Page 65 of Alpha Brock

Something about tonight brought his past pain to the surface, and I feel like he’s taking it all out on me- like I’m being punished for someone else’s sins. So, as he completely shuts down and starts to walk away, I blurt out the one thing on my mind.

“I’m not her, you know.”

Brock freezes in his tracks. Slowly, he turns to look at me over his shoulder.

My lips part to speak again, my voice shaky. “I’m not Annalise.”

His eyes shoot daggers through me- they’re so cold, colder than I’ve ever seen them. Detached. “No,” he growls cruelly. “You’renot.”

His words slice into me like a hot blade, spilling my guts on the floor. Tears spring to my eyes, but he’s already gone.

~

It feels so strange coming back to Brock’s packhouse at the end of the night after everything that’s happened. Sam, Chris and I hitched a ride here from Reid- he was kind enough to offer, even though it was nowhere near on his way home to take us to Riverton. Chris opted to stay the night with his mate, so Reid dropped him there before bringing Sam and I to the packhouse.

Sam climbs out first, and I’m about to hop out of Reid’s SUV when he speaks up, giving me pause.

“Go easy on him,” Reid says, peering over at me on the passenger side.

I freeze with my hand on the door, blinking back at him through the dark.

He heaves a sigh, running a hand over his close-cropped hair. “I know he’s a dick, but he’s been through a lot.”

I pull my lower lip between my teeth, nodding. “I know,” I whisper. Then I jump down out of the SUV, closing the door behind me. Looking up at the packhouse and trying not to think about how everything went so sideways tonight.

Sam and I make our way up the front walk, and it’s dark when the two of us slip inside- everyone’s either still out or already in bed. I immediately take off my heels, breathing a sigh as I give my sore feet a much-needed reprieve. Bending, I pick them up off of the floor, tucking them under an arm and staring toward the staircase.

Part of me wants to go up there and see if Brock’s home. To talk to him and try to smooth things over. Then there’s another part of me that’s pissed off, wanting to wait on an apology that will probably never come. Blinking back tears, I turn away from the staircase, heading toward the hallway of the guest wing instead and gesturing for Sam to follow. We creep down the corridor quietly, and when we’re about halfway to the end, I point to the door of the room that Brock assigned him. Coincidentally, it’s the guest room that’s farthest from mine.

“That’s you,” I whisper, looking to Sam. “Goodnight.”

He gives a little shake of his head, reaching out to set his hand on my arm. “I’ll walk you to your room.”

I’m too emotionally drained to protest, so I just whisper back “okay” and continue on down the hallway.

Once we get to the end, I push open the door to my room, flicking the light on as I step inside. Sam follows me in.

“You sure you’re okay?” he asks quietly, concern in his pretty blue eyes as he looks over at me.

“Are you?” I fire back, my eyes going to his jaw. Thank god for shifter healing because it looked pretty nasty after Brock sucker punched him. And like the great friend I am, I ran after Brock after it happened rather than joining Chris in checking if he was okay.

He instinctively reaches up to rub it. “Like I said the first twenty times, I’m fine,” Sam sighs. “Now stop dodging the question. You sure you’re okay, Astrid?”

“Yeah, I’m…” but I can’t lie to Sam. He’s my best friend; he knows me better than anyone. So I go with the truth. “I don’t know, Sam,” I say, my voice breaking. “Right now, no, but I will be.”

Sam keeps his eyes on me as he slowly closes the door behind him, the latch clicking.

I suck in a nervous breath. “What are you doing?”

He steps closer, closing the distance until he’s standing right in front of me, reaching out to cup my face in his hands. Staring down at me with so much earnestness in his gaze. “Take it out on me.”

“Wh… what?” I croak.

One of his hands slip back to my nape, his fingers threading through my hair. It feels good, familiar. My eyes slide closed.

“Everything you’re feeling,” Sam murmurs, swirling his fingertips in circles on my scalp, massaging it. “Just take it out on me.”

Old habits die hard. It would be so easy to fall back into those patterns, to fall into bed with Sam. To just get lost with him and forget about tonight. But I know it wouldn’t help a damn thing in the long run, and it definitely wouldn’t be fair to him or to Brock.