With my alpha right on the other side of the room, it became hard to bear.
I’d put a turkey pot pie into the oven along with some vegetables to roast. While that cooked, I went about my day as best I could—as I would if I were alone again.
I typed in orders, surprising myself on how much further ahead I was than the year before. A few days after the new year, I would receive a bunch of shipments and would be prepared through spring.Easter was big for me, and there were always lots of mating ceremonies and weddings then as well.
While I was on my laptop, I brainstormed some cookie designs and even created a new recipe.
Ripley was tucked into my favorite chair near the fire, but looking at him over the screen, it seemed he belonged there. It fit him, even more than it did me. He scrolled through his phone but never cracked a smile. His face was unreadable.
I fought back the tears, churning through the events of the last couple of days.
He helped me. I helped him. I let him stay here. Fed him. He kissed me and even flirted a little bit.
He’d been brooding at first. Warm and kind in the middle. And now, he was prickly and standoffish. He was a confusing sandwich kind of male.
The timer on my phone went off. Ripley glanced my way, and I moved wordlessly to get the food from the oven. I popped some biscuits in to bake while I put the roasted vegetables in a serving dish. Even if Ripley didn’t want me, I would treat him as a treasured mate while he was here.
Treat him the way I would want to be treated if the roles were reversed.
Soon I was turning out hot, buttery biscuits onto a plate. “Dinner is ready if you’re hungry.”
He nodded but looked to the fire, consulting with it. Over what, I wished I knew. “How could I not be hungry with your cooking? It’s all incredible. Even the oatmeal this morning. Mine is always bland and pasty.”
My chest warmed, hearing his praise. Praise over my skills in the kitchen was, of course, important to me. I wanted him to enjoy my meals and find comfort in them, even if he wouldn’t share what he was being comforted about. “The secret is a bit of heavy cream and brown sugar. Come eat while it’s hot.”
I sat and plated up two bowls of pot pie with a side plate of roasted carrots and cauliflower of all colors and sizes. Purple carrots, cauliflower, and sweet potatoes were my favorite.
“Thank you. I’ve been existing on boxed pasta meals and frozen burgers for a while.”
I shrugged. “I like frozen burger patties. They can be seasoned up, and they make a quick meal.”
Ripley snickered. “Yeah, but I just eat them between two slices of white bread. It’s kind of pitiful now that I think about it.”
“Is there a reason you don’t take care of yourself, alpha?” The last word slipped from my mouth, again, and while I hadn’t meant to say it, there was nothing unnatural about it.
“What makes you think I don’t take good care of myself?” he asked and then moaned over a bite of the meal.
“You drive long distances when there’s a snowstorm approaching. You tried to sleep in your car in the winter. You’ve just admitted to not cooking healthy meals for yourself. You…” I choked on the last part. “You deny yourself pleasure. Want to tell me why?”
His deep eyes met mine and at first, I thought asking had been a mistake. “My twin was killed many years ago…on Christmas day.”
That one sentence explained a lot. My heart broke for him. I reached over the table and covered his hand with mine. I expected him to pull away but instead, he turned his hand over and embraced mine. “How?” I asked.
“He fell through the ice on a frozen lake and drowned. We were just kids. I wasn’t there with him. I was always with him, except then.”
There were things I could say. Things I’d heard others say in these kinds of situations.
“You must’ve been shattered.”
He nodded. “I was. I am. I remember staring at the Christmas tree thinking that others around the world were celebrating and opening presents and being happy while my brother was dead. I dragged the damned thing outside and burned it.”
The alpha’s disdained for Christmas and his grumbles about my decorated house all made sense now. He equated the holiday with loss and pain and emptiness.
“I might’ve reacted the same way.”
“When I look in the mirror, it’s him I see. Every day is a reminder that he’s gone.”
I wanted to crawl into his lap and soothe him. Hold him tight and try to fit his broken pieces back together.
