Chapter 01 Reunions

Hanna

I all but jump out of the car at the sight of my dad waiting for me in the driveway. The years have been unkind to him, his graying hair and sickly pallor heartbreaking to witness. Tears brim my eyes as I run to his open arms and give him a tight hug.

“I’m sorry,” I whisper, my throat choking up with all kinds of emotions that I’ve bottled up for two whole years. “I’m sorry for leaving you.”

He simply rubs my back and kisses my hair. “Welcome home, sweetheart,” he says softly.

I nod and smile. The scent of motor oil is strong from him, which tells me he’s been working on the garage this morning.

“Let me look at you,” he says, a smile on his face. “My little girl’s all grown up.”

He kisses the top of my head and wipes my tears, pinching my cheeks to make me laugh. His dark blue eyes look away from me for a second.

That’s when I remember my best friend who came with me and drove me all the way back home. Dean is taller than dad, with a lean build and a million-dollar model’s facial features. High cheekbones, sharp jawline, and alluring icy eyes. His golden blonde hair shines even more in the twilight. “Dean, this is my dad. Dad, this is Dean, my best friend.”

“It’s a pleasure to meet you, sir,” he says while extending a hand, charming him with his smile.

My dad shakes his hand. “Jason. Thanks for bringing my daughter back home, young man,” he replies, patting him on the back, a sign of my dad’s approval.

Happiness swells in my chest. I’ve been anxious since dad called, pleading for me to return when I’d rather not. While this place will always hold a special place in my heart, the memories end with a painful one I’d rather forget.

“Hanna,” an all too familiar voice says from the direction of the house.

Goosebumps rise all over my skin. I knew this was bound to happen, but I didn’t think I’d meet him this soon.

I turn around and pause, his appearance hitting me like a train. “Logan,” I breathe out against my will. “Logan Greene.”

I can’t believe I just said his name twice.

He’s matured even more from the last time I saw him. Legs like lumber strain against his jeans as he steps down the porch and stalks over to me, white shirt too tight against his massive frame. Something stirs beneath my skin, a strange pleasant sensation that proves only one thing—like those couple of years ago, my very nature is telling me he is my fated mate. I should be overjoyed right now, but my torn heart still remembers his cold rejection like it was yesterday.

“It’s been two years,” he says with those soft pink lips that have tasted my skin and more.

I’m assaulted with the scent of lavender and musk, which only makes the sensation scatter and explode like fireworks. “Yeah,” I whisper.

I dare raise my eyes to meet his, and my knees almost give out on the spot. They’re the same vivid green, like evergreen trees, clear and mesmerizing. I’ve gazed into his eyes as he took the gift that I’ve been saving for him. Softly they looked at me then, and I believed they’d be looking at me full of love and adoration for the rest of our lives.

Well … it only took one night for him to change his mind. Reality is often disappointing. Those same eyes that made me feel loved stared me down with disgust on the morning that followed.

“But you’re back,” he adds, a tone of surprise and disbelief in his voice.

I hate that I can’t look away, that he has me rooted on the spot. I hate how I want him to beg for me to forgive him right now, and I might just consider. I hate this small sliver of hope that we can still be together when he’s the sole reason I left everything I ever knew two years ago.

Just as quickly as I remembered how he loved me, resentment and anger grab me from these useless thoughts and douse me with a bucket of cold and harsh reality. He chose Madeline over me. He used me, then threw me away like I was trash without even properly rejecting me!

Anxiety ate at me on most nights, thinking of how happy he must be living with the girl he chose, while I agonized over the bills I had to pay. I lived in fear, pain, and guilt every damn day because of him. He’d never know how difficult it was to live while spending every conscious moment waiting for the pain from his defilement of our bond when he sleeps with her. No, he’d live ignorant, carefree, and happy while I bore all the consequences of his reckless hate.

How dare he walk up to me like nothing ever happened!

I find my strength and move two steps back. Hurt flashes in his eyes, but I dismiss it as my imagination. “Temporarily,” I say sternly. “I’m not here for you. I missed my dad.”

His beautiful jaw tightens.

That ticks me off even more.

What did he expect? That I’d come running back to him when he’s clearly been living well while I burned in hell?

Dean steps in beside me and wounds his arm around my waist. “You must be Alpha Logan. I’m Dean Chanler from the Blackwood Pack.”

Logan stares at his arm, and his eyes narrow. Following Dean’s lead, I place my arm around his waist and smile up at him, doing my best to give him a happy one despite the mixed emotions squeezing my heart. Dean meets my gaze and smiles.

“And her fiancé,” he adds, kissing my forehead.

My eyes widen in surprise. I know we’re just acting and this is most definitely an impromptu, but isn’t an engagement too much?

Before panic can fully set in, a thought crosses my mind. Since I’m here, I might as well get Logan’s rejection so I can finally be freed from him. I giggle as I reach for Dean’s collar and pull him down so I can kiss his cheek.

“Cheeky,” I tease, to which he chuckles.

My dad clears his throat, looking a little conflicted at what’s happening.

Sorry, dad. I swear I’ll explain later.

I turn to address my so-called mate again, this time with my head resting on Dean’s firm chest and my arms wrapped around his side. “Like I said, I’m here for my dad. But it’s nice to see you again, Alpha.”

He doesn’t say a word immediately. It gets a little awkward for me when he’s just staring at me, but Dean is fully enjoying himself by running his fingers through my hair, gently untangling where knots form.

There’s no way we don’t look like a couple this way, right?

I’m racking my brains for how to get him to leave when an all too chirpy voice joins the conversation.

Well, what do you know?

Think of the devil and she shall come running.

--x--