Marybeth
Dad. The word followed me home. It echoed through every mile of the drive. Through every traffic light. Through every turn in the road. It settled into every quiet space my mind offered and refused to leave. Dad. Not Rowan. Not Alpha Blackridge. Not Mr. Blackridge. Dad.
A single word. One accidental word. And somehow it had changed everything. I gripped the steering wheel tighter. Beside me, Eli sat quietly in the passenger seat. The ice pack remained balanced on his ankle. The nurse had assured us the sprain was minor.
A few days of rest. Nothing serious. Yet neither of us seemed interested in discussing his injury. Because the injury wasn't what followed us home. The word was. And judging by the way Eli stared out the window, he was thinking about it too.
The silence laste
