Page 28 of Chasing The Alpha's Son
She lifts her head and looks at me with sad, tired eyes, but still raises a teasing eyebrow that says “Really?”
I laugh a little. “Okay, maybe sneaking out isn’t the most trustworthy action. But I’m okay and I’m not like, doing drugs or crime or anything.”
Now she laughs properly. “Believe me, if it was drugs I’d have known.”
“Okay.” I roll my eyes. “You look tired; can you tell me I’m grounded again in the morning?”
“Sure,” she says, wiping her cheek, and rubbing my face with her free hand. “And just to be clear: whenever you’re ready, your father and I are here for you.”
“Thank you.”
With a huff she stands and shuffles to the door.
“Light on or off?” she asks.
“Off is great.”
“Don’t forget to brush your teeth, kiddo.”
“Okay, Mom, night. Love you.”
“Love you too.”
I slip into bed and let the heat from the blankets burn away any lingering chills from the water. Lying on my back, I stare at the glow-in-the-dark planets my dad stuck on the ceiling when I was a kid and I realize something I’ve known for a while now. The reason I haven’t been able to tell them about Jasper has nothing to do with the fact that he’s a guy. I know they wouldn’t care about that.
The problem is Jasper. The problem is I not only have to tell them my mate is a guy, but he’s also a dick who ignores me, and I’m embarrassed. Embarrassed because of how he treats me and embarrassed because even though he’s a jerk I’m still chasing him. I nearly drowned tonight trying to prove a point. How can I tell my parents that?
This is supposed to be my big coming-out, but what am I coming out as? Some guy’s boyfriend? That just seems lame. And not about me at all. I’ve been so obsessed with being Jasper’s mate, I haven’t stopped to think what this means about me, who I am. And before I tell my parents anything, I need to figure that out.
Mom and Dad insist on driving me to the airport. Of course, we’re not taking a commercial flight, instead the lucky chosen few get to ride in one of the alpha’s private jets, which means right now we’re on our way to a private airfield somewhere on Long Island. It was touch and go whether I’d be allowed to come after I snuck out. But after our late-night chat, something has shifted with Mom.
She’s chilled out so much, as if all she needed was the confirmation that something was up. I guess she just wanted to feel like she wasn’t crazy, that she did still have some instinct about what was going on with her kid. And once she let up, Dad seemed keen to get everything back to normal.
I still catch her giving me these quizzical sideways glances—like the one she’s giving me right now in the rearview mirror—but it’s nothing like the piercing, questioning stare from before. I feel as if we’ve come to an understanding. She knows I have to tell her something, but she also knows I’m not ready and that’s okay. At least for now.
“You’re becoming a bit of a fixture at important pack events, Maxie,” Dad says, leaning round from his spot riding shotgun.
“Huh, yeah.”
I wish Katie was here with us to act as a diversion, but she said she was getting a ride with Todd and Simon. Plus we haven’t exactly been texting at our usual rate since the race. It’s been over a week, and I thought Katie might have called to apologize, but instead all I’ve received are some vague texts. We haven’t even done half of our usual holiday traditions—like going to see the window displays at Macy’s, or present shopping, or watching every holiday movie under the sun.
It’s the middle of the morning and the weather is crisp and dry; the sun flits between the convenience stores and strip malls as we head through suburbia. Eventually we turn off and make our way down a long stretch of road. Chain-link fences—the kind I imagine surround Area 51—line a large, flat expanse of short brown grass cut through by a runway. A stout air control tower sits toward the left of the airfield, with some flat-roofed buildings situated nearby. We slow as we come to the entrance. A guard booth sits to the side of a security beam that’s blocking our path.
“Uh, hello,” Mom says, opening her window to speak with a cross-armed guard reclining in an office chair. “We’re here to drop off our son for the trip to the Rockies.”
“Name?” he grunts—definitely one of the pack’s obedient security forces.
“Maximilian Remus,” Mom says a little too proudly.
“Car park’s on the right.”
With another grunt he hits a button, the barrier rises, and we glide smoothly underneath.
As we turn into the parking lot I finally spot the plane sitting on the tarmac. It’s this sleek, pearl-white jet sitting all alone in the massive airfield. There’s already a group gathered next to it, while some of the airport staff move about with fuel hoses and luggage carts. I hop out and pull my duffel bag across the seat, slinging it over my shoulder.
I notice the full-on suitcases being lifted into the undercarriage of the aircraft and wonder if I’ve underpacked. It looks like a family of twelve is moving house. We’re only going for a week, and other than one trip up a mountain, I thought we’d just be sitting in a cabin. Why could they possibly need that much stuff?
“Max!” Katie waves from across the tarmac, and I wave back, but she’s immediately distracted by Simon and Todd pulling her in for a photo.
