Crazy for the Alpha (Sequel to Tutoring the Alpha)

Chapter Eight: Bring It On

            I left therapy feeling angry and alone. It was Sunday, and things had only gone from bad to worse in my life. I was mad at Mickey for kicking Shane out of the pack. Mickey was mad at me for sleeping with Shane and not telling him. I was also mad at Mickey for fucking me on the kitchen counter in front of his entire pack. Mickey was also mad at me for being mad at him for kicking Shane out of the pack, because he thought it proved I was in love with Shane or something equally ridiculous. Kent was mad at Mickey because we only had one more day until the rival pack had said they'd attack us for being on their territory, and Mickey still hadn't done shit about it. Kent, Max, and Nic were all mad at Mickey for kicking Shane out of the pack as well. The majority of the women in the pack were mad at Mickey for the way he'd treated me.

And to make matters worse, my therapist had informed me that Friday's events had, in fact, triggered my PTSD and my depression. My medication kept the psychosis and schizophrenia from plaguing me with voices and delusions, but she had just prescribed me new medication for the PTSD and increased depression. Unfortunately, that meant they wouldn't start kicking in for another 2-3 days. So I was trapped with my negative thoughts and my aching heart and my bruised body for the next 48 hours, at least.

           Ross drove me home, being careful not to plague me with questions even though I was sure he was concerned. I didn't have many answers for him or for anybody else; Mickey and I weren't speaking to each other, and I had no clue what to do about it. When we got back to the pack house, I grabbed the half-empty box of Reese's Puffs that I'd started earlier and took it upstairs with me to eat and wallow in my misery. I was already wearing pajama shorts and a comfortable t-shirt, so I curled right up in bed and put on Supernatural. I had an 8:00 am class the next morning, but nothing about my current mood indicated I would be dragging my ass out of bed in time to attend.

The day passed uneventfully; no one came in or out of my room, per my request, and I didn't see or hear from Mickey until about 8:15 that night, when he knocked cautiously on the door.

             "What," I yelled, reaching for the remote to turn down Sam and Dean's voices as Mickey walked in slowly. He looked even worse than I did; his hair was a mess, longer than it had ever been and hanging in disarray around his shoulders. His cheeks and jaw were covered in a thick layer of stubble, like he hadn't shaved in days, and dark circles hung under his eyes like leeches. He was pale, and the lines of his face were stretched out in an emotionless mask that almost made me tear up.

"I just came to say goodbye," he said quietly, leaning against the bedpost and sticking his hands into the pockets of his sweatsuit.

"You're leaving?" My voice was like the croak of an elderly frog, and I hastily reached for my water bottle, where it sat on the bedside table.

"I have an early practice tomorrow morning, so I figured I would say bye now instead of waking you up early tomorrow."

Mickey looked uncomfortable with his words, and we stared at each other in silence as my mind struggled to figure out an appropriate response. He wasn't exactly being kind to me, but he wasn't yelling either. I didn't want to say anything nice like "Have fun" or "I'll miss you," because it wasn't genuine. I didn't want him to have fun....but even I couldn't deny to myself that I would miss him anyway. I would always miss Mickey when he wasn't with me, even when I was furious with him. But I didn't want him to know that.

"Um....thanks. How long will you be gone?"

"Well, we have our first preseason game on Wednesday, against the Kings. It's in Anaheim."

His words hung between us, and I dropped my gaze with a reluctant blush. I knew we were both remembering when I'd promised I'd go to his first game with the Lakers, no matter what classes I would be missing or what conflicts might arise. That had been months ago, back in Virginia, back before we had packed up our lives and moved across the country. Back before all of this shit had happened.