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“Did he leave because of the divorce?”

“He left because staying would’ve meant facing consequences. He preferred to go somewhere nobody knew what he’d done.”

The bitterness came out more clearly than I intended. I grabbed another fry and focused on chewing it before continuing.

“At first, he claimed he wanted shared custody,” I said. “That lasted until he realized custody involved schedules, responsibility, and taking care of an infant without my mom available to handle the difficult parts. He visited a few times when I was young, but mostly because his parents pressured him.”

Sloane grimaced. “He didn’t want to be involved?”

“No. The asshole didn’t want the responsibility of a kid.”

The words had lost some of their weight over the years, though never all of it. There were facts I could repeat without feeling anything. He’d left. He’d missed birthdays. He’d made promises he didn’t keep. He’d sent a card when I turned ten with my name misspelled and fifty dollars tucked inside.

Other memories reached deeper. Like waiting on the front steps because he’d said he was coming. Or refusing to go inside because I believed he might still arrive, and Mom sitting beside me after dark without telling me I’d been foolish to hope.

Sloane didn’t say a word, giving me space rather than filling it with immediate comfort. I appreciated that.

“He’s never really been in the picture,” I said. “He’d appear every few years when guilt or nostalgia caught up with him. He always wanted credit for showing up, even if he left again before anything became inconvenient.”

“Does he still contact you?”

“Not often. I stopped answering his calls several years ago.”

“Was there a specific reason?”

I looked out at the space between the trees. “He called after Grandma Ruth’s ninetieth birthday. He’d heard Mom might retire in the next few years and wanted to give me advice about leadership.”

Sloane’s mouth fell open. “He wanted to give you advice?”

“He had thoughts.”

“I’m sure they were invaluable,” Sloane said dryly.

“He said I needed to avoid letting the pack take advantage of me.”

She stared at me, open-mouthed. “The man who abandoned his infant son was concerned other people might ask too much of you?”

“I believe he saw himself as uniquely qualified to discuss self-preservation.”

“That’s impressive. Horrible, but impressive.”

I laughed. “I told him I had learned everything I needed from him.”

“What did you learn?”

“How not to live,” I said without hesitation.

Sloane’s amusement faded, but she didn’t look away.

I had never said that so plainly to anyone. Mom understood it without needing the words. Julie had probably figured it out years ago. They knew I disliked Dean and had no interest in rebuilding the relationship.

I was less certain they understood how much of my life had been shaped in opposition to his.

“I want to be the best alpha I can be when my mother retires,” I said. “I know nobody can be available every second, and I know I’ll make mistakes. But I want people to know they can depend on me. I want them to know I’ll stay.”

Sloane listened without interrupting.

“My father left the moment commitment demanded anything from him,” I continued. “He left his mate, his pack, and his kid because he wanted whatever felt easier. I’ve spent most of my life making sure nobody can say the same about me.”