Page 41 of Adoring Fletcher
“I’ve been busy,” I ground out, choosing my words carefully. “Work has been stressful. You know how it is.”
His snort reverberated through the phone line, straight into my bones. My hands began to shake. “That’s a bullshit excuse and we both know it. What were you doing just now that was so important that?—”
“I was having breakfast, Father,” I retorted. “Am I not allowed to nourish my body now?” I hated my tone. Hated my attitude and all of this built-up anger, but I was so damn frustrated. At his silence, I took a deep breath and tried again. “Sorry. I’m stressed. How is Mother?”
“She’s fine,” he snapped. “Everyone’s just fine, but it would be nice if you’d come around for dinner every so often, Adam. We’ve missed you at the last couple of full-moon gatherings as well. Have you been letting your wolf out to run, at least?”
I hesitated, realizing that…no. No, I hadn’t. Not in weeks, but I also hadn’t really felt the urge or the need to, because my wolf was happy when Fletcher was near.Mate…
But I couldn’t exactly tell my father that.
I sighed softly. “No. I’ve been neglecting him for work, I guess,” I admitted, which wasn’t entirely a lie.
“That’s no good at all, Adam,” he said, and I could hear it—the shades of disappointment in his voice that reminded me that I was a bad son. “Listen. We have things we need to discuss.”
And there it was.
“Why don’t you come home for lunch and we can go over them together. Man to man.”
I closed my eyes. Held my breath. Counted to five. I wanted to refuse. I wanted to tell him that I had no intentions of doing any such thing, but I also knew I couldn’t keep pushing this off forever.
“Okay,” I relented. “That sounds good. What time?”
“Does noon work?” he asked.
“Yeah.” Not that I’d be hungry, but I also knew I wouldn’t be able to eat with Father around anyway. Staring down his nose at me, judging my every move.“Don’t eat too many of those, or you’ll get fat, then no Omega worth having will want you.”
I shook my head, trying to shake the thought.
“Good. I’ll let your mother know so she can make those little cucumber sandwiches you always liked so much.”
“Great. See you at noon then,” I said with as much fake cheer as I could muster, then hung up before he could get another word in. I dropped my phone into the recesses of my jeans pocket and let my head thunk back against the wall.
“Fuck…”
Fletcher hadn’t moved from his spot at the table, but his attention was locked on me. His forehead was furrowed with concern, his lips curving into a frown.
“Adam?” As if he could feel the distress coursing through my veins, he stood and came over to me slowly, like approaching a wild animal.
But when he opened his arms to me, inviting me in for a hug, the ice that was quickly forming a shell around my heart melted.
I pushed off the wall and collided with him, sinking into his embrace. I wrapped my arms around his body and he hugged me tightly, his face tucked against the crook of my neck.
“Everything’s gonna be okay,” he whispered, sounding more sure of it than I felt in that moment. “You’ll see.”
The two of us watched TV until it was time for me to go. I didn’t want to leave, but I knew if I kept putting Father off, he’d start pulling strings and I refused to be his marionette.
“Good luck.” Fletcher leaned up and kissed me.
“Thanks,” I said. “I’m going to need it.”
Because I already had a pretty good idea of what my father wanted to talk about—and sure enough, my hunch was correct.
The minute I sat down in the overstuffed leather chair in Father’s study, a little plate of cucumber sandwiches and iced tea sitting atop his desk, he launched into a tirade about how I wasn’t “getting any younger” and that I was heir to the Silverthorn pack, as well as the successor of Sinclair-Westerix & Co.
I held my tongue, even though that meant I had to bite it hard enough that I was pretty sure my taste buds would be forever damaged.
Father went on. “You’re a young Alpha, Adam, but you’ll need to be married soon in order to inherit the company, in case I were to pass away.”
