Chapter 58 Shopping
Phoebe
Zion’s expression changed, and it immediately made me shrink back. His face suddenly reminded me of a young Hannibal Lecter in Hannibal Rising—handsome, but deadly.
“You’re scaring me, Zion.”
“I’m just sleep-deprived and cranky.”
“Why didn’t you sleep?”
“Thinking about the match tomorrow. Who wouldn’t be nervous?”
Fair enough. If Zion was feeling that way, I had every reason to be even more anxious. But I didn’t want to think about the game right now.
As Hayden’s friend, Zion probably knew what the Grey family was really like. I was curious about the Silver Claw pack since I’d never heard of it mentioned by my dad or seen it involved in any of our pack events.
In my head, Hayden had to come from one of those upper-class families who only mixed with their own kind. Just thinking about Alpha Truman—so stern, cold, and intimidating yesterday—was enough to make me want to run for the hills.
“So, what did you want to ask?” Zion said.
“Since you've known Hayden for a while, have you ever been to his house?”
“A couple of times. Why?”
“His dad invited me over.”
“You’re kidding.”
“Nope.”
Zion looked genuinely surprised. “If Alpha Truman invited you personally, that means something.”
Then he started talking about Alpha Truman. According to Zion, he was one of the most influential Alphas in the north. One of the things that showed how powerful he was? He arranged Hayden’s betrothal to Lily.
My stomach dropped. Great. Just what I needed—another reminder of how out of my league this whole thing was.
During practice, I couldn’t focus. I kept messing up, getting offside, even getting ganked by the opposing team. Hayden called me out a few times—not in an angry way, but enough to make me more flustered.
“What’s going on with you, Phoebe?” he asked.
“Maybe I’m just tired. Mind if I take a break?”
I put my phone down and stepped away from the bench. I needed fresh air after being mentally strangled by the image of Hayden’s dad for the last thirty minutes. I wandered around the yard, letting the early evening breeze calm me down as dusk settled in.
From where I stood, I could see the open garage. Finley’s bike was parked on the far right, and Hayden’s car on the left.
Zion came out with his car keys twirling in his hand. He raised an eyebrow. “You know how to drive?”
I shook my head firmly. “My dad’s traumatized. I once dented his bumper just by messing with the ignition. Ever since then, gas pedals are forbidden in my life.”
Zion laughed. “Someday, I wanna see you drive, babe.”
I rolled my eyes—that was automatic every time he called me some cheesy nickname. Unfortunately, I also smiled. Zion had a way of breaking through my defenses.
“Come on, hop in,” he said, opening the car door and waiting for me to get in before taking the wheel. I didn’t even ask where we were going. I figured, whatever. Better this than spiraling over Hayden’s dad, who felt like Voldemort in an Armani suit.
“The grocery store?” I asked as we pulled out of the driveway.
“Yep. Our fridge is just water and hot sauce. You wanna survive on that?”
“Maybe during a famine,” I muttered. Then I gave him a curious look. “Why’d you finish practice early?”
“Because Hayden called it off after you left,” Zion replied, glancing at me before focusing back on the road. “He seemed worried about you. Even if he pretended he wasn’t.”
I stared out the window, processing that. I let out a quiet sigh and mumbled, “What you said earlier about Hayden’s dad... it just made me even more nervous. I don’t know why this invitation freaks me out so much.”
Zion stayed silent for a moment. The car moved slowly under the fading light of dusk. Finally, he said, “It makes sense you’d feel that way. Alpha Truman isn’t your average guy. But he’s not a monster either. He’s just... hard to impress. But if he invited you over, that means he wants to get to know you. That’s a good sign.”
“But I’m not from their world,” I whispered, mostly to myself.
“You’re wrong,” Zion said, his voice firm. “You’re more than enough. Phoebe, you’re strong, stubborn, and yeah, you get insecure sometimes, but you’re still amazing. Alpha Truman doesn’t want a porcelain doll for his son. He wants someone who can stand next to him.”
I looked at Zion, and I believed him. His words peeled back a layer of doubt inside me. For a moment, I saw myself—not the girl filled with anxiety, but someone brave enough to show up.
When we got to the store, Zion parked the car and, with a fake gentleman act, opened my door. “Welcome to the land of frozen pizzas and sugar bombs,” he announced dramatically.
I laughed. “Don’t tell me we’re living on frozen food all week.”
“Nope. We’re cooking,” he said, pushing a cart. “American style.”
That first step into the grocery store felt like an adventure. Not that I was some sheltered kid or anything—it just felt... different. Shopping with Zion felt a little like something couples do.
“Where do we start?” I asked.
“Veggies first. Gotta pretend we’re healthy,” Zion said, grabbing lettuce. Then he tossed in some red and yellow bell peppers. “Look—traffic light colors. Let’s make a rainbow salad.”
I smirked. “As long as we don’t make Finley’s Frankenstein salad again. Ranch dressing and maple syrup don’t belong together.”
“Scarred, huh?” Zion chuckled. “Alright, meat section next. Steak, turkey, beef, lamb—what’s your pick?”
“Steak,” I said without hesitation.
He nodded approvingly. “Nice. Same here. Medium rare?”
I nodded again, mentally noting we shared the same taste in food.
We headed to the dairy aisle and debated cheese for pasta—mozzarella or cheddar. I said cheddar, he swore by mozzarella. We ended up grabbing both, and Zion said, “If we’re already arguing about cheese, imagine us debating kids.”
I pretended to choke. “Too soon, Mr. Glass.”
He laughed so hard two moms nearby gave us amused looks.
We wrapped things up in the snacks aisle, where Zion added marshmallows, popcorn, and chocolate bars to the cart.
“For movie night,” he said with a wink.
I didn’t say anything. Just smiled. I noticed the dark circles under his eyes and wondered where he even got the energy to goof around like this on no sleep.
But thanks to him, my fear of meeting Hayden’s dad felt a little smaller—though not completely gone.
After checking out, we walked to the car, still joking about who was gonna cook. Zion insisted I needed to learn how to make mashed potatoes that weren’t lumpy. I told him I’d throw them in his face if he got too bossy.
“Phoebe,” he stopped me before I opened the car door. I looked at him, and he looked back—this time, serious.
“Don’t let anyone make you feel small,” he said. “Not even Alpha Truman. You’re not an object. You’re a force. You matter—to someone. To us. Maybe you don’t see it now, but you will.”
I’m lucky to have a mate like Zion...