Page 44 of The Alpha’s Unclaimed Mate

“We’re not having lunch?” Bella’s face falls.

I open my mouth to offer the pasta I’ve got going, but Marc gets there first.

“No.” It snaps out, clipped. He was teasing me over bacon this morning. Now he won’t even look at me.

It startles me. There’s no anger in it, no edge aimed at anyone. He just sounds wrong, the voice gone tight. I straighten and study him. “Hey. You okay?”

“Fine.” He says it to the floor. “Bella, get your bag. I’ve got things to do.”

Bella drags her feet and shoots me a betrayed look, but she goes, and he’s out the door with her so fast he doesn’t even stop to needle me. The lock clicks behind them, and the apartment goes quiet.

I turn to Mia, who’s stalled in the hall, picking at her sleeve. “Hey. Did something happen at the park, baby?”

She’s quiet a moment too long. “No. Nothing happened.” She won’t quite look at me. “Can I take a shower? I’m all sticky.”

“Sure,” I tell her and watch her disappear down the hall, trying to ignore the cold settling in my chest.

The week finds a rhythm, as weeks do once you stop fighting them.

Mia wakes up talking about Bella and falls asleep talking about Bella. There’s a sleepover being negotiated, a science project being plotted, a feud with a boy named Theo that flares and resolves twice a day. I drop her at the gate each morning, collect her each afternoon, and not once in five days do I see Marc.

I should be relieved. A whole week without those gray eyes finding me across a parking lot is exactly what I’ve been begging the universe for. Instead, the quiet itches. I catch myself checking the gate each afternoon, half hoping to find him propped against it with that infuriating smile, half terrified I will. After ten days of him refusing to be avoided, the sudden absence of him just leaves me braced for something to go wrong.

Friday I leave the office at noon because half days are the one thing this job got right. I’m in the car with the engine barely turning over when my phone goes off, the academy’s name on the screen.

“Mrs. Vasquez?” The nurse is brisk but kind. “Mia’s having an allergic reaction. Nothing life-threatening, but you’ll want to come.”

I’m already pulling out of the lot. “I’m coming.”

The word rattles around my skull the whole drive. I’ve spent ten years bracing for every emergency I could imagine, and an allergy never made the list. My hands grip the wheel too hard the whole way there.

I make the drive in half the time the law allows and half-run through the front doors. A receptionist points me toward the one office I least want to enter: Marc’s.

Mia’s perched in the big leather chair, blotchy pink across her arms and neck but upright and alert, swinging her legs. My knees nearly go out from under me.

“Hey, baby.” I drop in front of her and cup her blotchy face. “What happened?”

“I took some flowers from Bella, and they made me itch so bad.” She holds up her speckled arms for inspection. “But the nurse gave me a shot, and now it’s mostly just itchy.”

“Most kids would be wailing.” I press the back of my hand to her warm cheek out of pure habit, checking for fever I know isn’t there. “You’re tougher than the rest of them.”

She preens, still pink from the welts, chin lifting. “The nurse said I was brave.”

“She’s all right.” Marc’s at the window, half turned away. “The nurse caught it early. She’s allergic to lilies. It’ll fade by tonight.” His voice is even, but his expression is shuttered, and I can’t read it.

“Where’d you even get those flowers?”

“They were in our classroom.” Mia scratches her wrist. “Bella brought them in and gave me some.”

I glance at Marc. He looks away, out the window, jaw tight, and the guilt sits plain on him. So that’s it. Bella handed my kid something she’s allergic to, and he’s taking it hard.

“Hey.” I soften. “It’s nobody’s fault. I didn’t know she was allergic to lilies either. We know now. That’s all that matters, as long as she’s okay.”

“Can we go home?” Mia leans into me, gone small. “I’m really tired. I wanna sleep.”

“Of course we can.” I help her up.

“Actually.” Marc turns from the window. “Mia, wait outside for your mom a minute. I need a quick word with her.”