Page 82 of Secret Heart
“Penny girl, out of the driveway.” Triston scoops her up before she can decide to move herself, kissing her belly to keep her distracted from having to abandon her bubble machine. Beau seamlessly moves the whale onto the porch, refilling the reservoir before Penny can screech.
Forcing my attention back to what’s in front of me, I hand mom another sterilized jar. She smiles as she takes it, seamlessly swapping it with the one that’s now full of honey. I take it from her, screwing on the metal lid and then securing the red gingham fabric atop it with Mom’s company logo.
A door closes.
“You made it!” Triston says happily.
Lance’s laugh is warm. “This place is stunning.”
Mom glances up, stoppering the large vat of honey she’s portioning out for the booth she keeps at the artisanal market up in Jackson. I focus on Lance, too. He’s dressed in jeans today, though he’s still wearing a polo. His short brown hair isn’t styled, falling in soft waves across his forehead. He tilts a paper cup with the Rustic Roast’s logo to his lips, taking a quick drink. Hetucks his free hand into his pockets as he stops on the top step of the porch, leaning against the support beam. Behind him, a now-dusty rental sedan sits on the driveway, right where Penny had been playing.
My stomach clenches even as he smiles. Triston sheds his ball cap, kisses Penny’s cheek, and then crosses the porch to us.
“How was the drive?” he asks,.
They give each other one of those one-armed guy hugs.
“Beautiful,” Lance says. “And Joan is lovely as well. She almost didn’t let me pay, but I forced the issue.”
Beau laughs and runs a hand through his hair. The sun catches on the bandage covering the nineteen stitches he needed last week from where Molly had gored his arm. The smaller puncture on his hand only need super glue, no deeper than the bites I gave him last month. My stomach clenches again, but I breathe through that gnawing anxiety. Me and worry have a long relationship at this point, and I’m learning to ride the waves as they come.
Mom twists away from our jar-filling station we’ve set up on the porch and holds her hand out to Lance. He takes it without missing a beat, his smile warm and practiced.
“I’m Lynn, Emily’s mom. It’s lovely to meet you,” she says. “Thank you for Billings.”
Lance’s smile drops away, and his answer is more earnest than before.
“Of course. Triston’s safety and happiness are my priority.” Then he clears his throat. “Speaking of which…”
Mom looks between all of us and then says, “I’ll go grab some drinks.”
The screen door snaps back into place behind her.
“What’s the update?” Beau asks.
“The OAD has found no evidence of Alpha-specific psychosis,” Lance says with a sigh.
“That’s what we expected,” I murmur.
And what we wanted. Why did he seem upset over the outcome we wanted?
The screen door opens as Mom steps onto the porch, cups of water held in her hands. She gives one to Triston and then sets mine on the table beside the finished jars of honey. She hands Beau a fresh mug of coffee that he takes with a large smile.
“He’s also plead not guilty on the charges,” Lance says, less than enthused. “According to the agency’s lawyer, that probably means he thinks he’ll get a better outcome by going in front of a jury.”
Now my stomach twists on itself. My vanilla pulses out from me. Triston takes my hand and kisses my temple.
“Will he?” Beau crosses his arms.
Lance shrugs. “Probably not. Most people don’t take kindly to Omegas being assaulted, no matter how famous. Either way, though, this is going to end up a media circus for the next few months while it goes to trial. Probably no worse than when everything went down when you got doxxed but…”
“It’ll bring all that attention on you all,” Triston says grimly, looking at me and then Beau. “And Penny, too. Some of those gossip sites don’t really care what kind of damage they cause as long as they get clicks and ad money.”
Beau blows out a breath too heavily to be a sigh. “Well, other packs have adapted. We will, too. Just like we said last month, Triston.” He holds out his hand and laces his fingers with Triston’s. “We’ll figure it out.”
“I have a consultation scheduled with a company that specializes in celebrity safety.” Lance takes another sip of the coffee. “And I’m ready with the paperwork if you want to activate your cancellation clause.”
I frown. “Absolutely not.”
