t worry about it, Mom. I’ll take care of the house while you’re gone.” I pull my knees up to my chest, burying my hopelessness deep inside of me until I can hardly feel it. “Tell me all about the trip.”
She squeals and launches into the story. Her happiness is enough to help me forget about my fucked-up situation for a little while. My stepdads are honestly the nicest alphas I’ve ever met, and they treat her like a princess.
Eventually, I hope to have a pack to take care of me.
My gaze strays to the picture on the wall again and I scowl, hating how three alphas who will never be mine can suddenly take over my every thought.
Five
BRADY
The defendant sits across the conference table from me, eyes pooling with moisture. I clench my fists under the table and lean forward, preparing for the killing strike.
“You knew what you were doing, didn’t you?” I narrow my eyes and stare the beta down.
“No.” Norma, Head of Quality at Pearson Automotive, shakes her head. “The calibration records?—”
“Didn’t even exist when you approved the parts for production.” I grab a folder from the stack beside me and toss it in her direction.
“What’s this?” Norma’s lawyer—a forty-something lawyer in an ill-fitting suit—grabs the file before Norma can and glares at me. “You didn’t send this over with discovery.”
