The Pack: Rule Number 1 - No Mates

Chapter Three Hundred Seven

KENDALL

After a quick shower, courtesy of Charlie’s apartment upstairs, I was able to wash all traces of vomit from my person, brush my teeth – for like…the fiftieth time today and blow dry my hair so that the hazel blond locks fall softly into carefully styled layers. Changing into a pair of jean cut–off booty shorts with black leggings underneath and the adorable ‘Moonlight Lounge” crop top, I do a spin in the mirror, happy that my tummy is still pretty flat.

One day though…it won’t be. And on that day I don’t know what I’m going to do. Because those assholes that own this place might not let me keep working here when they find out that I’m pregnant and I really like this job. Hopefully Charlie will be able to convince them to keep me. He said that he would at least try.

Until this morning in the restaurant bathroom, no one knew that I was pregnant. But after having Charlotte the Harlot walk in on me, I knew that I had better tell Charlie myself. So when I first walked–in, that’s exactly what I did. He didn’t seem bothered by it in the least and he seems to think Bartlett will be cool with it too, but he doesn’t know about my history with that surly bastard.

Bartlett doesn’t hate me, but he does think I’m obsessed with him, which is sooo not true.

I mean sure, liked him a lot at first, but he didn’t want to be exclusive and, I’ll admit, at first I was cool with that. Because, being honest? I only got with him in the first place to try to get someone else’s attention. But it didn’t work the way I expected it to. Maybe not at all. And the next thing you know, I’m completely plastered and walking out of the bar with Mister Tall Dark and Nameless.

Three weeks and not much of a memory later, I’m craving chocolate covered jalapenos and tossing my lunch in the back of the diner parking lot.

The saddest part about that is… not only do I not have daddy’s name… but I don’t think I’d even recognize him if I saw him again.

I know what you’re thinking, and trust me, I’m in no way impressed with the astronomical fuckery in which I chose to partake, but… in my defense… I was so monumentally heartbroken that I just didn’t give a fuck at the time. I didn’t care!!! I didn’t give a fuck if I left that night with a serial killer and got dropped back off with only nine fingers and toes.

And no, none of it was Bartlett’s fault. And yes, I did try and insert myself back into his life so that maybe I could pretend the baby was his and force him into an unhappily never after, but he wasn’t going for it and that’s probably a good thing.

Because it’s not even him that I want.

It never was.

that in mind, I walk toward the window that looks out onto the street and peer out toward the cafe just to be certain that

are you

you love seeing that asshole.

though he acts as if you don’t exist.

the times when he knows that you do and he treats you like the town pariah.

I ask myself, when I see that Timmons is in fact gone and I find myself with my face pressed

regularly when he’s on duty. Not that I’ve noticed,

to work,” I tell myself, my eyes skirting over the line that has

wintertime drunks, but the

before I see him and I swear to the holy ghost, I do not mean to trip when I

stairs left when I catch sight of Timmons curly brown hair and my feet forget that we don’t have wings, but five is just enough for me to go flying to my doom

going to

catches in my throat, my voice locking behind some death wish of mine that refuses to call for help. But in the midst of my descent out of greatness, I see him turn around and notice me. What I don’t see is how in the everyday fuck he moves quickly enough to

catch me he does. And no

snarls once he has me in his arms, and sweet baby Jesus am I

is everywhere. I can feel the blood rushing

swallows thickly, I can see his throat bob with the effort, but

from behind the bar. That could have been, really,

that I realize that he is still holding me and despite the scowl he is sporting, I never want

can’t seem to place. Okay, maybe I can place it, but just don’t want to. Because, it could be hate… but I’d rather it not be.

hisses.