His Second Chance

20 | his chores

Dad had lost his mate. Mom. He had lost Mom, and he was still standing. Admittedly, there were plenty of times I had to pick up his slack. There were many nights I would come home from preparing for Placements to find Dad passed out over his desk, his computer screen still flashing with a blank cursor.

The sound of Henry's video games would, without doubt, be heard rumbling from upstairs, shaking the ceiling from the intensity. Mom and Dad used to fervently deny Henry's attempts to swindle them into placing the game station in his bedroom. Mom thought it would rot his brain, and Dad didn't much like the sound since Henry's room was above Dad's office.

But things had changed—in the blink of an eye. And the rules and ways of life we had once clung to so tightly didn't seem to matter so much.

And so, more nights than I could count, I would shut the display to Dad's computer off, tidy up his papers, and then make my way to the kitchen where I'd make sure Henry had a nice lunch packed for the next day.

I had stepped up, but it was not like Dad was not there. He was mourning; we all were.

I didn't like to compare our grief. We all displayed and dealt with loss differently. But for Dad, there was not a day that went by—there still was not a day that went by—that anyone around Dad could not feel the depths of his loss.

If Alpha Wade was undergoing the same emotions, bearing the same effects, I couldn't blame him for his rough and calloused exterior.

But I didn't know if I could stomach going through that.

Not that he was asking me to. My mind was playing tricks, thinking of possible scenarios that did not exist. Alpha Wade, not long ago, thought I was an enemy of the pack. We had agreed, but that didn't mean the pain and suffering of losing his mate had dwindled.

Pathetic, I thought. I was pathetic.

Shaking my head into my pillow, I brought the plush blanket up to my chin and forced my turbulent thoughts to stop for the night as I drifted off to sleep.

Sometime during the night, I felt a low dip in the mattress, warmth radiating in that direction. But, before consciousness could sweep over me, I was once again called to the darkness.

I wasn't sure how long I had been sleeping soundly in the guest room when a flood of blinding light dragged me awake. From the position of the sun, I knew it was still early in the morning, but not early enough for the morning to be mistaken as night.

"What—" I had begun to crack, rubbing the sleep out of my eyes.

"Fucking hell," Alpha Wade muttered under his breath.

I bolted upright, directing my attention toward Wade who was laying next to me. Our bodies were close, inches away from touching, and my heart beat enthusiastically in my chest as I leaned against the headboard.

His eyes were still filled with sleep, and it was hard not to stare directly at his lips. Faint lines pressed into the side of his face from his pillow, and I longed to reach out and trace each mark.

"Wha?" I repeated, staring wide-eyed at Alpha Wade.

He furrowed his brow. "Why are you looking at me like that?"

I shook my head, pushing the sheets off my body. "No reason," I lied as I rummaged through my bag. I picked up the nearest articles of clothing, ready to retreat to the bathroom.

Alpha Wade inhaled. "You won't want to take a shower."

"What?"

I swiveled on my heel, facing him. He blinked. "Not a woman of many words in the morning, I see."