ASHER'S POV

Jonah has some nerve.

Me, a psychopath? I don't know anything about this Theo punk, and I'm supposed to be cool with him? I bit the tip of my pen and bounced my foot against the carpet floor until the words on my father's paperwork turned blurry. Working for the past couple days with no breaks made my skin itch. I stood up and started toward my living room. Like most homes by the water, the whole house was furnished and designed with the beach in mind, but this room in particular was painted to look like a storm out at sea. It was a large, open space with a dark oak bookcase, a few dark-blue velvet couches surrounding a TV, and a grand piano in the room's corner. My shoes lightly bounced against the recently refurbished navy blue carpeting. The repetitive motion had my stomach churning, but I did my best to ignore the sensation.

I wasn't a psychopath.

He's my mate. I'm supposed to be concerned with who he's hanging out with. Okay, maybe I shouldn't beat up his friends. I'll work on that, I guess, but being protective is biological. He should know that.

The sound of my phone dinging on the table I was working at made me stop in my tracks. I hesitated running back to the kitchen, where I had been working. It went off every so often from clueless Wolf Folk who literally didn't know how to run their own business. I let out a sigh, walked over to the table, ignoring the amount of paperwork I still had to go through, and stared at the screen. When it was just a message from another shop owner about their late payments, I began pacing again.

Who was I kidding? He wasn't going to text me. He hated my guts, and can I blame him? No, I'm a huge tool. I just keep saying the wrong things. And hell, if I bit any harder than I did, he'd probably still have to stay in the hospital. Why was he even near my house? How did he know where I lived? Had he been searching for me?

My ringtone started playing, and I nearly tripped over myself to grab it. It was an unknown number flashing through the screen, and I tried not to get too excited, calming my nerves by taking a deep breath through my nose before I answered the call.

"Hello," I said, keeping my tone even.

"Hey, Fisher, it's Ezra."

I wanted to drop the phone. I knew it was too good to be true.

"I hope you don't mind me calling during working hours, but I was wondering if you wanted to get drinks later tonight," Ezra asked a little sheepish. Even in high school, he had a hard time asking to hang out. It was an Omega trait. Omegas don't tend to be so forward, especially to Alphas. He seemed to have no issues with work, but it was endearing to see that he still struggled with it when his walls were down. Can't tell him that, of course, he'd chew my head off and feed it to his patients to save some money for the hospital.

"Yeah, no worries, drinks sound good. Does six at the Dirty Oyster work for you?" I walked back to the kitchen table, slumped into my chair, and looked out the glass windows that faced the ocean.

"I should be out by then," Ezra said, his tone rising with excitement. "Looking forward to catching up!"

"Same," I said before hanging up and tossing my phone onto the desk.

My eyes lingered on the work I should be doing for the next three hours, before I stood and wandered to the bookshelf. There were several knick-knacks in the spaces between books, and I stopped at the shelf with a small metal car resting on the edge.

I picked up the Hot Wheels car and rubbed the faded paint on the doors as if they were made of cotton, not metal. I know it was dumb to buy it for him. I had long since resolved to never see him again, and even dumber to have it after all these years, but it always felt wrong to try to get rid of it. 

I flipped the car over in my palm. The cool texture calmed me. If only I could express myself like a normal person, he'd understand why I had to leave. Maybe I should have gone back. Maybe I could have explained it to him.

I squeezed the car, careful with how much strength I used. He was too young back then. He nearly died, and if I told him, he'd lose his second chance at life.

With a heavy sigh a small shake of my head, I tucked the car back on the shelf, where I could see it while I worked in the kitchen.