One more kiss, then Sara stepped away, their hands staying connected until the last possible moment. It hurt to turn away, but neither of them had a choice. With a heavy heart, Sara went inside without looking back. The pub was busier than she’d expected, and the voices startled her, not having heard them while they were outside.
She moved quickly between the tables until she reached the entrance, only slowing down when she made it to the car park. The fresh air hit her, snatching away some of Rachel’s scent, and Sara’s heart stuttered. It clung to her clothes and her skin now, but soon enough it would fade.
Like their potential bond.
No. Her grandmother and Alpha Harley would find a way to make this all okay.
They had to.
With a deep breath, she squared her shoulders and walked across the car park, pausing by Alpha Harley’s car. He was the only one stood beside it. “She’ll be along in a minute. She’s gone to the bathroom.”
“Okay.” He smiled at her. “I hope we see you again soon, Sara.”
She nodded. “Me too.”
Her grandmother waited at the side of her car, and when Sara reached her, Celia tugged her close and wrapped her arms around her, not saying a word. She’d be able to smell Rachel all over her, would know what they’d done, but Sara couldn’t bring herself to care.
After a few moments, Celia stepped back and squeezed her shoulder. “Let’s go home.”
Home? Sara wasn’t sure she knew where that was anymore.
It’s wherever Rachel is.
Pushing that thought to the back of her mind, she smiled. “Yeah. Okay.”
“THERE, GET THAT down you.” Celia set the mug down in front of her.
“Soup? I’m not ill.” Sara rolled her eyes but then smiled as she pulled it closer. “Ooh, chicken.”
Celia patted her on the arm and winked. “Grandmother knows best.”
The soup was delicious, but it’d been four hours since they’d been at the pub, and Sara was itching to talk about it. “What did you and Alpha Wallace discuss after the pub?” As soon as they’d got home, Celia had left to go see her.
“You know I can’t talk about council business,” she chided gently.
Sara sighed. “I know, but…” But what? “Never mind.”
Taking the chair next to her, Celia patted her hand. “I shouldn’t even tell you this, but—” she shared a conspiratorial smile and shrugged “—it concerns you, so… I’ve issued a formal request for your father to come here.”
Sara set her mug down and turned to face her. “Will he come?”
“It’s an official request. He’ll come.”
“And then what?”
“Then I talk to him.”
Sara wanted to ask more, wanted to know what they’d talk about, how her grandmother planned to get him to change his mind. But from the look on her face, it would be pointless—she’d told Sara as much as she was going to. “When?”
“A week from today.”
