Chapter 83

Ardal

Kadeem demands that Jack drive, while he sits next to him in the passenger seat.

“To make sure you don’t try anything,” he growls.

Jack furrows his brow. “What are you talking about?”

“As if you don’t know,” Kadeem scoffs.

Already fed up, I throw my head back against my seat in the second row and heave a loud sigh. We're not even out of the driveway.

“This trip is going to be loooong if you two are going to snip at each other the whole way."

Jack tightens his lips, reaching forward to switch on the radio to a news channel. Kadeem immediately changes it to classic rock. Jack makes an attempt to regain control and I stretch out an arm to stop him.

"I'm changing it," I say, firmly, finding a pop station instead. “And don’t think I won’t separate you like two toddlers! You’re worse than my six year-olds!”

“You have to take turns,” Ezra offers sagely from the backseat.

Jack’s face contorts with shame as he glances at Ezra in the rearview mirror. “Ahem, yes,” he mumbles. "Quite right."

Kadeem twists around in his seat to flash Ezra a lopsided smile.

Sufficiently chastened, Jack and Kadeem fall into an uneasy silence. While Jack drives, the children chatter excitedly about their journey.

I stare out the window, listening to Harry Styles' latest single playing in the background. We jostle along, making our way past sun-soaked fields that stretch out before us like an endless sea.

When the kids begin to tire of their confinement, Kadeem points to a roadside gas station.

"Pull over," he barks at Jack who glares at him in frustration but complies all the same.

Kadeem turns to look back at the children. "Who wants to come inside with me?"

The kids erupt into cheers, clamoring for attention. "Me! I do,” they shout, scrambling out of the car ahead of him. My nose wrinkles when the strong scent of gasoline wafts inside.

Kadeem takes them into the store while Jack fills up the tank and I get out to stretch my legs. He’s uncharacteristically quiet and won’t make eye contact with me. I stroll over to a patch of grass to wait for him and escape the fumes.

After he finishes pumping the gas, he pulls the car up next to me.

I walk over to the driver’s side window and he rolls it down with a wearied expression.

“Just get out for a few minutes,” I say.

He says nothing and rolls the window back up, looking as demoralized as Charlie Brown. Then he steps out and slumps against the side of the car.

“I’m sorry,” I say, frowning. “This has gone all wrong.”

He shakes his head, but his eyes are cast downward. “Not your fault," he mumbles. "It’s just - if we were going to be escorted by just the Alpha, that would be one thing - but the fact that he’s your ex…”

His voice trails off. “I know he supposedly doesn’t know who you are, but I get the feeling there’s something there...” He meets my eyes. “Maybe reciprocal, I don’t know.”

My heart thrums and guilt washes over me for my illicit kiss with Kadeem and my lustful thoughts about him. Should I admit all of this to Jack? An old truck idles at the pumping station, its engine rattling.

“He’s possessive of you,” Jack says. His brow furrows in confusion.

The bell of the convenience store rings as someone opens it.

“I mean, what’s all this to him? He’s Alpha. Why would he leave the pack to chase after you?”

We freeze as the kids appear, sprinting down the sidewalk. Kadeem steps forward before I can muster a word, tossing me a bag of white cheddar popcorn as he passes.

"Because it concerns the whole pack," he says simply.

Jack turns a funny shade of purple, and I’m immediately overrun by the quints, joyfully showing me their cherry Slurpees.

I smile hesitantly, silently cursing Kadeem. Thanks to him, it ought to be a lot of fun wrangling them back into the car!

They're on a sugar high, giggling and tearing about, with sticky red smearing their lips. Lottie has somehow managed to stain her fingers with her drink and drip it all the way down the front of her clothes.

Milo, who’s already gulped down half of his Slurpee, is spinning around on the sidewalk. We all come to a standstill when he looks as though he’s about to vomit.

Thank God, he simply coughs and then starts chugging the drink away again.

“Go easy on that,” I yell over at him.

I turn around to face Kadeem, my hand planted on my hip.

“I know,” he says instantly, wrinkling his nose in a sheepish apology. "Your kids would be good on the mafia payroll, though. They're a persuasive lot.”

He reaches into a plastic shopping bag. It’s translucent enough to see a toothbrush and a couple other toiletries inside.

He pulls out an apple and throws it to Jack, who takes a moment before his face melts into begrudging appreciation.

Kadeem smirks at him. “Do I have your number, or what?”

“An apple for a doctor? Very clever,” I deadpan.

Kadeem tears into a piece of his beef jerk. “It had nothing to do with his profession - or that silly proverb.”

I glare at him. “The jibe was obvious,” I say, although Jack is devouring the apple contentedly next to me.

Kadeem shakes his head. “Nothing of the sort. Just a good guess.”

“Whatever.”

Jack answers around a crunch of the bright green apple. “It’s okay.” He swallows. “But organic Honeycrisp is actually my preferred.”

Kadeem raises an eyebrow “Sorry,” he says, leaning against the hood of the van. “For some reason they were clean out of those.”

“Granny Smith is an acceptable alternative,” Jack says, nodding in approval as he takes another bite.

Kadeem lets out an easy laugh. “I’ll file that away.”

I scowl at the popcorn in my hands, rage burning in my chest. Kadeem is trying to be “friendly” again - his usual ploy.

He catches me staring at it and sighs. “Oh, just go on and eat it. There’s no point in being spiteful, is there?”

I issue a loud huff in response.

Kadeem rolls his eyes. “You were badgering us about getting along,” he says, gesturing to Jack. “Maybe you could make an effort to be nice for once.” He raises his eyebrows, waiting for my reaction.

I rapidly look to Jack, but for once he doesn’t try to intervene on my behalf. He just looks tired, leaning against a light post as he stares off into the distance with the remaining half of his apple in his hand. He’s taken off his glasses and has them hung, clipped over the collar of his shirt. I wonder where his head’s at - but I can wager a good guess - and I feel a terrible, gnawing shame over it.

My jaw tightens and I march to the trash bin, slamming the bag furiously inside.

“Very mature of you,” Kadeem jeers.

“I’ll buy my own popcorn, thanks.” I spin around and stomp towards the convenience store’s doors.

“They should erect a statue in your honor,” Kadeem shouts behind me. “For your sheer ridiculousness.”