Goodbye My Alpha (Taya and Griffon) novel Chapter 187
I needed Jackson to take me home, but he would expect me to get out of bed…and I couldn’t.
As I was thinking about how to get my pills without alerting him to the fact that I couldn’t move my legs, he turned toward the door and called for someone.
“Cora.”
A middle-aged woman in her 40s or 50s came in with a plate.
The woman—Cora, I presumed—looked kind. She had a gentle smile on her face, and her figure was plump. She looked like…a mother.
After placing the food tray on the table, she smiled. “Miss, I don’t know what you like to eat, so I prepared some breakfast according to Alpha Sterling’s tastes. Later, I can make you lunch according to your tastes instead.”
Her kindness made me feel a little less uncomfortable. “Thank you.”
Cora waved her hand. “You’re welcome.”
She walked out and closed the door behind her.
My heart stuttered when she closed the door. She must think we needed privacy, that there was intimacy between.
Now I felt even more uncomfortable than before. I struggled to sit up in the bed, only able to use my arms to shift around.
I leaned against the headboard, a little embarrassed, and asked Jackson, “Can you take me home?”
Jackson didn’t respond right away. After a few seconds, he frowned, heaved a sigh, and asked, “Do you have any other disease besides your heart issue?”
Crap.
“I’m not sick.”
“Then why do you have to struggle to sit up?”
I sighed internally. No matter how well I pretended, Jackson could see through me.
“I have an insufficient blood supply, so I feel weak when I’m tired.”
“Insufficient blood supply?”
His tone was full of skepticism.
“Do you have to hear the words ‘terminal illness’ from my mouth before you believe me?”
Jackson quickly explained. “That’s not what I meant. I just think—”
I interrupted him. “It doesn’t matter what you mean. I don’t have to report my physical condition to you. Or has something changed that I don’t know about, and I’m required to?”
He looked taken aback for a second. No one spoke to an Alpha the way I’d just spoken to Jackson. And humans? Hell, “regular” humans probably rarely spoke to him at all.
He quickly recovered, and a glower slid over his face.
I was treading on thin ice with him, but right now, I didn’t care.
“Would you like to rethink the tone you’re speaking to me in?” he growled.
“No,” I said matter-of-factly. “Especially regarding our history where my heart condition is concerned. And I’m not some simpering she-wolf who will flatter you, if that’s what you’re looking for.”
I stared at Jackson without blinking.
Did he have a conscious? Even remotely?
He was the one who had damaged my transplanted heart and caused my curent heart failure.
How dare he tone police me.
As I was thinking about how to get my pills without alerting him to the fact that I couldn’t move my legs, he turned toward the door and called for someone.
“Cora.”
A middle-aged woman in her 40s or 50s came in with a plate.
The woman—Cora, I presumed—looked kind. She had a gentle smile on her face, and her figure was plump. She looked like…a mother.
After placing the food tray on the table, she smiled. “Miss, I don’t know what you like to eat, so I prepared some breakfast according to Alpha Sterling’s tastes. Later, I can make you lunch according to your tastes instead.”
Her kindness made me feel a little less uncomfortable. “Thank you.”
Cora waved her hand. “You’re welcome.”
She walked out and closed the door behind her.
My heart stuttered when she closed the door. She must think we needed privacy, that there was intimacy between.
Now I felt even more uncomfortable than before. I struggled to sit up in the bed, only able to use my arms to shift around.
I leaned against the headboard, a little embarrassed, and asked Jackson, “Can you take me home?”
Jackson didn’t respond right away. After a few seconds, he frowned, heaved a sigh, and asked, “Do you have any other disease besides your heart issue?”
Crap.
“I’m not sick.”
“Then why do you have to struggle to sit up?”
I sighed internally. No matter how well I pretended, Jackson could see through me.
“I have an insufficient blood supply, so I feel weak when I’m tired.”
“Insufficient blood supply?”
His tone was full of skepticism.
“Do you have to hear the words ‘terminal illness’ from my mouth before you believe me?”
Jackson quickly explained. “That’s not what I meant. I just think—”
I interrupted him. “It doesn’t matter what you mean. I don’t have to report my physical condition to you. Or has something changed that I don’t know about, and I’m required to?”
He looked taken aback for a second. No one spoke to an Alpha the way I’d just spoken to Jackson. And humans? Hell, “regular” humans probably rarely spoke to him at all.
He quickly recovered, and a glower slid over his face.
I was treading on thin ice with him, but right now, I didn’t care.
“Would you like to rethink the tone you’re speaking to me in?” he growled.
“No,” I said matter-of-factly. “Especially regarding our history where my heart condition is concerned. And I’m not some simpering she-wolf who will flatter you, if that’s what you’re looking for.”
I stared at Jackson without blinking.
Did he have a conscious? Even remotely?
He was the one who had damaged my transplanted heart and caused my curent heart failure.
How dare he tone police me.
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