Page 155 of Wicked Savage Wolves
Me: Staying with Jae for a bit. Call me when you have a sec.
I’m not used to radio silence from her. We’ve always been close. Especially after Dad died. She talked to me. Told me things most mothers probably wouldn’t tell their daughters, but it was okay. I liked the shift in our relationship. I liked knowing she needed me, but now—I need her.
I try to push back the emotion swirling inside of me. An empty crater opens in my chest and I rub at the ache, hating the hollow feeling inside of me.
“You’re not some little kid anymore,” I remind myself. I close my eyes and take a deep breath. Everyone has to leave the nest at some time. Now just happens to be mine.
I set my phone on the bedside table before picking it back up. I debate calling Jordy next.
Every day this week he’s come over to the house after dealing with whatever Pack obligations he has. But he’s clearly upset with me today. It’s stupid and beyond immature. I get the feeling he won’t want to stop by today, but if he does, he should hear it from me.
Indecision swirls through me. I don’t want to tell him. I want to just pretend like this isn’t a thing. Because it shouldn’t be. Where I live should play no part in our relationship, whatever it may be. And that kiss. I press my fingers to my lips, remembering his touch. His taste. He’s always sweet like oranges with a hint of spice, much like thepalerindas—a tamarind-flavored sucker—I see him eating sometimes.
But I know this is going to be a thing between us. It’ll cause a rift, and if my mom ends up being the one to tell him, it will only make it so much worse. She hates the Pack right now. Blames them for what is happening with Diego.
The last time we spoke, she told me I had to be careful or the Pack would tear César away from me like they were doing with Diego to her. She’s so blind to what is actually happening.
I love my mom, but she’s not thinking clearly right now.
Resigned with the knowledge that I do actually have to tell him, I pull up Jordy’s number and hit call, listening as it rings. Once. Twice. Five times. I hit his voicemail. Relief sweeps through me as his voice says, “This is Jordy. You know what to do.” The line beeps and I hang up. Voicemail isn’t the best way to tell him I’ve moved out, right? I’ll try again later. Probably. But at least I can say I did try.
I check the time. Should I send him a text? Maybe just to ask him to call me when he has a moment. Before I can decide, my phone vibrates in my hand and I jump.
Jordy’s name flashes across the screen and my fingers fumble to open the incoming message, nerves already slamming into me.
Jordy:Had some Pack shit come up. I’ll be busy the next few days.
Oh.My shoulders slump. He’ll be busy? What is that supposed to mean? Like, is he too busy for César and me? I chew on my bottom lip. Is he really that mad at me that he’d make up some story about Pack stuff?
I shake my head. No. I’ll give him the benefit of the doubt. Besides, I wanted to put off telling him I moved out anyway. This at least buys me some time.
I sit on the edge of the bed and stare down at my phone.
This is good. Helpful, even.
I exhale a harsh breath. So why does it feel like my stomach is trying to escape through my feet right now?
If he wants to avoid me, there isn’t anything I can do about it. It just royally sucks to know that he does.
Me:Okay. See you at school.
I hit the send button,refusing to let on how much this bothers me. Doubt creeps in and I wonder if this is going to be a recurring thing? Get mad at Jo and suddenly become unavailable?
Three little dots appear on the screen and I wait for him to respond, but after a few seconds, the dots that signal he’s typing fade and no new messages arrive. I sigh. Whatever. Boys are dumb anyway.
67
Jordy
It’s been three days since I found out Raul died, and life has been an absolute shitstorm. I didn’t even make it to training the last two days, and I barely see César. I mean, I see him at school since Joaninha brings him, but getting my kid for all of thirty minutes during lunch and then sharing him during fourth period isn’t enough. This isn’t going to work for me.
I remind myself that it’s temporary. As soon as we figure shit out and make sure Sofia isn’t taken, I can spend more time with César. With my girl. Joaninha has been acting strange. Reserved even. It’s like she’s folding herself back into a shell and I’m not sure what to think about it. My wolf hates the distance and it’s had me on edge. I want to let her know what’s going on, but what if she freaks out? I won’t risk her keeping César from me. I’d like to think we’re past that. That she’d never keep him from me. But I can’t shake the feeling that she might if she thought going rogue was hereditary or common or whatever.
What mother wouldn’t be worried, right? She doesn’t know what it’s like being a wolf. Having a beast inside of you and balancing that with your humanity each and every day.
“Thank you, boys. I believe that’s everything I need for now,” the South Atlantic Pack Representative—a Miss Patricia Morgen—says, getting to her feet. She holds a legal pad in one hand, the first few pages littered in notes. About what, who the fuck knows. She’s been here twice now in three days, and I won’t be surprised if I see her again.
I hate that our Alpha agreed to this. He should have rejected their request outright, but he thinks if he can assuage their Alpha of any concerns, it’ll be easier building a case for why Sofia should stay here, with us. He wants to prevent a confrontation. Pack politics and all that bullshit, but it feels like a waste of fucking time. These people have no right to come in here and make a bid for my sister. Hell, my mom has no right. She gave that up years ago when she walked out on us for some other fucking shifter in a different Pack. She wasn’t worried about Sofia then. Why bother now?
