SADIE
"So... you guys live on the first floor?"
Walker and Nash both nod.
Their names are going to take some getting used to. Gargoyle One and Gargoyle Two came surprisingly easily, but since they’ve both settled into my room, first names seem appropriate now.
Nash is at my reading desk, sitting backward on the chair with his arms folded across the backrest. His broad shoulders make the chair look undersized and he’s brown-skinned, with short curly hair.
Walker has taken over the space beside my wardrobe. He’s blonde and noticeably bulkier, but with a face I’d expect to see in a boy band before I’d ever guess a jock.
"And you’re both on the hockey team?" I ask.
"Forward." Nash points to himself before jerking a thumb toward Walker. "Defenseman."
I know embarrassingly little about hockey, but the names seem straightforward enough. Nash goes forward. Walker defends. I’m sure there are several important details missing between those two conclusions, but I’ll worry about those if hockey ever becomes relevant to my life.
Hockey explains how they met, but now I’m curious how the three of them ended up this close.
"Are you guys, like, Trey’s best friends?"
"Just me," Nash answers without hesitation, a playful smirk pulling at his mouth as he points toward Walker. "He’s more of a tagalong."
Walker rolls his eyes before looking at me. "For the record, I’m the one who introduced this fucker to T."
I cover my mouth as I laugh, only to stop when the movement sends a dull ache through my stomach. At this point, I’m beginning to regret ever turning twenty-one. Nothing has gone right since then.
"You had a roommate before this?" Nash shifts in his seat. "And you ditched her to live here?"
"I wouldn’t call it ditching." I sink farther into the pillows. "But yeah."
"How mad is she?"
"Lola?" I shake my head. "She’ll probably invite herself over by tomorrow."
He leans farther over the back of the chair. "And Ezra? He’s okay with the arrangement too?"
The question shouldn’t bother me, but hearing his name still leaves a bitter taste in my mouth.
"Ezra and I are done. I guess Trey left that part out?"
"But you’re living with his brother now," Walker cuts in. "No way your ex is chill about that."
"So?" Why should I care about that anymore? "He’s a jerk. He can be pissed."
Nash accepts that with a thoughtful little nod before finding the next gap in my social life. "Guy friends?"
"Also no."
"Damn. You need better social diversification."
I’m beginning to feel personally attacked by this conversation. "I have Lola. She counts for several people."
His mouth curves, but he doesn’t argue, so at least Lola’s worth has been properly recognized.
"We should—"
"Why are you two still here?"
All three of us turn toward the door.
Trey is back, a paper food bag hanging from one hand while his attention passes between Nash and Walker. A slight frown confirms they’ve overstayed their welcome before he tips his head toward the hallway.
"It’s midnight. Coach wants us at six tomorrow."
Nash checks his watch. "Dude, just say you want us out."
"I want both of you out."
Well. He did ask.
Walker pushes away from the wardrobe with a sigh while Nash hauls himself out of my chair. He gives me a lazy two-finger salute on his way to the door, and Walker follows him into the hallway.
I have no idea how much we’ll run into each other with them living downstairs, but I wouldn’t mind if it happened often. Nash especially. Talking to him is easy and I don’t usually do that with people I’ve only just met.
Trey steps farther into the room once they’re gone.
"You have cool friends," I tell him. "Nash is my favorite."
He walks over and holds the paper bag out to me. "They’re not single."
My hand reaches it before the completely unrelated piece of information finally makes sense.
Seriously? I compliment one of his friends and he immediately assumes I’m trying to date him? I know my romantic life has been humiliating lately, but I didn’t realize I was giving off any available man will do now.
"What’s this?" I ask instead, eyeing him.
"Dinner. Finish it."
"I’m not hungry. You can have it."
"You need to eat."
I look up at him. "Why?"
"You didn’t drink two bottles of orange juice for the vitamins, did you?"
Okay, fair point. I was starving. Still am, actually.
I take the bag from him and settle it on my lap, finding the food inside still warm. He either found somewhere open at midnight or reheated it before bringing it in here, both of which required effort.
Hopefully this is leading up to an apology, because if dinner is supposed to make up for nearly killing me, we have a problem.
"I forgot to tell you about the drinks," he says, stepping back. "The orange juice in the clear bottles has suppressant in it. Don’t touch those. Everything else is fine."
That sounds like the part right before I’m sorry, so I wait. And wait.
Trey just stands there until my delusions wear off.
Seriously? That was the whole thing?
If I nearly knocked someone out because I forgot to tell them what was in a drink, I’d be saying sorry until they told me to shut up. So why can’t he?
Goddess, he really is Ezra’s brother.
Ezra did the same crap. He’d do something shitty, decide it wasn’t actually that shitty, and that meant I wasn’t allowed to be upset about it anymore.
Maybe the Mercer family tree just doesn’t grow apologies. Or maybe people who grow up knowing they’re above almost everyone else eventually forget what it feels like to be kind.
"Thanks for this." I lift the bag grudgingly. "Good night."
I even give him the very generous opportunity to take good night for what it is: a dismissal.
He doesn’t.
Instead, I get the food out and lift my head to find him watching me.
What now? Is he waiting for me to eat?
"Is there something else?" I ask.
"How come you’ve never tried finding out about your family?"
My fingers stop halfway under the edge of the lid.
What is with all the questions tonight?
I’m not sure why he suddenly cares about my parents, but there isn’t much of a story to tell anyway.
"Because they didn’t want me." I peel back the lid. "They left me outside an orphanage when I was a baby with nothing that could tell me who they were. All I had was a hairpin and what I was told was the name they picked for me."
His brows pull together. "A hairpin?"
"Yeah." I shrug.
Lola and Ezra are the only people I’ve ever told about it, which now makes Trey the third. Lola cried when she found out, Ezra called it unfortunate and moved on, and Trey...well, I can’t tell what he thinks. His face gives me nothing.
After a moment, he gestures toward the food. "Eat. Good night."
He turns to leave, but after everything that’s happened today, there’s one question I’m not going to bed without asking.
"Trey?"
He glances back.
"Is there anything else in this apartment I’m not supposed to eat or drink?"
"No. Just the orange juice. Everything else is fine."
Good. I’d prefer tomorrow’s breakfast not to give me green ears.
"Okay."
He gives a small nod before walking out and pulling the door shut behind him. I finally open the container on my lap to find a Buffalo chicken wrap with fries inside. So much for not being hungry, because one look at the food has my stomach rumbling again.
I steal a fry first. You’d think my green eyes would give me enough to think about for one night, but the doctor said I’m fine and they should change back, so I’m going to enjoy that reassurance while it lasts. I have enough problems without collecting imaginary ones too. For all I know, my mysterious family could have a long history of heart attacks and here I am worrying myself toward the family tradition.
I’ll pick my battles.
Another fry disappears before one part of the doctor’s explanation comes back to me.
Unmated Alphas.
Trey has an Alpha wolf, right? The suppressant is obviously his. He needs it because he’s still unmated.
Bless the Goddess for statistics.
I pick up another fry, turning that over in my head.
It’s a little surprising. He’s twenty-two, heir to one of the biggest packs around, and popular enough that people know who he is well beyond Boreal. There’s certainly no shortage of women around him either.
Not that any of that matters when it comes to finding a mate. The Goddess chooses who she chooses, and I doubt popularity earns anyone special treatment.
Still, I can’t help wondering where she is and why Trey Mercer hasn’t found her yet.