Pursuing My Rejected Luna by Cara Anderson novel Chapter 261

Ch.31

Cassandra

I sit in the administrative office long after the work day draws to an end and think about my interaction with Noah. Not the fact that he was angry with me or even the hurtful things he said he explained the rules and I broke them. Fair is fair. The part I can’t stop thinking about is how I spent the twenty–minutes waiting for him before he arrived.

I spent it the same way I spent the hour he left me waiting when I first arrived, planning what I would say in my defense. Only this time, nothing came.

The old me—the one who started learning to justify my actions since I was old enough to understand that I’d need to because I was making questionable choices–would have had three explanations ready to use by the time the door opened.

But the point of the reasons was always deflection. Build a wall of truth around the thing you did, a defense that becomes a door you don’t have to go through. Only thing is, I didn’t have a reason this time.

For probably the first time in my adult life, I made a decision to help someone else without stopping long enough to consider what it might cost me. And that felt good, almost worth Noah’s wrath.

That’s who I want to be, I tell myself. Even if I broke Noah’s rules, that’s not the worst thing to discover about myself. I just need to be more careful not to do something that costs my son the roof over his head.

“Next time,” I say to the empty administrative office, “you ask first.”

“What’s that?” My head snaps up to see Mara leaning in the doorway. “Were you talking to someone?”

Just myself, I don’t answer aloud because, well, the whole looney bin thing. “Mara, hi! What are you doing here?” I answer instead.

She narrows her eyes, watching me for a moment longer, then visibly decides to let it go, her frown morphing into a beaming smile. “The better question is, what are you still doing here? It’s late and I’ve been looking for you everywhere.”

“You have? Why? Do you still need help, because I can-”

“No, no.” She cuts me off. “I just wanted to thank you for volunteering to help today. It wasn’t your job, you didn’t have to. But it made all the difference in meeting our deadlines.”

“You don’t have to thank me. I wanted to help.” I return her smile,

“I do though. Because I saw the look on Cole’s face when he came looking for you.” A growl rumbles in her chest. ” You shouldn’t be in trouble for what you did. I can talk to the Alpha for you-”

It’s my turn to cut her off. “No!” I blurt a little too aggressively. “I mean, please don’t. I need to learn to fight my own battles. And he wasn’t angry, truly.” I lie.

“If you’re sure.” She agrees, still looking unconvinced. “Anyway, I brought something else for you too.”

Liam peeks out from behind her skirt. “Mama, you missed dinner.” He admonishes.

“I’ll leave the two of you. But eat the sandwich I brought.” She sets it on my desk and ushers Liam into the room before she goes.

He walks straight to my desk with the purposeful air of someone on a mission. He’s been with Theo all afternoon

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–I can tell right away by the state of his knees, which are covered in grass stains and a burgeoning hole in one mantleg.

He puts something on my desk. I look down to find a stack of paper and a mess of crayons spilling across the surface. The paper on top of the others has a colorful drawing, a four–year–olds expert rendering of stick people.

“That’s you,” he says, pointing at a figure. Medium height, somewhat circular. “And that’s me.” The smaller figure. “And that’s the Alpha.” A third figure. Tallest.

I look at the drawing for a moment, trying not to break down in front of my son. “Why is the Alpha in the picture? ” I ask carefully.

Liam shrugs. “He gave me his toast,” he says. “That was nice. I like him.”

“He-“I stop. “When did he give you his toast?”

“Breakfast. He had two pieces and I only had one and I wanted more.” He says it with the matter–of–fact quality of someone reporting logistics. “So he gave me his.”

“And that was nice,” I repeat his phrasing.

“That’s what I said.” He picks the drawing back up. “I’m going to give it to him.”

“Liam, you don’t-”

But he’s already leaving, the drawing clutched in both hands, heading with the certainty of a child on a mission toward wherever he’s decided Noah will be. Maybe I’ll get lucky and he won’t find him.

I think about Noah Stephens giving my son his toast without being asked because Liam wanted more and that was reason enough. That shouldn’t make my heart flutter the way it does. Neither should the thought of a crayon drawing of the three of us, like we belong together.

Then I think about last night, Noah kissing Piper with her in his lap, holding her close. And I think about what it costs to want things you’ve already thrown away.

It costs quite a lot.

Cara Anderson Author

Thank you for reading!

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