“Tomorrow?”
“That’s what I said,” she snaps back. I bite down on my lip and wince at the broken flesh there.
Declan starts the drive home with a shit-eating grin on his face. Elena is calm and relaxed in the seat next to me, and I don’t know how to handle all the different emotions running through my head.
The combination of pheromones, alcohol, and medication must really be getting to me because suddenly, I feel at peace.
My stomach growls, ruining my one moment of not feeling anything, and I groan.
“I thought we were going to get food,” I complain from the backseat. Declan mumbles under his breath.
“I am hungry,” Elena adds in softly.
“Fucking fine,” he grumbles, heading toward a twenty-four-hour pizza place.
Elena gives me a conspiratorial wink, and something tight releases in my chest. Maybe this won’t be as bad as I thought.
Maybe I can change.
26
ELENA
I don’t knowwhat it was about going to my father’s grave, but it was the clarity I needed. Plus, my steady stream of suppressants.
It’s more so lunch time, instead of breakfast when everyone gathers in the dining room. Everyone stayed up a little too late, even after getting back home.
In fact, Lorcán is just now walking through the door, looking worse for wear. I know I likely don’t have any right, but I scent him, and I’m instantly filled with the gratification that he only carries his own scent. Despite the fact I’m on the path of forgiveness, that is something I wouldn’t tolerate.
His eyes meet mine, and there seems to be an apology in them. We can talk privately later, and I make that clear in the look I give him.
Maeve sets out sandwiches, fruit, and drinks on the table.
“Glad to see you at the table with your clothes on,” she tells me, and I smile.
The old woman is endearing herself to me. Maybe it’s because I don’t have a mother of my own, or at least I haven’t in a while. She might be direct and crass, but her blunt nature is comforting.
“I’m glad you're clothed too, Maeve,” I respond, which garners a smile from the old woman before she walks away.
“Lorcán, how nice of you to join us,” Cillian states with an attitude.
I want to roll my eyes but keep my thoughts to myself. While I might be an addition to this pack, it’s clear that they aren’t much of a pack to begin with. There’s so much history, hurt, and frustration with one another.
I’m not sure where I fall in all that, but I’m hoping that we can all help each other heal to some degree. I see us for what we are: five broken people looking for some salvation.
“I lost my phone,” Lorcán grunts as he fills his plate and downs a glass of water.
“Oh, wonderful. So you don’t know that Finn gave Elena the keys to his BMW and told her to leave, which she did. Or that we got a call from a police officer to pick her up late last night,” Cillian explains, and this time, I do roll my eyes.
“That’s an over-exaggeration,” I mumble, and Cillian hits me with a stern look.
I should hate it, I should hate his controlling, bossy side. But the truth is that I missed it. I miss how we were at the club, and I recognize his frustration for what it is—he cares about me.
“Can I start my meeting?”
“Floor is yours,” Cillian grumbles.
I decide to stand because I need to drive the point home. Also, everyone at this table is much bigger than me, and I feel like I have more authority while standing. All four of them have their eyes on me.
