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“Good morning,” I try.
He glowers into his cereal.
“We’re running late, so make it quick, okay?”
His brown eyes bore into me accusingly. “Maybe we wouldn’t be late if you didn’t have such a long night.”
“You’re a big meanie, Ben!” Emmaline shouts before sticking out her tongue.
My mouth opens in shock. I stare at my son, who looks so much like his father. His fists are squeezed tight, his face red, and his eyes critical. I know this anger comes from a place of hurt, but damn, he knows where to strike. “What did you say to me?”
“What everyone else in this town is always saying. Didn’t you learn with Dad?” He makes a sneering sound of disbelief. “No. You brought that omega here. Because you’re a Crawley Chaser. What the kids at school say is true. We’re tr?—”
I’ve never seen Ben so cruel. It breaks something inside me. “Don’t you say one more word, Benjamin Thomas. Some things you can’t take back.”
Shock blasts through me, and my stomach cramps. The betas from Crawley always have had a reputation. They said the same shit when I went to school. Most of the time, we live up to our reputations. We’re the wrong kind of betas. The too loud and too poor and too loose kind. But to have my son basically call me trash hits deeper than any insult a stranger has ever thrown my way.
He gets up and slams his bowl of cereal into the sink, the milk splashing over the sides. “I’m going to wait outside. It reeks in here.”
My fight with Ben plays on repeat in my mind throughout the morning. He said things he never should have, but I messed up too. The idea of courting Finn and Reid is something I’m going to discuss with him. If they’re serious, and it looks like they might actually be serious, as outrageous as that is, then I have to be upfront about it.
I don’t have any idea how to date as a single mom or as an adult. I lived with Trent when I was still a teenager, and I haven’t been with anyone since. And dating isn’t courting. That’s for omegas.
I know I need to figure it out, except I don’t have any idea what to say to Ben. If what Finn is saying isn’t just hot air, they’re my mates. How the fuck is that possible? In my experience, things that easy are hiding a second and third layer of utter shit and destruction.
Fuck a duck. My life has gotten a lot more complicated, and it was already a chaos monster anyway.
I get through cleaning the rental, but I’m behind schedule. My sister couldn’t cover for Stacey, who is still sick, this morning and the other two girls are down with the flu. I’m dragging ass by the time I make it into the diner almost forty minutes late.
“You look like death warmed over,” Cutter says in greeting.
“Thanks. That’s what every woman wants to hear.” I clock in and turn back to him at the swinging door that separates the kitchen from the floor. “Sorry I’m late. I had to clean a rental by myself this morning.”
He grumbles but nods. “Don’t tell me. Margaret is the one who wants to chew your ass. Hazel called in sick. She’s alone out there.”
“Shit,” I curse as Margaret hits me with the swinging door.
Margaret cuts her eyes at me. “Sugar, whatcha need? An invitation? Get your young ass in gear.”
I pull out my apron and fall into the grind, unable to focus any more on Benjamin, Finn, Reid, or scent matched mates. I’ve got the usuals, plus carry-out orders, and two tables of off-duty firefighters who come in throughout lunch. The tip-bombing is ongoing, but I’m so busy I can’t even take a moment to appreciate the extra tips.
The lunch rush is nearing its end, and I haven’t eaten or taken a break. All the movement is draining my over-worked body. It’s like I got one night of good sleep, and now my body has decided to shut down until I give in to more. Little dots dance in my vision, making the floor feel wobbly. The tray I’m holding slides in my arms. For some reason, I’m freezing, even though my uniform is a soggy noodle of sweat.
Cutter calls out my name, and I see his concern through the kitchen window.
“I’m fine,” I try to say, but the words come out slurred. The floor rises to meet me and it’s lights out.
Chapter 9
Reid
Dispatch squawks from the radio. "Medical over at Mel's. Female, beta. Age twenty-nine, waitress. The patient fainted and remains unconscious. The owner says she hit her head on the countertop, possible concussion."
The sinking feeling in my gut causes my foot to hit the gas. We’re already on overtime after working a wreck past shift change, but there is no way I'mnotgoing on this call.
Spencer gives me a look and picks up the radio. "Confirm. Engine Three en route."
It's the longest drive of my life, and once we get to Mel's, I practically throw myself out the door.
