The Rise of the Alpha

20

At her abode at last, I barged in like I owned the place, not the least bit surprised to smell a batch of homemade cookies wafting from the oven or to see her sweeping the floor clean. "Well, good morning, precious son of mine," she said, the tone of her voice plus the concern written across her features a good indication that she was a little on the annoyed side.

"Mom," I acknowledged her directly, pairing it with a nod and a mischievous little grin that very much attested to how amusing I found her to be in the moment. Anyone with a good momma like mine knows what it's like to get the third degree over even the most miniscule things, and yes, it can be quite humorous at times!

Her initial response nearly had me in stitches, for she stopped sweeping mid-stroke, her eyebrows s.hot up to her hairline, and she folded her arms roughly across her chest (albeit she was still holding on to the wooden handle of the broom). "That's it? That's all I get?" she demanded to know, and if looks could turn a person into stone, I think I'd have been a proper statue by then.

"Well, no," I answered vaguely, brushing quickly past her and speeding into her kitchen to snag a bottle of water. I could feel her eyes digging holes straight through the back of my skull, but rather than letting the action irritate me, the whole thing humored me further. I mean, it's not like I didn't already know what she wanted to interrogate me about!

"So … talk to me, son," she urged me as I turned to meet her gaze, speaking with her hands just as much as she was her words; had those words and impatient gestures somehow gotten lost in translation, the puzzled expression about her would have spoken plainly enough! "What happened last night? Who'd ya find? What did you do? I want details!"

That funny-in-her-own-ways woman never ceased to let me know that she loved and cared deeply for me, even if it meant meddling in my private business with genuine, much-intended motherly concern. To be fair, though, it's not like she's never gonna meet my mate or anything, so I might as well get the spilling of the details out of the way now versus later, right. "Curious, Mom?" I asked in jest, pairing it with a grin that highly attested to the fact that I was just messing around with her.

"Hey … I gave birth to you, now give!" she squawked, pointing her forefinger square at me as she spoke.

Laughing at her expression, I replied, "Okay, okay! Just give me a few minutes and I'll bring you up to speed, I swear. I wanna smash a few of these cookies real quick."

"Fine," she huffed, sweeping the grime into the dustpan to discard it. "I'll be out back," she then declared, then without giving me the chance to reply, she turned on her heels and went about her business, quickly leaving me to my own.

Alone in the kitchen, I inhaled half of the cookies on the cooling rack and downed the bottle of water, then a few minutes later, I ventured out to the back yard and found Mom tending to our large vegetable garden.

"Y'know, this thing's really been testing my patience this season," she remarked of the crop-producing, labor-intensive section of land as I approached her.

"Yep. I know. But, it looks like the squash and zucchini are gonna outshine the rest of the army again this year. Everything else is coming in just … meh," I replied, taking a gander at the aforementioned veggies as I spoke.

"Yeah," she agreed, wiping her brow with the spare, dirty towel that was draped over her left shoulder. "Your father always did say, 'If you give a man a fish, you feed him for a day ... but, if you teach him how to fish, you feed him for many days'. Or, y'know, something along those lines." On that note, she discarded the thing then rose to her feet and motioned for me to fetch her the cup of cold water sitting off to the side.

"Mhmm…," I mumbled as I granted her request, my thoughts drifting back to the good ol' days when my dad was still around and our family was whole. It's been several years since the rogue attack that caused us so much pain and cost us irreplaceable lives, of course, but missing him and longing for a different outcome has yet to lessen, nor do I think it ever will. "He was a bit of a philosopher, that man."

"Sure was," Mom concurred, taking her place beside me on the old, tattered blanket she typically spread out upon the grass beside the garden whenever she was tending to it. "He could totally convince a polar bear to buy an igloo in an ice storm, too, I swear!"

"Ha! Right! That was him! Part smooth talker, too, I guess," I laughed, then I watched her gaze briefly avert to her forearm to examine the gnarly scar that will forever marr it. I knew that look in her eyes; it was her mind going back to a place in time which caused our family insurmountable heartache and incomparable pain. As she r.eleased a heavy sigh, she looked off in the distance like she could see her memories being played out in real time.

Without speaking, I f.ollowed her gaze; that awful night might be history, but the gut-wrenching mark that it left was, without a doubt, still felt strongly and weighed heavily upon both my mind and hers, alike. After a stretch of ensuing silence, I stated, "He wouldn't want us to be this way, mom – all worked up and s.hit over the past," then I pulled her in gently for a side hug to offer her the smidgen of comfort that I possibly could; I say 'smidgen' because I know all too well that nothing I can or will ever say or do could or would ever reverse what's now set in stone. On that note (and wishing to get over the micro pity party we were having for ourselves, might I add), I decided to change the subject. "So … about last night…"

Temporarily distracted, Mom wiped away a stray tear. "Oh, yeah. Spill the beans," she gently ordered, then she inhaled a few deep breaths through her nostrils and r.eleased them all the same, a mechanism she normally utilized in order to calm herself down.

I spent the next…um…I don't know how many minutes recounting the events of the previous night, and the second the term 'mate' rolled off my tongue, she perked right up. "Oh, my goddess, you've finally found your mate…," she practically squawked, throwing her arms around me and hugging me so tightly that she damn-near squeezed the life out of me. "Listen, I understand she's been to Hell and back, but I'd love to meet her just as soon as I possibly can, you hear me?"

Her reassuring enthusiasm had me almost cheesing, but alas, I made her no promises in return; I mean, I still didn't have the slightest clue what my mate's name was, nor did I know a single detail of her own story…yet. "We'll cross those bridges when we get to 'em, Mom. She's gotta pull through first," I answered plainly, and after a bit more chatter of mates and futures and everything in between, I excused myself from her presence to retreat into the woods and let Xavier loose for a run. He'd been pawing at me for one since we'd woken up, and I can ignore him for only so long before his persistence begins to get under my skin. Truth be known, he's just worried about our sleeping mate and wants to be near her, and I'd be a liar if I were to say I didn't share his sentiments.