by Tamar Sloan
Chapter Five
The Solution
The moment Kurt Junior was born my options were slashed down to one. As my heart screamed there must be another way, I knew there wasn’t. I was now nothing more than the first-born daughter of the Alpha. And so I made the decision that had to be made for all of us.
I can’t be around Mitch.
And I’ve had legitimate reasons to avoid him for a whole week — Mom’s got a new baby and six other children she needs help with. It’s understandable that I answer texts with ‘can’t talk’ and that my phone calls are cut short as I chase after younger siblings. It’s totally reasonable that I stay home — alone — every night because I’m tired.
Everyone else’s life continues. Dad is so happy; he has his son. Mom is so happy; her child bearing years are over. My sisters love doting on the one they know is so special.
Thankfully, no one notices that I am quietly and desperately miserable.
Of course then Dad had to organize a celebration party. This included all of the Channons, but also the Phelans. I know it’s just as important that he show off his son to our neighboring pack. The ones who are friends, but in some subtle way I’ve never understood, a threat.
So now I’m getting ready to see him. I look in the mirror at the hollow girl looking back at me, wearing the same dress I wore to the last family get-together. The statue staring back at me knows. She knows I miss Mitch. The laughter, the friendship. The potential that was radiating from his eyes, his mouth…
She also misses Noah and the Phelans and life being easy.
But it’s unmistakable in the form that dominates the mirror — I’m the firstborn, but a girl. Which means responsibility and little voice. So I dress my younger sisters and run plates of food out to the back yard, the whole time counting down the minutes; anticipation and dread kung-fu fighting in my stomach.
I know the moment they arrive, because I’ve been skulking in the kitchen, pretending to slice cucumbers, but really spying on everyone filing through the door, ooing and aahing over my baby brother. Mitch’s parents come in first, Adam and Beth saying all the right things as my Dad’s chest threatens to explode. Noah is all Alpha-heir as he shakes hands. Mitch does the niceties but the moment they’re done his eyes start scanning.
My breath sucks in and I go to move but I’m not quick enough. He finds me and I freeze. Sweet smurfs, across the distance I register two things. He looks good. Really darned good. And I’ve known him long enough to know he looks determined.
Like he’s winding in a line he starts walking towards me, and I’m relieved to see that Noah joins him.
“Hey guys.” I smile brightly.
Noah engulfs me in a hug. “Long time no see. I was worried you got that same haircut when we were ten and wouldn’t show yourself in public.”
I laugh and it constricts my chest. “No way, lesson learned that red hair doesn’t like to be turned green.”
I turn to Mitch. Please, please don’t make me touch him. I haven’t decided if it’s a blessing or a curse that I never got to experience that delight. Sure, I’ve hugged Mitch, I’ve curled up to watch TV with him. But now, since THE moment, a touch would be so different, so much more.
“Hi, Mitch.”
“You look good, Tara.”
I curtsy, subtly taking a step backward as I do.
Noah’s brows tangle quizzically. Maybe not so subtle…He glances at Mitch then back at me.
There’s a squeal then a splash then a wail. “Taaaraaa.”
Right there and then, despite all the jams I’ve had to pull him out of, I thank the gods of stuffed animals for the day Mr. Puddles came into my life. “Gotta go.”
And I’m outta there faster than a Were with its tail on fire.
The rest of the party I mingle with my pack and with the Phelans, always as far from Mitch as I can. I catch glimpses of him, laughing with Noah, talking to Dana. He’s there when his mom coos over Kurt Junior. Once he catches me looking. Those blue eyes grab me and the people around me fade and blur. When the moment hangs on longer than it really should — because I can’t bring myself to move — his lips tip up. Something moves in those deepwater eyes, and it propels me. That flash is why I’m doing this.
I can’t give him hope. I’m grieving for the future that has played out in the wishful thinking part of my brain. I’m hurting for what can never be. Mitch needs to believe it was never a possibility.
I spend the entire night acting like I’ve orchestrated this whole party. The moment a plate is down to only a couple of sausages I head inside for more. The pitchers of juice are like bottomless wells as I keep them topped up. Mom gets to sit and bask in the glow of her pack’s pride as I feed, clean and care for my siblings.
I see Mitch about five times more than I’d like. The first, I pretend I don’t see him, despite the fact I know every move he makes. The second time I pass him I’m juggling two plates of salad. When he offers to help I shake my head and point out I’ve got the Were strength to do this and keep going before he can reply. By the third and fourth he’s starting to frown. But I finally put having so many little sisters to good use — like when Flora needs her steak cut up and Christa conveniently needs a diaper change.
The fifth was the hardest. Mitch had materialized from the crowd as I headed back to the kitchen. That determined look hadn’t left his frowning eyes. “Do you have a second?”
I hadn’t stopped walking. “Ah, the coleslaw actually ran out, I’m going to whip up another batch.”
Mitch’s dark brows lift. I don’t think he’s ever seen me make coleslaw half way through a party. I don’t think I’ve ever seen myself make coleslaw ever. “I wanted to talk.”
I flash a neon smile. “Not sure I’ll get a chance tonight. Seems having a boy in the family really brings on the pack appetite. Your poor mother when she had two at the same time!”
I’m blabbering as I walk, away from the kitchen where most people would make coleslaw, back out to the safety of the crowd.
Mitch’s mouth opens, but Tara-of-the-chatterbox-clan is in full swing. “Have you seen how adorable little Kurt is? Dad’s already picked out his first bike, his first car and what he’s gonna wear on his first Change. Oh hi Aunty Cheryl, I know, isn’t he the most beautiful baby you’ve ever seen?”
I feel Mitch melt back into the crowd and I’m glad I’m spared the look on his face. Angry I could have coped with. Angry I saw when I reversed Dad’s truck over his cordless drill. But disappointed, even hurt, that would have cut through my veneer like a blade to a canvas.
When Mr. Puddles and I make it through to the end of the night with our stuffing still intact I allow myself to relax. I’m not there when the Phelans are one of the last to leave. Like the coward I never knew I was, I watch from the kitchen window, tucked into the side of the fridge so I can’t be seen. Mitch and Noah talk at the car and I quickly head to the back of the house in case those seeking eyes find me again.
On the back patio I start to return my easels back to their usual spots now that everyone has left. I’m too tired, mentally and physically, to paint, but the comfort of my little area calls to me. Paintings I can control; they are a world I get to create just the way I want them. I wouldn’t mind spending a bit of time with the beauty and colors I had some say in.
“I thought I’d find you here.”
I spin, heart thumping with surprise and no small dose of joy, to find Mitch all gorgeous and frowning in the doorway. “W-what are you doing here?”
“I wanted to talk.”
“But you just left.”
Mitch’s brows quirk ever so slightly. “You knew I was leaving…”
Stall Tara, stall. “Well everyone was leaving, so I assumed.” Hope has me stepping toward the door. “Maybe another night, I’m tired and your parents probably want to get going.”
“Noah and I brought our truck.”
Oh.
“He went home with Mum and Dad.”<
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Uh oh.
Mitch leans against the door jamb, arms crossing like he’s making himself at home. “Why are you avoiding me?”
“I’m not.”
The lie sounds lame even to my own wishful ears. Dodge ram it, why did I have to fall for someone who knows me?
“It started after last time we were here.” He looks around the room, taking in the paintings, slowing on the one of the Glade, before blue eyes come back to me. “When we almost kissed.”
Mitch’s honesty, the tendency to bluntness, I’ve always respected. Right now, it makes me wince.
“That was a mistake.”
“That’s what I thought you might say. I disagree.”
“Mitch, we’ve got a friendship most never get to experience.”
He steps forward. “Imagine what that would mean if we took it to the next level.”
“Noah would become a third wheel.” Tension pulls my whole body tight as my brain scrambles for some way to make this conversation stop.
Another step. Cinnamon and citrus fill my starving lungs. “We spoke. He couldn’t figure out why we didn’t see it earlier.”
“Our packs.”
I falter, the biggest reason is the one I can’t explain.
“Are you telling me I read the other night wrong?”
Mitch’s tone says it all. We grew up together. I know you.
My heart batters against my chest, bruising everything including itself. He’s right, and that’s what makes this a gazillion times worse.
“What’s holding you back Tara?”
“You’re right, I have been avoiding you.”
Victory flashes in the eyes I never wanted to hurt. I shake my head. “But it’s not what you think.”
Something shifts in Mitch as he sees how hard this is for me. He stills and waits.
“Mitch.” I swallow and swallow hard. “I value our friendship.”
Mitch straightens as he hears the truth in my words.
“But I don’t want to hurt you.”
I look away, but I hear the intake of breath as the next words hits home.
“And I don’t want any more than that.”
I don’t move, I don’t look up. Not even when I hear the door open, when angry hard footsteps take him away. I didn’t need to see the pain sweep through his deepwater eyes. I know I’ve hurt him. Hard and deep. I know because Mitch didn’t see my words for what they were.
A lie.
