Chapter 14 CHAPTER 14
I hadn’t heard from Branden since the hotel night. Not a single call, not a single text, not even a whisper of a message. Two days had passed, and my chest was still tight every time I reached for my phone, only to find silence. I told myself it didn’t matter, that maybe I was reading too much into it, that he had his reasons, but my heart didn’t agree with my logic. Every shadow on the street, every knock on the door made me tense, hoping it wasn’t someone else, hoping it was him. My father’s slow recovery kept me anchored, but it did little to soothe the restlessness in my mind.
I was in the kitchen, carefully preparing tea for him, watching the steam curl in lazy spirals. The room felt heavy with silence, each tick of the clock sounding louder than it should have. My hands trembled slightly as I poured the hot water into his cup, and I realized I had been holding my breath. I felt the weight of two days of uncertainty pressing down on me.
“Where have you been?” The voice startled me. My mother was standing at the doorway, her arms crossed and her expression tight. She had that look that always made me feel like I was being scolded for something I hadn’t done yet.
“I’ve been here,” I said softly, keeping my eyes on the tea kettle. “I’ve been looking after your father.”
She stepped into the kitchen, letting the door swing shut behind her. “It doesn’t look like it. You disappear at night, Ayla. People notice when you’re acting secretive. Why?” Her tone wasn’t angry, not entirely, but it carried the sharp edge of accusation that had always made me clench my fists under the table.
I took a deep breath and met her eyes. “I’m not acting secretive. I just…” I paused, because words never seemed enough when it came to her. “When have you ever cared about me?” I asked finally, my voice louder than I intended, shaking slightly with the force of the truth I had held back for so long. “You let Sierra marry someone she loved, someone she wanted. And you expected me to smile and pretend it didn’t hurt? You never think about how I feel. Ever.”
Her eyes widened, her jaw tightening, and for a moment I saw something behind the mask she always wore. Shock, maybe guilt, maybe both. But she recovered quickly. “That’s dramatic, Ayla. You’re being far too sensitive,” she said sharply, her voice clipping off the end of the sentence like she needed to shut me down before I could say more.
I swallowed hard and let the tears I had been holding back slip past the corners of my eyes. “I’m not dramatic. I’m tired of being invisible. I’m tired of standing in the background while everyone else lives in the sun. I’m tired of always being the quiet one, the one who just watches.” My voice broke, and I brushed a hand over my face, trying to clear the tears before they fell completely.
She didn’t respond immediately, and that silence felt heavier than any words she could have said. I could feel the tension coiling in the room, like electricity in the air before a storm. My father stirred from his chair, groaning as he shifted. “Ayla… calm down,” he said quietly, his voice raspy from the illness that had clung to him for days.
“I can’t,” I whispered back, even though he wasn’t the one I was addressing. “I can’t calm down when it feels like nobody sees me, nobody hears me, and nobody cares about how much it hurts to be left behind while everyone else gets what they want.”
My mother’s face softened slightly, though it was still tight. “Ayla, you don’t understand,” she said, her voice quieter now. “I’m trying to do what’s best for everyone. You have to trust me.”
“Trust you?” I laughed, a bitter sound that made my throat ache. “I’ve been trusting you my whole life. When have you ever considered what I want? I have to keep my feelings locked away while you make choices for the rest of the family.” My voice was trembling now, not with fear, but with frustration and grief.
Before she could answer, the sound of a car engine outside made me freeze. My heart skipped. Branden. My chest tightened at the thought, hope and dread tangling together in a messy knot. I peeked through the kitchen window, and sure enough, a familiar sleek black car had pulled up. He stepped out, and my stomach flipped, though I tried to act like I didn’t care.
“What is he doing here?” I muttered under my breath, and my mother’s eyes followed mine.
“Who?” she asked sharply.
I let the words hang. “It doesn’t concern you,” I said, snapping slightly. I didn’t want her watching, analyzing, questioning everything.
He walked up to the porch, his presence commanding even without a word. When his gaze met mine through the window, I felt that pull again—the one I couldn’t ignore, the one that always made my body respond before my mind had a chance to protest. I wanted to look away, but I couldn’t. I wanted to tell him to leave, but the sight of him there made my chest tighten, my throat dry.
“Hi,” he said finally, his voice low and steady.
I didn’t answer immediately. My hands clenched into fists at my sides, and I shifted my weight from one foot to the other. I wanted to be happy to see him, and I was, but I couldn’t forget what had happened. Two days of silence had already made me overthink everything.
“I’m taking you out to dinner,” he said, as if reading my thoughts. “Just you and me. Nothing else. We need to talk.”
I hesitated, torn between wanting to say yes and wanting to lock the door and disappear upstairs. “I… I don’t know,” I whispered, though my voice sounded braver than I felt.
“You’ll come,” he said firmly, but not harshly. “I promise you won’t regret it.”
I swallowed and nodded slightly. “Okay,” I said, barely above a whisper, and stepped aside to let him in.
No sooner had he crossed the threshold than my mother appeared from the living room, her arms crossed, her eyes narrowed. “Why is the Alpha standing on my porch?” she demanded.
I felt heat rise in my cheeks. “It doesn’t concern you,” I said immediately, hoping to shut the conversation down.
“It concerns me when you’re consorting with married men and causing trouble in the family,” she said sharply. “You’re trying to destroy your sister’s marriage, aren’t you?”
I blinked, stunned. The accusation cut deeper than I expected. “I am not trying to destroy anything,” I said firmly. “I just I need to see him. He’s important to me.”
“Important to you?” she repeated incredulously, her voice rising. “Do you even realize what you’re saying?”
Before I could answer, my father’s voice came from the living room. “Enough,” he said weakly, coughing harshly. I turned to look at him, and my heart lurched. He had gone pale, gripping the arm of his chair. Then, suddenly, he collapsed.
I rushed to his side, panic tearing through me. “Dad!” I cried, my hands shaking as I tried to check him. Branden knelt beside me immediately, his eyes scanning my father’s face with a calmness that somehow grounded me.
My mother was at my side a second later, worry cracking through her stern exterior. “Call an ambulance!” she shouted, though her voice wavered. I could see the fear in her eyes, the kind that only hits when something precious is in immediate danger.
I pressed my hands to my father’s chest, checking for movement. He was breathing, shallowly, but conscious enough to grip my hand weakly. Branden held my other hand, steadying me. “He’s stable for now,” he said, his voice low and controlled. “The ambulance is on the way. Stay with him.”
Tears streamed down my face as I whispered reassurances to my father, brushing damp hair from his forehead. My mother hovered, silent now, her eyes darting between us, probably realizing how serious everything had gotten.
I glanced at Branden, and for the first time in two days, I allowed myself to breathe. Relief, gratitude, and the lingering confusion about everything else twisted together in my chest. He gave me a look that said he understood without a word, and I realized that even in this chaos, I didn’t have to face it alone.
The sound of sirens in the distance finally made the tension in the room thrum visibly, each of us aware that the night had changed everything.
I leaned back against Branden slightly, still shaking, still unsure, but a little less alone. And as the paramedics arrived, lifting my father carefully onto the stretcher, I knew one thing: nothing about this life was simple, nothing about this love was safe, but for the first time in days, I was ready to face it, one step at a time.