“Away?” he asked.
“From everything,” I answered.
He nodded and started to drive.
Soon we were pulling up outside Heaven’s Bar.
“Here again?” I asked.
“Frankie is Pack Sandstorm; it’s kind of unofficially sponsored by the Pack,” Darren explained as we walked towards the entrance.
Inside, I was surprised that we weren’t the only customers. Darren sat us at a small table in the back.
“You need food and hydration,” he told me. “Got any allergies I should know about before I order?” he asked.
I shook my head.
“Great, I’ll be back in a few,” he said, and I watched as he made his way to the bar to place an order.
He returned carrying two glasses of orange juice.
“Here you go,” he said, placing the drink in front of me.
“Thanks,” I said. I was thirsty.
“Do you want to talk about it?” he asked.
“Who’s Andrew?” I asked.
Darren set his glass down.
“Is he there?” he asked.
“Yeah,” I said.
“Did he say something to you? Is that what’s wrong?” he asked.
“No, I mean, he obviously doesn’t like me. I was just caught off guard, I guess,” I said and felt embarrassed. What must he have thought of me?
Was I meant to tell Darren that his aunt and I were true mates, that she was inside me last night, and that I woke up alone this morning and found her fiancé, whom I had no knowledge of, standing in the living room?
I couldn’t tell Darren the truth. But without the truth, I must have seemed like an emotionally dysregulated omega. Go me, living up to the stereotype!
“He’s a douche,” Darren said. “He catches everyone off guard every time he speaks. I don’t know if I’m being insulted—it feels like an insult.”
“How did Cole and he even meet?” I asked.
Darren looked away like he was guilty of something.
A waiter brought out two overly large plates, a fry-up of bacon, sausage, eggs, and pancakes with syrup, placing them in front of us.
“Need anything else?” the waiter asked.
“No thanks,” Darren answered and took a drink of his orange juice.
“It’s my fault,” he said.
“What’s your fault?” I asked.
