Page 11 of The Reluctant Alpha

Shane snorted. "Whatever. It's weird, is all I'm saying. And now they've got you driving out there at night and crashing into trees."

"Just drop it, Shane." The last thing I needed was to get into an argument about the supernatural world my brother knew nothing about.

"Fine," he muttered, then perked up. "Hey, you know what might cheer you up? Remember my buddy Chris? He's opening this new club in Ellensburg next weekend. VIP section, top-shelf liquor—"

"Let me guess," I cut in. "He needs investors?"

Shane's expression soured. "Not everything is a scheme, Danny. I was just trying to help you have some fun."

"The last time I had 'fun' with one of your friends, I ended up covering his bar tab and getting my wallet stolen."

"That was one time!"

I turned away, staring out the window as we drove through Minton. My head hurt too much for this conversation. All I wanted was to crawl into bed and forget this day had happened. Forget how I'd clung to Bayer like some desperate damsel in distress. Forget how he'd just walked away when I needed him most. The thought made my chest ache worse than my head.

When we pulled up to Mom's house, the porch light was on. She must have been watching for us because the front door opened before Shane had even turned off the engine.

"Danny!" Mom rushed down the steps, her face pale with worry. "What happened to your head?"

"It's just a bump," I said, letting her pull me into a hug. "I'm fine, Mom."

"You're not fine! You disappeared for hours, your phone was going straight to voice mail, and now you show up with a bruise the size of Texas on your forehead!"

I let her fuss, too exhausted to protest as she ushered me inside and sat me down at the kitchen table. The familiar scent of her lemon cleaner and the perpetual pot of coffee filled the air. Home, but not comfort. Not the way Bayer's arms had felt.

"I wrecked my car," I admitted as she pressed an ice pack to my head. "Hit a tree."

"On the Colton property," Shane added helpfully from the doorway.

Mom's eyes widened. "What were you doing all the way out there?"

"Visiting Emery," I said. "The roads were slick from the rain."

"And where is Emery now? Why didn't he come with you to make sure you were okay?"

I sighed. “He was out.”

She shook her head. “You shouldn’t go to work tomorrow with that bump.” She frowned and started talking about head injury protocols, which I pretty much ignored, knowing it was the nurse in her, not just the mom.

Shane rolled his eyes. “He’s fine, Mom. Pretty sure even Drama Danny can manage a job with a teeny-tiny scratch, unless he’s broken a nail or—”

“At least I have a job,” I all but yelled. The silence in the kitchen was broken only by the slam of the door as Shane stormed out. Mom sighed. “Danny, you know he's trying."

"Trying what exactly?" I muttered, wincing as she adjusted the ice pack. "Trying to mooch off you for the rest of his life? Trying to drag me into another get-rich-quick scheme?"

"He's your brother," she said with that same tired expression she always wore when we fought. "Family is all we have."

I bit my tongue to keep from saying what I really thought—that sometimes the people who weren't blood made you feel more at home than the ones who were.

"I need to figure out transportation for work," I said instead. "My car's totaled."

"We'll sort something out," Mom promised, though I knew her finances were stretched thin already. "Maybe Logan can drop you off before his classes."

I nodded, though the thought of being dependent on my younger brother made my stomach twist. Not that I begrudged him his car. Okay, well, maybe a little bit. Logan was really clever. He’d gotten a fancy science gig at school, and because he was needed for research as well as his own studies, he had bought his own car. Nothing too crazy, but it was only three years old and reliable. Not the piece of crap I’d gotten. Logan had a form of ADHD the same as I did. Except where I got the lottery of scatter-brained poor concentration, he got hyper-focus, making him excellent at his job and why he’d been able to afford the car. I only survived mine because of Emery. "I should get some sleep."

"Of course, honey." She helped me up, hovering as I made my way to my old bedroom. It was still decorated with faded posters from high school, the twin bed barely long enough for my adult frame. Coming back home after college was supposed to be temporary. Three years later, I was still here. I was desperate to go, but what would Mom do then?

As I lay in bed staring at the ceiling, my thoughts returned to Bayer. To the way he'd looked at me when he'd pulled me from the car—with such concern, such tenderness.