Paul.
"God, you look like your mother."
Obviously that's not meant to be a compliment. I can smell the scotch on his breath from across the room. He always starts talking about her when he's drunk.
I ignore him and flip aimlessly through the TV channels. It's better to let him get it out without talking back. I don't really feel like fighting right now.
"She was a whore then and she's a whore now," he grumbles, tipping his head back for another drink. "You're probably not even my kid."
But I am, unfortunately. At some point during their custody battle, he had to get a paternity test done to confirm it, and DNA doesn't lie. Not a day goes by that I wish that stupid fucking test didn't link us together. Mom wasn't a good parent either, but she was a better one than him.
At least, that's what I thought, until she dropped all contact with me.
Maybe they're both just pieces of shit.
My phone starts buzzing in my pocket. I've learned to keep it on vibrate unless I wanna piss my old man off even more. I wait until I'm in my bedroom to flip it open.
"Hello?"
"Hi, Paul…" It's McKayla.
We haven't really talked the last few days. What she did crushed me, and the fact that she went with Yocum to do it makes it even worse.
"Hey," I reply quietly, taking a seat on the edge of my bed.
There's a moment of silence before I hear her take a deep breath. "I… don't know how to say this." But she doesn't have to. I already know exactly where this is going by the tone of her voice.
"Just get it over with."
"I'm falling for someone else."
"Yocum," I correct.
She doesn't say anything for a minute. "You and I want different things."
I snort. "Clearly."
"You couldn't have expected me to raise a child at sixteen."
"No, I expected us to raise a child. Together. Our baby," I growl. "And then you had Yocum take you to the clinic!"
"It's my body, Paul. My choice."
"Yeah, but that kid was mine too!"
She makes a frustrated sound. "What's done is done. I just wanted to properly end things between us."
"Yeah, properly. Over the phone." I run a hand through my hair and then cover my eyes with it. "Bye, McKayla."
She hangs up without another word and I launch my phone at the wall, watching it shatter into pieces that spill across the floor. My skin feels like it's on fire with rage, and I can hear my old man walking this way down the hall.
If he wants a fight, I'll give him one, because now I'm in the mood.
He throws the door open, scotch in hand, and eyes me with amusement.
I stare back at him.
"Just gonna ignore me, boy? Nothin' to say? Funny, since you can't ever seem to shut the hell up talkin' to that girl."
I try and count to five on my inhales, five on my exhales. If he hits me first, it's self-defense if I kill him.
He points at me drunkenly, taking another swig off the bottle. "So she killed your kid? You're better off. Wish your mom would've done it."
My hands start shaking. No, not just my hands, my entire body starts shaking – uncontrollably. "Shut the fuck up," I growl, hands balling into fists at my sides.
He wipes the back of his wrist across his mouth. "What'd you say to me, boy? In my house?!"
"I told you to shut the fuck up!" I yell again, blood boiling.
Something is wrong. My ears are hot and I can't stop shaking. My vision is red, and there's a burning sensation tingling down my spine.
"Say it again and you'll wish your mother had done it."
My eyes blink open to the dimly lit room.
When I used to wake up from that dream, I'd be shaking with rage. Now, I just wake up. It's anticlimactic, but I feel calm. It doesn't make me as angry anymore – not since I've let that part of my life go.
I turn my head to look at Indie.
Not since she accepted me for what I am.
I study her delicate features – softer with sleep. The girl is a literal angel.
The sun is slowly starting to rise, casting a deep glow through the open balcony door. We've been keeping it open the last few nights, because I like her in my arms and it gets too hot with my temperature if we don't.
Her lips are pouty with sleep, eyelashes draped softly over the tops of her cheeks.
My heart hurts for this beautiful girl.
All the shit she's had to deal with, all the shit she's gone through – why the fuck does bad shit happen to good people? I deserved all the bad shit that's happened to me, but her? She didn't deserve any of it. And I fucked up and let my disappointment show the other night and then she thought I would actually wish she wasn't my imprint anymore. She's already had so much shit happen to her and then I fucked up and made her feel even worse.
I tuck her hair behind her ear and watch her stir slightly, snuggling into me a little more.
Of course I'd love to have kids with this beautiful woman, but I don't need kids. I need her. I know she knows that. She has to know that.
I pull her closer and tuck my chin over her head.
I've had that same shitty dream every night since that night – but it's not her fault, it's his.
My old man's. Because the old, senile fuck actually remembered me when I went to check on him that night.
I had every intention of telling Indie about it when I got back – every intention of coming clean and confessing – but when I heard her crying in the shower my head went blank and all I could think about was making her feel better. Then, when I thought about it a little more the next day, I decided against it.
The guy looks like shit.
There's no way he'll live much longer. No one talks about him and everyone in the pack knows to keep their fucking mouths shut. Like I said before, I'll explain everything to her after he dies, which will hopefully be soon.
I try to fall back asleep, but fail miserably, which is fine because I have to take Indie to work at five anyways.
Her phone alarm goes off at 4:45 AM on the dot and she jolts awake, shutting it off and rubbing her eyes.
"Morning," I hum quietly.
She smiles at me sleepily and crawls out of bed, her naked silhouette moving across the floor to the bathroom. She disappears behind the door, which I had to replace, and I'm left alone with a hardening dick.
It doesn't matter how much or how little bare skin she shows – I'm instantly hard either way.
I remember Sam and Jared talking about how hard it was to stop fucking so much when they first marked their imprints, but I didn't realize it would be this hard. And my time off patrol is slowly coming to an end and I have no idea how I'm supposed to go back to it without constantly worrying and thinking about her all the time.
The sink turns on and I can hear her brushing her teeth.
I check the time again – 4:50 AM. Ten minutes until she has to be there. Three minute drive. Five minutes for her to get dressed and ready.
Fuck, I definitely don't have enough time to fuck her before she has to be at work.
I roll over and groan into my pillow, shifting my hips to lift some of the tension off my erection.
Indie comes out of the bathroom a minute later and pads over to where her folded clothes are sitting on top of the dresser. I don't know why we're still pretending she lives with Josie. She's here practically every single night and just grabs a change of clothes every day after work. Half her wardrobe is here now, which I fucking love. I should just officially ask her to move in with me, but Em said I should give her a little time. A lot of new information has been put on the table for her the last couple of weeks.
I get that, but I want her to know she always has a home with me.
The bed sinks a little next to me as she kneels on it, kissing the back of my head. "I can walk if you're too tired," she says softly.
I push myself up immediately. "I'm never too tired to make sure you're safe," I reply, kissing her sloppily before rolling out of bed and pulling on some sweats. I don't bother with a shirt and fish my keys out from the jeans I wore yesterday, stuffing them in my pocket.
She's a morning person – I'm definitely not. There's a spring to her step as we walk down the stairs while I shuffle along and practically drag my feet. I'm used to patrolling until seven, but then I would pass out and sleep basically until dinner if I could. That was when Rachel and I were still faking it.
Now, I'm in charge of my dad when Jasmine is unavailable, the return of my patrol schedule is on the horizon, and I like to be there next to Indie when she sleeps. My schedule is about to get all fucked up again.
I drop her off at the front, leaning over the center console to kiss her one last time before I don't see her for a few hours, and watch her walk inside where Ms. Call is standing at the front counter.
Leah's still up in Tacoma with Jesse.
He's been texting me, asking about land to build a house on down here. I told him I could get him a permit pretty quick under my old man's company if he was serious, but that he has to move fast before the rain hits.
I used to envy Jesse.
He was never tied down to one place, but stayed there just because he liked it. Worked odd construction jobs here and there, apprenticed as an electrician, lived pretty much carefree because his parents were supportive and weren't pieces of shit.
He's a good guy – always has been and always will be. I think he'll be good for Leah.
Before heading to my old man's, I decide to stop by Emily's to check in and see how things are going. Once they got over the little blip in the road, the babies have calmed down substantially and she's finally getting into the swing of motherhood.
It looks good on her.
I walk in through the kitchen and find her sitting at the table with a cup of coffee and a magazine. She holds her finger to her lips and points down the hall. I nod and take a seat next to her.
"How are you?" she asks quietly, taking a sip of her coffee with a smile.
"Exhausted," I admit. More mentally than physically. I've only phased twice in the last week and have gotten plenty of sleep, but it's all the other stuff that's fucking me up.
She frowns and rests her hand on top of mine. "You should take Indie and do something fun," she suggests. "Go on a date. Before patrol starts back up."
I smile a little and chuckle. "A date, huh?"
"Something where there's not a lot of people, so she can focus on just the two of you."
Naturally, the second I phased the first thought the guys picked up on was the one about Indie's ability to feel other people's emotions. I felt like shit letting it slip and immediately told her when I got home, but she just laughed when I added that Jared asked if that meant she was a human polygraph.
It was kind of funny.
"Would you consider hiking a date?" I ask her. My first thought was that I still need to take Indie to see the whales, and I'll hike up there every damn day if I have to.
Em smiles and squeezes my hand before turning back to her magazine. "Anything can be a date as long as you announce it as one," she replies.
We both laugh a little and I stand up to get a water from the fridge, uncapping it and chugging half of it in one go.
"There's a Dr. Pepper in there for you," Em says.
I pull the fridge back open and search through it before finding the can hidden away in the back corner behind a jar of salsa. "Thanks, Em," I reply, chuckling as I pull it from the fridge. It's never too early for a Dr. Pepper.
Taking a seat back at the table, I crack the can open and take a sip before sinking into my seat a little.
"Paul, I wanted to ask you something," she says, closing her magazine and setting her coffee mug down.
My gut drops a little because Emily never really looks this serious about anything unless she's really mad or really concerned.
She immediately notices my apprehension and laughs, waving it off. "Nothing bad. It's just, you know Sam and I are planning on having our wedding in December. I just wondered if you would be willing to walk me down the aisle."
Both of Emily's parents died in the last few years, so all she has left is us here on the reservation.
"I asked Aunt Sue as well, but I told her I would be asking you, too. It would be lovely if you could both walk me."
"Yeah, Em, of course I'll walk you down the aisle," I tell her, standing up to give her a hug.
She laughs happily and wraps her arms around me, rubbing my back. "I'm going to ask Indie if she will be one of my bridesmaids," she tells me as we break apart and I sit back down. "I've already asked Leah to be my maid of honor."
I take another drink of my soda and laugh. "Okay, this is getting pretty girly for me," I admit jokingly.
"Which is exactly why I didn't ask you to be my maid of honor," she replies, playfully raising her eyebrows as she lifts her mug again.
We fall back into a comfortable silence while I drink my soda and she glances at me over the rim of her cup. She holds it carefully with two hands and gives me a gentle look with a small half-smile.
"Are you going to your father's?" she asks me cautiously.
My stomach sinks. I really fucking hope he doesn't remember me today. "Yeah," I reply, voice thick as I nod. "Jasmine's day off."
She sighs. "You should really tell Indiana…"
I fight to hold back a glare.
A tiny part of me, somewhere buried deep inside, knows she's right. I literally started off our relationship with a lie, but I did it with good intentions. When I eventually tell Indie the truth, I hope she'll understand that.
By some stroke of luck, he doesn't remember me when I walk in. At least, not as Paul.
Dealing with him at all sucks, but it's easier when he thinks I'm Callan. From somewhere in the depths of that head of his, he pulled my middle name and created an entire other person with it – one he likes, since he never liked me.
"I still don't like that new girl," he tells me, hand shaking and causing the coffee in his mug to slosh.
I roll my eyes and take the cup from him, walking into the kitchen and dumping the contents into a bigger tumbler. "Yeah, Pa, you told me," I grumble when I hand his coffee back.
He licks his lips noisily – which is like nails on a chalkboard to me – and takes a drink. "Well, do something about it. Call Rachel," he demands.
"I'm not calling Rachel. I already told you."
"Well she was here the other day. Don't see why she can't come every day."
I freeze and grind my teeth together. "When was she here, Pa?" I ask.
"I don't know, the other day," he repeats. "Told me your shit dad said I don't need her 'round no more. Well, I do, so I'm gonna fire the other girl."
I can feel the tips of my fingers starting to tingle. Curling them into my palms, I clench my fists at my sides before slowly stalking off into the other room. Once out of sight, I immediately pull my phone out and send a text to Rachel.
/
To: Rachel
Message: Ur crossing a line. Back off and don't show up at my old man's anymore
/
I hit send, nearly seething, and stare at my phone screen until she replies.
/
From: Rachel
Message: There's no reason I can't help. He doesn't like Jasmine.
/
To: Rachel
Message: Not ur place. Back off
/
From: Rachel
Message: Get off your high horse. You act like you'd rather be the one dealing with him and we all know that's not true.
/
To: Rachel
Message: Doesn't matter. I'm not asking u, I'm telling
/
She doesn't reply for another five minutes, and when she does I wish she hadn't.
/
From: Rachel
Message: Speaking of telling… Oops
/
Something about that message makes my blood feel cold.
I try texting back. I try calling.
Nothing.
No response.
Either she's fucking with me or she fucked up – and either way she clearly doesn't want to admit it.
I finally give up by the tenth call when it goes straight to voicemail.
She fucking turned her phone off.
Bitch.
"The hell are you doin', Callan?!" Pa yells from his spot in the kitchen. "Go get the paper from the driveway!"
Growling under my breath, I shove my phone back into my pocket and walk out to get his damn paper. Whichever kid is doing the delivery route didn't even make an effort today – the paper is just dropped in the middle of the road in front of the house. I scoop it up and take a look around before going back inside.
Once he has both the paper and his coffee, he's lost to the world. He'll read that same paper all fucking day as if there's something different in it when he rereads it every hour.
Whatever, I can get behind whatever keeps him quiet.
I fall onto the couch in the living room and switch the TV on. There's nothing really on, so I mindlessly channel surf until I stumble across the original Jurassic Park movie. It's already an hour into it, but I don't care. I drop the remote and sink into the cushion to finish it, listening to my old man flip the pages of his paper every few minutes.
Turns out it's a Jurassic Park marathon, so I watch all three movies and the two remakes, which sucks up all the remaining time I had before Indie is off work and Sue comes to take over for me.
Relatively easy day, thankfully. After that shit with Rachel earlier, I was on edge and ready to snap at any minute.
I head to the coffee shop to pick up Indie, but when I get there she's not waiting on the bench for me like she usually is. Brows scrunched together, I put the 4Runner in park and hop out.
Ms. Call is still working and is cleaning one of the machines when I walk inside. "Hey, Paul, how are you?" she asks, slinging the rag over her shoulder.
"I'm good. Hey, is Indie still here?"
She makes a face. "No, actually I let her off a little early today. She didn't look like she was feeling well."
Worry initially strikes, then panic. She never texted or called me to come get her. Come to think of it, she hasn't said a word to me all day. I thought maybe work was just busy, but if she got off early, then…
Once outside, I pull my phone out and immediately dial her number.
It rings for so long it almost goes to voicemail before she finally answers at the last second.
"I don't want to talk right now," she says. "I'm fine. I'll talk to you later."
Fuck.
My stomach ties up in knots.
Rachel.
I scroll through for Rachel's contact and hit the call button.
This time, it rings, and she answers.
"What did you say to Indiana?" I hiss before she even has a chance to say anything. "What part of 'let it go' did you not understand, Rachel?"
"In my defense, it wasn't like I knew you never told her I helped with your dad."
Oh, fuck.
My head falls back and I shut my eyes. "You said something about my dad?" I groan.
"I assumed when you said you found someone else to help with him that it was her."
Shit, shit, shit.
I gotta do damage control. I hang up on Rachel and try Indie again, but this time it goes to voicemail.
If she's pissed at me – which I know she is, obviously – she's definitely not going to be at my place, so I get back in my car and start the drive to Josie's.
This relatively easy day is about to get so much harder.
A/N: Draaamaaaa. Serves you right, Paul. Kind of a short chapter, sorry, but hopefully still enjoyable! Leave me a review if you have a sec :) thanks for reading! xx