I don’t go to Sloane’s right away. Instead, I work out to relieve some more tension before going home and packing a small bag in hopes that she asks me to stay the night.
I have even higher hopes that she agrees to come and move in with me. Her apartment is way too small, and if we finish the basement of this house, I’d be able to build her the nest she deserves and two more bedrooms. That would give the three of us our own rooms, a pack bedroom, plus a guest room.
The fact that Max is not in my building plans is not lost on me, and I sigh, knowing it's inevitable.
Maybe I’m bitter that I’m not Sloane’s scent match.
If anyone should be her scent match, it should fucking be me. Max has no clue what he’s doing, and Sloane deserves Alphas who know how to take care of her.
Hell, in my eyes, Ethan is more capable than Max will ever be.
Another pang of jealousy fills me.
Max fucked Ethan.
Max fucked Ethan before I could fuck Ethan.
I groan and sit on my couch, wondering if I’m even capable of taking the high road. How do I keep Sloane happy? How do I keep myself happy?
Maybe I need therapy, or maybe we need pack therapy.
Because I can’t keep Sloane happy if I’m constantly riddled with jealousy, bitterness, and resentment.
But the idea of saying what started this resentment is embarrassing. Almost as embarrassing as needing therapy before we’re even bonded.
I’m about to text Sloane to see if she needs anything before I head over when there’s a knock on my door. I heft myself up off the couch and open the door to find a watery-eyed Sloane and Ethan’s very full truck in my driveway.
“So is that offer to move in still good?” she asks, and I blink at her with surprise.
“Of course it is. What happened?”
She sucks her teeth and sighs. “My dad might have fired me,” she says as I grab the tote bag off of her shoulder.
“He what?”
“To be fair, I did break all of my promises I made to him when starting the job. But also, I was great at what I did. He’s handling this whole thing poorly, and I’m an adult who can make my own choices. So I’m choosing not to live there anymore as long as the offer is still on the table.”
“Yes, come in,” I tell her as I look her over.
She looks exhausted. I cup my hands on her face and stroke her cheekbones with my thumbs.
“What do you need?” I ask her.
She just wraps her arms around my waist and smothers me in a tight hug.
“I just need my pack,” she says.
“Tell Max he is invited over, then.”
Sloane pulls back, and the tears in her eyes really well. “Really?”
“I mean an extra hand to move all your shit into your new house wouldn’t hurt.”
She wraps her arms around me and squeezes tightly.
“Thank you for trying. It means everything to me,” she says.
My chest rumbles from her words, and she doesn’t let me go. I missed her today so much. And now she’s moving into my home.
