Broken (Blackwater Pack) Page 2

  “I need you to come downstairs,” Remy said, his tone low and calm. His alpha voice.

  My eyes narrowed. “What’s going on?”

  “We’ll explain everything,” he replied in that infuriating unhurried way he was speaking.

  “We?” That caught my attention. “Is Skye with you? She okay?”

  Skye Markham, Remy’s mate, was another one of my closest friends, which was kind of weird considering I’d only known her for a few months. She was Larkin and Katy’s best friend and Remy’s … everything. We had been friends before I dropped the ball and let her get kidnapped right in front of me.

  I might have gotten a little obsessed with making sure she was okay once she woke up from her three week coma-nap. A coma she wouldn’t have been in had I done my damn job as Remy’s beta and protected her.

  A soft smile, sickeningly in love, lifted his expression. “Skye’s good. She’s not here.”

  That was a relief.

  Remy sighed, rubbing a hand across the back of his neck. “Get dressed and come downstairs.”

  “Rem—”

  “Trust me,” he said. Something in his tone made me pause.

  Finally I gave him a reluctant nod, waiting for him to leave the room before I shoved the sheets off my body and headed for the small attached bathroom.

  I closed the door and slapped the light switch on, glaring at the reflection in the mirror. My hair was, unsurprisingly, a mess. I was exhausted. It had taken hours for me to fall asleep, my mind insisting on replaying the scene outside with Larkin on a loop, dissecting and analyzing everything she said. Every smile, every twitch of a facial muscle. I thought of all the things I could have said, wanted to have said, but didn’t.

  At one point, I almost caved and went downstairs to grab one of the beers I knew was in the fridge. I needed something to take the edge off. But the idea of sneaking past the man out cold surrounded by empty cans made my stomach sour.

  No way would I use alcohol as a way out.

  I wasn’t my father.

  By the time I finished in the bathroom, the last memories of my Larkin fantasy had faded, and I was somewhat ready to face whatever was happening downstairs.

  At least that was what I thought until my feet hit the bottom of the stairs, and I saw my best friend and his dad flanking my father in the middle of our living room.

  My fully dressed and showered father.

  I blinked, trying to figure out if this was some twisted part of the dream I was still in. I hadn’t seen my dad look this put together in over two years. Hell, I don’t think I had seen him upright this year at all.

  His plaid shirt was wrinkled and too big in places, and I knew the only reason his jeans stayed up was because of the belt cinched tight. But his eyes were open and alert, if a little bloodshot. His dark hair, longer than mine and streaked with silver, was still wet and had been neatly combed, tucked behind his ears.

  And there was a duffel bag at his feet.

  Wary, I leaned against the wall, crossing my ankles and waiting for an explanation.

  “Hi, son.” Dad’s voice had a gravelly rasp from years of alcohol being poured down it.

  “What’s going on?” I asked. I stared at him, raising my brows as I waited for an answer.

  Dad’s fingers twitched nervously at his sides as he let out a long sigh. His head drooped as his eyes went to the floor, unable to meet my gaze.

  Fucking submitting to his own son.

  There was a time my dad had been one of Gabe’s betas, if not his most trusted beta, in Blackwater. Then my mom left and Dad fell apart, leaving the shell of the man standing in front of me now.

  Gabe clapped a firm hand on my father’s bony shoulder, the gesture supportive even as Dad flinched. “Your dad is going away for a bit, Rhodes.”

  “Away?” I repeated.

  Dad lifted his head, and my eyes narrowed at the emotion swirling in his eyes. “I’m going to get help, son. I’m going to get better.”

  I blinked slowly, processing the words. “Better? You’re going to rehab?”

  He nodded. “Gabe helped set it up.”

  Gabe cleared his throat. “There’s a center for shifters in northern California. He’ll go there for treatment for a few weeks. Maybe a few months.” Gabe smiled encouragingly at my dad. “However long it takes for your dad to get back on his feet.”

  I had heard of the place they were talking about. There were a few different rehab facilities around the US run by shifters for shifters. Along with a lot of fun bonus features of being a shifter—increased healing, faster reflexes—also came a barrage of super strong emotions and issues that led to a lot of shifters self-medicating with alcohol and drugs.

  Something stupid that felt a lot like hope swelled in me.

  I squashed it down immediately.

  “Good for you,” I said, keeping my tone even and aloof. Rehab was a new step, but my dad had attempted to get clean several times over the years.

  Considering the empty cans covering every surface and the half-stocked fridge, I wasn’t willing to go all in on his newfound sobriety.

  The worst part was I could see Remy staring at me, trying to figure out where my head was. I loved my best friend, but I didn’t need him here for this. He was my brother in every way but blood, but there were some things he didn’t get about my life, and this was at the top of the list.

  Remy had two amazing parents. He had a big family and never had to teach himself how to cobble together a dinner from stale crackers and flat ginger ale when his dad forgot to go to the store or pay the water bill.

  I knew he wanted me to be happy, or at least optimistic about this, but I had done the hopeful son routine the first three times Dad tried sobriety on. It was one bitter disappointment after the next. Now I focused on moving forward, each day getting me closer to graduation when I could be done with this whole mess and move on.

  Right now, I needed my dad to get out. The sooner he left, the sooner he relapsed, and the sooner my life went back to the tenuous sort of normal I could tolerate.

  “Mallory and I would love for you to come and stay with us while he’s gone,” Gabe offered, but even he knew it was a pointless gesture.

  “I’m fine here,” I replied, folding my arms over my chest.

  Dad stepped forward, his head still bowed. “I’m going to get better. I promise, Rhodes.”

  I might have believed it if I hadn’t heard that at least twenty times in my life. If he hadn’t still flinched when he said my fucking name.

  Rhodes.

  As in Margaret Elizabeth Rhodes.

  My mom’s maiden name.

  Dad had insisted I be named in some way to honor my deadbeat mother before she decided a mate and a kid were too much trouble. The proudest day of his life had been when she took his name. He felt it only right that their son should bear both of their names. Which sounded great until Mommy dearest packed a bag and walked out fourteen years ago.

  Growing up, Dad had rarely called me by my name. It was always ‘son’ or the occasional ‘champ’ when he was really loaded and binge watching sports. Hardly ever Rhodes, and definitely not when he was sober.

  “Good for you, Dad,” I said after a beat, nodding my head. “I hope this works out for you.”

  His face twisted slightly. “For us, son. I’m doing this for us.”

  “Good,” I repeated, not sure what else there was to say. I didn’t have it in me to give him a hug and wish him well. Tell him to, what? Write? Call? Ask me to come visit for family day?

  Not fucking likely.

  “Let’s go, Tom,” Gabe said softly, heading for the door.

  With a nod, my dad followed him. Remy stayed behind, his dark eyes assessing everything like always.

  Dad stopped in the doorway, hesitating a second before he looked back at me. “I’m sorry, Rhodes. For all of it.”

  I nodded once and swallowed hard, shoving down the emotions that tried to bubble to the surface. I hated that deep down, part of me was still that little boy who wanted his dad. The boy who wanted a normal family.

  Most of the time I could ignore Dad or accept his bullshit for what it was. But the apologies always did me in. They were few and far between, only borne of moments of sober clarity when he would look around and realize what he had done. What he had become.

  That usually led to even more drinking.

  Without another word, he ducked out of the house, pulling the front door closed as he went. As soon as it shut, I exhaled loudly.

  “You okay?” Remy asked, his dark eyes searching for any chink in my armor.

  I pushed off the wall and headed for the kitchen. If Dad was going to be gone for a while, I was going to clean this place up.

  “All good,” I replied as I walked away. I went to the sink and opened the door under it, pulling out a bucket and what meager cleaning supplies we had.

  “Do you know if bleach has an expiration date?” I called over my shoulder, studying the white jug for any type of number.

  Remy came in behind me, but stayed in the doorway. “Why don’t you come back to my place for today? We can hang out, play video games.”

  I knelt in front of the open cupboard, pulling out a bottle of green window cleaner I was pretty sure was supposed to be blue. “No, thanks.”

  “Rhodes,” Remy started.

  “Don’t you have a mate you can hang out with?” I cut him off. Maybe bringing up Skye would get him to lay off of me. Sometimes I missed that Remy wasn’t always around the way he had been before Skye came into the picture, but I couldn’t hate how happy she made him.

  Maybe I could distract him by dangling her like a freaking carrot. That usually worked.

  Remy smirked. “She’s with Larkin.”

 
Of course.

  He plowed ahead, knowing that I couldn’t use her as a distraction. “Seriously, let’s just—”

  “Can we not, man?” I cut him off, my spine stiffening as my control started to snap. “I don’t know how long this round of sober Daddy is going to last, so I’d at least like to clean this place before he comes back and adds another layer of aluminum and dirt to it.”

  He fell silent behind me. I knew the alpha in him wanted to help. Hell, I knew the best friend in him wanted to help.

  But right now I felt too volatile. Cleaning with the most abrasive ingredients I could find until I was dizzy off the chemical haze would have to be my distraction. If I were back at GPA, I could probably find a willing female to distract me for a few hours, but right now that wasn’t an option.

  Not that it would have mattered.

  Every girl I hooked up with, there was only one face I saw.

  One face I was trying to escape.

  “Why don’t I help you, and then you can come back to our house for dinner?” Remy counter-offered.

  I growled low in my throat, spinning on the balls of my feet to glare up at him. “Dammit, Rem—“

  “Or you can be the one to tell my mom you’re not coming over,” he finished innocently.

  That shut me up.

  Mallory Holt had all but formally adopted me years ago. She was the closest thing to a mother I had. Odds were if I didn’t make an appearance for her to see me in person today, she would march down here to see for herself.

  I made a face at him. “Threatening me with your mom now?”

  “Whatever it takes,” he replied, arching a brow. “Besides, Skye’s coming over for dinner, too. If she doesn’t see you, you know she’ll be coming over with Mom.”

  Fair enough. Post-abduction and coma, Skye and I had fallen into a somewhat sibling relationship. I knew her well enough to know she would be riding shotgun as Mama-Mallory drove.

  I blew out a long breath. “Fine. But we need to go to the store first for supplies. I’m worried if I mix a couple of these old bottles I’ll blow the damn house up.”

  Remy grinned knowingly, pulling his keys from his pocket. “I’ll drive.”

  2

  Larkin

  Watching my best friend shopping was hands down one of my favorite activities. I almost wished I had brought my camera to capture the wonder on her face as she looked at everything from the fluorescent lights in the ceiling to the marble tiles on the floor inside the mall.

  “It’s so soft,” Skye said almost reverently, touching the silk sleeve of a shirt. She rubbed it between her thumb and index finger.

  I couldn’t stop the smile that pulled on my lips. “You should get it. That red with your dark hair would be gorgeous.”

  Skye immediately dropped it like it was poison and stepped back from the rack of clothes. “I have plenty of shirts.”

  I rolled my eyes at her playfully. “You got a gift card for Christmas,” I reminded her, my eyes dropping to the small crossbody purse she wore. “The point is for you to buy yourself something with it.”

  Skye stepped even further away with a sigh, starting for the exit into the center of the mall.

  I caught up, linking my arm with hers. “What gives, Skywalker?” I couldn’t help myself—I kind of loved the nickname Rhodes had given her.

  She sighed again. How one person could put so much sadness into a single breath, I would never know.

  But then I also had no idea how Skye had survived the hell of her childhood and was still a walking, talking, functioning person.

  “Maybe I’ll get Mom something with it,” she said, hesitating and looking back at the store we had just left.

  I wrinkled my nose. “Didn’t your mom give you the gift card?”

  “Yeah, but she works so hard for her money, and there isn’t anything I need,” Skye argued, her emerald green eyes serious as she looked at me.

  I led her over to a bench and sat us both down, drawing my knee up on the bench and twisting to face her. “Skye, I don’t think you’re quite getting the gift concept. Your mom got you this so you could buy yourself something.”

  Looking down she started playing with the necklace Remy had given her a few days before Christmas at the town tree lighting. She never seemed to take it off. Every day I had seen her before and after the holiday, she had it on.

  She smoothed her thumb over the crescent moon and star pendant I knew was the symbol for the Holt family, and our pack.

  “It just seems like such a waste to buy something because I want it,” she finally admitted, biting her lower lip. She ducked her head, the shiny curtain of brown, almost black, hair covering the side of her face.

  “Skye,” I said slowly, making sure I had her attention, “your mom worked hard so she could do something special for you. If you try to give the gift back or buy her something with it, then it’s like you’re saying she made a mistake giving it to you. You guys went without so much stuff for so long, she wants you to be able to do this.”

  “This?” she repeated, frowning.

  “Go shopping with your friend and buy something just because you like it,” I explained gently. “Normal teenage stuff you missed out on the last few years.”

  “I guess,” she murmured.

  “You know I’m right. If Katy were here, you know she’d slap some sense into you.”

  That made her smile.

  Katy had gone to Alaska to visit her girlfriend, Maren, for the next week. We still had two weeks left until the spring semester at Granite Peak Academy started, and neither girl was willing to go three weeks with only FaceTime and Skype as options. Katy was currently hanging out with Maren and the Brooks Ridge pack, but I knew she was only a phone call away and would set Skye straight.

  Katy had that effect on people.

  I held up my cell phone. “Should I call Katy and see what she says?”

  With a throaty laugh, Skye pushed my phone back down. “No. There was a cute pair of boots I liked in there.”

  I stood up with an affirmative nod. “Yes. Boots. Let’s try them on.”

  Skye frowned as we got up.

  “What?” I asked her as we headed back into the store.

  “Doesn’t it seem weird to know that other people’s feet might have been in your shoes?” she asked curiously. “I wonder who walked in those boots before me.”

  Yeah, shopping with Skye was definitely an experience.

  A half an hour later, Skye was walking out of the store in her new boots. She didn’t want to wait to wear them even if it meant she might have blisters from walking around the mall.

  “So, are we going to talk about the giant ass elephant in the room you seem hell-bent on ignoring?” Skye asked when we stopped at the food court to eat. She sipped her coke, her eyes wide as she looked at me.

  “I’m not hell-bent,” I muttered, taking a bite of my hotdog.

  “You went on a date with Kyle and Konnor last night,” she reminded me, leaning back in her chair. “I want details.”

  “It was fun. I had a nice time,” I told her, my voice just this side of prim.

  “Nice?” she echoed, her nose wrinkling. “That sounds … hot, Lark.”

  I threw up my hands. “What do you want me to say? We went to dinner, went to a movie, and then I went home.”

  “There was no repeat kissing sans mistletoe?” she asked, quirking a brow and reminding me of the tree lighting where the twins managed to maneuver me under a sprig of mistletoe and kissed me.

  I was too shocked to say no. Plus, I wanted to be kissed.

  The disappointment that followed on the heels of both kisses, was more shocking than the actual kisses themselves.

  Probably because as nice and cute as Kyle and Konnor were, they weren’t him. And those weren’t the lips I wanted on mine.

  “There was no kissing,” I confirmed, not wanting to admit that was because I all but jumped out of the car when they pulled up the curb by my house. I was worried a repeat kiss would be even more disappointing than the ones at the tree lighting.

  I did have a nice time. Kyle and Konnor were great guys. They were kind, considerate, and definitely interested in me.

  But neither guy was the one I wanted.

  I ran into my house, praying Rhodes didn’t see me getting out of their car. After changing, I decided to practice my snow angel technique in the yard, hoping the crisp air would give me the clarity to stop wanting what I clearly couldn’t have.