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"Nonsense. I haven't slept a wink." He shifts on the couch, lumbering with the effort. Patting the seat beside him, he gestures for me to sit.
"I feel like we've barely seen you lately. Your mother said you were staying with a friend? Was it that Ophelia? Nice girl. A little outspoken. I do wish you'd hit it off with the Constantines, but they are scent-matches, after all. Can't change nature."
Hope sparks in my chest. Maybe if I told him about Dante, he'd help me talk to Mother, to get her to let go of the idea of Stevens being their salvation, and look for another solution to their problem.
I'm sure the reason my fathers haven't lived a more modest lifestyle is because of her. I see that they like their toys, too, but my mother complains when her purses are last season and how it would look if her water features out front were domestic and not imported, heaven forbid.
"Is your knee okay?" I ask.
He sighs, stretching his opposite leg, making circles with both, trying to ease his pain. "It's fine. Knee surgery was a long time coming."
"Knee surgery? I thought you were injured…"
He laughs self-deprecatingly, waving me off. "Oh, I had a little accident, it's true. Jeffrey and I can't seem to keep out of trouble these days. But my knee has been needing surgery for the last few years, ever since I tore my meniscus. It was a blessing in disguise. Don't worry about me. I'm fine."
"So… you had an accident at the gym that made it worse? Didn't Jeffrey fall on the treadmill?" I ask. "Two injuries requiring casts, both at the gym?" He must know that sounds like a stretch. Maybe I've been going about this all wrong, trying to get my mother to talk to me.
His eyes narrow. "Why all the concern, dear? I told you I'm fine. Alright? No need to worry that pretty little head of yours. Now, I heard you had dinner with Stevens today. That's excellent, Imogen. You'll be the town's first lady—did you realize that? My daughter, the wife of a politician." His eyes shine proudly.
"Umm… Yes. Very exciting. Dad, I know Stevens offered you a generous sum in exchange for my hand."
"Imogen, we don't talk about money in this family," he scolds.
This is why I talk to my mother more than my fathers. She may talk in circles and insult me, but they dismiss me entirely. They're kind and sweet until they aren't, patting me on the head like I'm an idiot. At least she'll talk to me, even if she's rude. I'm just so tired of the subterfuge. "Yes, I know. It's just… Why did you take it? Why didn't you let me wait and choose my own partner?"
His alpha growls, and I flinch, ducking my head. "Imogen, really. It's too late to have this conversation. One, I might remind you, we've had dozens of times in the past, and I'm honestly quite tired of having it, as is your mother. I'm a little concerned, in fact. Perhaps we need to get your head checked. Have you been feeling well?"
I pull back, "I can't ask a simple question?" We most certainly have never had this conversation, let alone dozens of times.
"Not if you've asked the question enough times that I'm concerned about your mental health. Are you forgetting these things? Or are you just being willfully ignorant? Do you have any idea how much time and money we've put into your education, into courting packs, dressing you up to be your perfect self? Hmm?"
"Dad—"
"Of course not. You just sit there and look pretty, as you should. But you've no idea the complexities it takes to run a family this esteemed. The money from Stevens is like paying us back for all the money we put into you. You've been groomed into this lovely swan, and Stevens will reap the rewards. Are you suggesting you don't owe us for everything you have? The clothes on your back, your education, this roof over your head? Leave the thinking to me and your fathers, Imogen," he spits, then his face transforms, his temper disappearing on a whim, but it's too late. The damage is done, and my omega is cowering. "Now, I'm sure you need your beauty sleep. Go on to bed."
I press my lips together, willing to keep the tears at bay. The harshness, each word a slap, has me wondering how I could forget what he's really like. It's only when I don't conform that they treat me harshly, which is why I always obey.
Carefully, I lift from the seat, keeping a neutral smile on my face because that's what he expects. Perfection. On the way out the door, I pause.
"Are Hale and David home soon?" I ask softly. I've been wondering where my other fathers fit into this whole mess, and maybe, possibly, they don't know what's happening under this roof. My parents, as far as I know, are barely a scent-sympathetic match, more of an arranged marriage. Hale and David have always been closer than Jeffrey and Bowen, and I'd seen my mother as the glue that held them together.
He glares at me for asking more questions, his alpha energy nearly choking me. The urge to submit, to bend my neck, is overpowering, and I've never felt this small. Before the tears spill from my eyes, I dip my head subordinately, then hurry upstairs to my room.
The hole in my chest for my missing mates, being at odds with them, and being under the thumb of my parents tears small pieces of my heart. I'm more lost than ever, and sleep never comes.
Chapter 21
Cass
The energy at breakfast is next level. It's just Red and me; Iggy is still sleeping, which is a relief, since he hasn't slept for more than a week. Red and I can't seem to string two sentences together, weighed down by our situation. It's a lot of huffing and loaded sighs.
"We fucked up," I finally say, washing my bowl at the sink. We need to replace the dishwasher. Fucker is ancient. I mentally add it to the list of things we need to do before Imogen moves in. Because, despite how awkward shit was last night when she left, I'm not giving up.
"Yep."
"So. What do we do about it?"
Red's mug pauses at his mouth, mid-sip. He sets the coffee back down. "Hell if I know. She's not telling us something. A lot of things."
