The Alpha’s Pen Pal (Crescent Lake Book 1) -
The Alpha’s Pen Pal: Chapter 9
It had been several months since the wonderful evening I spent at the ballet with Mom and Dad. I still couldn’t stop thinking about the magical experience.
I could still picture the detailed costumes, still hear the elegant sounds of the full orchestra, and still feel the butterflies swarming in my stomach. I could still feel the tears of joy flooding my eyes as I sat on the edge of my seat the entire night, watching the pristine and exquisite dancers on the stage of the darkened theater.
I even remembered a decent amount of the choreography. Well, that might be due in part to the fact that Mom purchased a video of the performance, and I watched it at least once a week since.
Dad even suggested we turn one of the empty bedrooms into a ballet room for me. He said it was so he didn’t have to listen to classical music constantly, but really, it was because he wanted me to have a safe place to practice.
I had learned almost every routine for every role, but my favorite was the Dew Drop Fairy in Waltz of the Flowers. I wasn’t sure if it was because that was the music from Wesley’s gift or if it was because of the exquisite and intricate choreography. But it was the dance I did most often, weaving around the furniture in my bedroom or the living room or the kitchen as I tried to remember the steps and imitate the ballerinas from the show.
It was this piece that I was dancing along with when my bedroom door opened, and my mom and dad came in with nervous smiles on their faces.
I paused my music and turned to face them, my hands on my hips as I caught my breath.
“Can you come downstairs, please?” Mom asked, her hands wringing in front of her stomach. “It’s time for dinner.”
I nodded and followed them out of my room and down the stairs. My ponytail swayed behind me as I took each step with a little hop.
When we reached the landing, they turned towards the dining room. Through the doorway, I could see Scott and Tiffany—their two adult children—standing near the table, whispering together.
“Hey, kiddo!” Scott called when he saw me, and I skipped to his side, a smile tugging on my lips as he hugged me.
He was twenty and was already running a successful graphic design business out of his home.
Tiffany gave me a soft smile and patted me on the head as I let go of Scott. She was twenty-three and worked the night shift as an ER nurse at a hospital in town.
The smell of the roasted chicken and vegetables Mom cooked for dinner reached my nose. My stomach growled, causing everyone in the room to chuckle.
We settled into our seats. I sat between Scott and Tiffany, and Dad dished out food for everyone, the casual conversation flowing between the adults.
I mostly tuned them out, swinging my feet under the table as the music I was dancing to earlier played in my head. I had to force myself to not hum the tune out loud. I focused on finishing my dinner so I could get back upstairs and continue dancing.
“Dad, you know how I feel about ‘alternative medicine’ doctors! They’re all charlatans, just trying to make a quick dollar by using terms like ‘natural medicine,’ when in reality it’s just a mix of random herbs that don’t actually heal or fix anything!” Tiffany declared.
“This woman was different, Tiff!” Dad argued. “She had credentials and certificates all over her walls!”
“Daaad,” Tiffany groaned, her head falling into her hands.
She shook her head as she continued speaking. “Dad, people can just buy those and print them. Unless they’re from an actual accredited university, it doesn’t mean shit!” She covered her mouth and glanced at me. “I mean anything. It doesn’t mean anything.”
“She gave me these new vitamins,” Dad said, ignoring Tiffany. “She said they’re supposed to help heal cancer cells before they begin multiplying in your body.”
Tiffany looked over at her brother for help, but he stared at his plate, staying out of their argument. My heart, however, leapt up to my throat at his words, a tightness forming there.
“You have cancer?” I asked, my eyes wide.
“No!” Dad said, reaching across the table to grab my hand and squeeze it. “I just like to make sure I’m taking proper care of my body so I don’t get cancer.”
I nodded, and the worry I felt slipped away, replaced by happiness to be sitting there, eating dinner with my family.
“Are you still writing to your pen pal? What was his name? Presley?” Scott asked me, changing the subject, a teasing smile on his face as he looked at me.
My cheeks heated, and I pressed my hands to my face to hide my blush.
“Wesley,” I mumbled in reply. “His name is Wesley.”
“Right, right, Wesley,” Scott said, nodding.
I swallowed down my embarrassment. “Yes, I still write to him sometimes.”
“Sometimes? Try at least once a week!” Dad barked out with a laugh. “I’ve never spent so much money on stamps in my life!”
“Dad!” I cried, my embarrassment coming back.
I buried my face in my hands, my blush spreading to the tips of my ears.
“It seems our Havie has her first crush.” Tiffany chuckled.
“What?!” I shouted, my head snapping up to stare at her. “No! No, no, no! We’re just friends!” I insisted, my arms crossing and uncrossing in front of me vehemently.
“It’s nothing to be embarrassed about, Haven,” Tiffany said. “It’s perfectly normal for you to have a little crush on him. He’s a nice boy, and I can tell from the picture mom showed me he is a pretty cute kid.”
“This is not happening,” I muttered to myself under my breath as I looked up at the ceiling and sighed. “Mom, tell them to stop, please!” I begged her, but she laughed along with my dad, Scott, and Tiffany.
“All of you, leave her alone,” she told them anyway, even though she was still giggling.
“Sorry, Havie,” Scott said, ruffling my hair with his hand. “We’re just teasing. And you’re so cute when you blush.”
I shoved his hand off of my head with a groan.
“I remember I had a crush on Stevie Bernard when I was in 4th grade,” Tiffany said as she cut a bite of her chicken. “He was my first boyfriend,” she added with a sigh.
“You had a boyfriend in 4th grade?!” I squeaked.
She laughed. “I mean, he asked, and I said yes. We wrote notes and brought each other gifts on holidays, and then we ‘broke up’ when he moved to another school.”
“No boyfriends for you,” Dad said, pointing at me with his fork. “Not until you can drive.”
“I’m not interested in boys,” I told him, shaking my head.
“Well, no girlfriends either,” he amended.
“No! I mean…” I sighed. “Never mind.”
I went back to my meal, ignoring their stares, hoping they’d change the subject to something that didn’t involve me.
“So, Mom, as much as I love regaling you all with tales of my hilariously entitled clients, I know there was a reason you called Tiff and me here other than to listen to me talk about work,” Scott said as the conversation dwindled.
Mom and Dad exchanged a glance, then Dad nodded and left his seat to go into the kitchen. Tiffany glanced at me, and Scott took a drink from his water to hide his smile.
“Haven,” Mom began, and I turned to look at her, shoving my shaking hands under the table to hide them. “Haven, this probably won’t come as a surprise to you, but we have something we’d like to ask you.”
My heart pounded in my chest, knocking against my ribs with a force I’d never felt before. Butterflies swarmed around my stomach, and my throat tightened as if being squeezed by a vise. I had been waiting for them to ask for months now, but even knowing it might happen didn’t prepare me for how I would feel when it actually happened.
Dad came back into the dining room just then, holding a cake box, a hopeful smile on his face. “We already think of you as part of our family, but we wanted to ask you…”
He set the box down in front of me, and in purple writing on top of the white frosting, they’d written: Will you officially be our daughter?
I stared at the cake, unable to do anything else. My hands still shook under the table, and the butterflies still flew around my insides. My heart threatened to burst through my chest, and my throat clenched, rendering me speechless.
I tried to swallow, but the action felt foreign to me. I closed my eyes and counted to ten, taking long, slow, deep breaths before I opened my eyes again to glance at the cautiously hopeful faces of my family.
My family. They were already that, had been that for me for longer than I’d truly realized, but they wanted to make it official.
The tears streamed down my face, but I didn’t bother with trying to hide them. I was too happy, too excited, too overjoyed to care.
I nodded at them, choking out words. “I want that. I want that so badly.”
I wasn’t sure if they could understand my words because my voice was so emotional. But my nod seemed to be enough because they all began to cheer and clap in excitement.
Tiffany pulled me out of my chair and spun me around in a hug. “I’m so excited to finally have a little sister!” she exclaimed, and I giggled even with my tears still streaming down my face.
They passed me around to each other, each of them hugging me, all of us laughing and crying tears of happiness. I’d never felt so loved and accepted as I did at that moment. Even all the moments combined over the previous year and a half couldn’t compare.
“Jack! The cider! You forgot to grab the sparkling cider!” Mom yelled over the commotion, and Dad smacked his forehead before heading back into the kitchen to grab the cider.
“Where are the champagne flutes?” Dad called from the kitchen as he rummaged around the cabinets, moving dishes, pots and pans and Tupperware around as he looked for the fancy glasses.
“They’re in the same cabinet they were in the last time you asked me!” Mom chuckled as she rolled her eyes at the three of us. “I swear, your father has lived here for over twenty years, and he still can’t remember where anything is!”
The sound of glass shattering and a body hitting the floor had our laughter coming to an immediate stop.
“Jack?!” Mom called out to him, her voice tight.
Her tense body walked towards the doorway to the kitchen and froze in the entrance.
“JACK!” she cried out, disappearing through the opening.
Time slowed down. Tiffany ran after Mom, her eyes wide with fear. I tried to run after her, but Scott grabbed me around the middle, pulling me back towards his body so I couldn’t leave the room.
I fought against Scott, trying to get to the kitchen, to get to my dad so I could see him and make sure he was all right. But his hold on me was tight, keeping me in place while also trying to comfort me.
His mouth moved as he talked to me, his other hand brushing through my hair as he hugged me against his chest, but all I could hear were the sounds coming from the kitchen. Mom’s sobs echoed through the house, mixing in with Tiffany’s gasp of surprise and then her calm words as she tried to soothe Mom.
“Scott!” Tiffany shouted, her voice clear but shaking. “Call an ambulance!”
He moved his hand from my hair to grab his phone out of his pocket, and I took that opportunity to wiggle out of his loosening grasp since his focus was on the phone call he needed to make.
He yelled, “Haven, no!” but I was already around the table and through the doorway before he could get his hands back on me.
He cursed under his breath and followed me. I stopped in my tracks in the middle of the kitchen, my breath catching in my chest as I stared at the heartbreaking scene in front of me.
My dad was sprawled out on the floor of the kitchen, a small pool of dark red blood forming on the sparkling white tile as it leaked from a wound on the back of his head. The right side of his face looked almost like it was melting; it was droopy and did not match the left side.
His eyes moved around in every direction, the movements of them not in sync with each other. He was unresponsive to Mom and Tiffany, who both sat near him, trying to get him to talk or react to their voices.
I froze in place. My feet were super glued to the floor, unable to move forward to my family or turn and run out of the kitchen to the safety of my room. I didn’t know what was happening to my dad, but I knew it couldn’t be anything good.
My happy tears became tears of sadness as the bright future I’d had a taste of moments before dissolved right before my eyes, leaving behind only distress. Distress and fear of what would become of me in the aftermath of this tragedy.
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