Page 26 of The Alpha’s Unclaimed Mate

“Hi.” She hitches the toddler higher on her side, a little breathless. “I was hoping I’d run into you. I’ve been meaning to thank you for the other day.”

“You really don’t have to.” I wave it off with a small smile. “Are the kids okay?”

“They’re a little rattled, but they’re fine, thanks to you.” Her grip on the toddler tightens even as her face softens. “We’re in the same building, I know. I just haven’t found a minute to knock on your door and thank you properly.” She draws a breath, almost shy. “Would you want to come by for tea this weekend? My mother takes the kids on Sundays, so I’d be free. We could do lunch instead, if that’s easier.”

The offer catches me off guard. I haven’t made a single friend here, and the truth is I haven’t tried, too busy plotting my way back out of town to bother knocking on anyone’s door.

“I’d love to,” I tell her, and I’m not lying to be polite.

“Sunday it is,” she says, relief flickering across her tired features. “How about one in the afternoon?”

“Sounds perfect.” I beam at her. She gives my arm a quick squeeze through the window, gathers her brood, and heads for the hatchback. Watching her go, I take in the shadows bruised under her eyes, the thinness of her shoulders, the heavy drag in her step. She’s running on empty and doing a poor job of hiding it.

I decide right there to cook something and bring it Sunday, soup or a casserole, something she can feed those kids without lifting a finger. It would be nice to have one friend in this town, maybe the only good thing it ever hands me.

The back door opens, and Mia drops in, bag thumping against the seat, slumping low with her mouth set sullen.

I twist around. “All right, what’s going on? You’ve been sulking for three days straight.”

“It’s nothing.”

“Mia.”

She picks at the strap of her bag. “Bella’s still not back.”

My shoulders come down an inch. A friend problem I can handle. “Since when?”

“Wednesday.” Her chin drops. “Miss Harlow said she’s really sick. She asked the whole class if anybody would take her homework over so she doesn’t fall behind.” She pauses, and then her voice hardens. “Nobody put their hand up. The whole class just sat there.”

I already see where this is going, and my stomach drops ahead of her.

“Please tell me you didn’t volunteer.”

“I had to.” She rounds on me, eyes bright with temper. “Bella needs to finish her homework or they’ll push the class ahead without her, and then she’s stuck on her own again. Did you know I’m her only friend? She doesn’t have anybody else, Mom.”

I press my lips together and study her in the rearview. She’s a small, fierce thing who steps in front of trouble without stopping to count the odds. I love her for it. But it’s also troublesome because she simply doesn’t view the world through the eyes of an adult who understands consequences.

“I’m happy you found a friend, baby. I mean that.” I weigh the next words carefully. “But I can’t drive you over to a stranger’s house out of nowhere.”

“Bella’s not a stranger.” Then she delivers it, sly and sweet, the little wretch. “And her uncle really, really likes you.”

Heat floods my face. I turn back to the wheel and fix my eyes on the gate so she won’t catch it.

The last thing I need is for arrogant, infuriating Marcus Steele to like me. I need him bored of me, ready to forget my face a second time and leave us be. Every time I push the two of us apart, the girls or the school or some dead car drags us back together, and the only mercy left in my life is that Mia looks nothing like her father.

“Mom.” She leans into the gap between the seats, pleading now. “Please.”

I sigh. She always wears me down in the end. “I don’t even have his address.”

“I do.” Her whole face lights up with triumph. “Bella wrote it down for me.”

Of course she did. “Fine. I’ll take you over tomorrow morning.”

“Can we go today?” Her face crumples toward a beg. “I really, really miss her.”

I should say no. Bigger things than this have gotten a no from me this week. Instead I catch her hopeful face in the mirror, and I feel myself cave.

“Fine. We drop the homework, you say hello, then we leave. Understood?”