My Best Friend's Dad is My Alpha

Chapter 11

Chapter 11: Whispers in the Dark

The rain had finally stopped.

I stood in the middle of the kitchen for a moment, smiling to myself as I looked at the tray of slightly burnt cookies sitting on the counter.

Dad really couldn't bake.

I let out a quiet laugh, remembering the way flour had somehow ended up all over his suit while Mrs. Walters scolded him like he was a little boy.

It had been... nice.

For the first time in years, our house hadn't felt empty.

Maybe things were finally changing.

Maybe we were changing.

"I think I'll head to bed," I said, suppressing a yawn.

Mrs. Walters smiled warmly. "Goodnight, sweetheart."

"Goodnight."

Dad looked up from rinsing his hands.

"Sleep well."

"I'll try."

With one last smile, I made my way out of the kitchen.

The mansion was quiet again.

Not the lonely kind of quiet I'd grown used to over the years.

This one felt... peaceful.

As I climbed the grand staircase, my fingers traced the smooth wooden banister absentmindedly.

When I reached the second floor, I slowed to a stop.

Dad's study door was slightly open.

A warm glow spilled into the hallway.

I peeked inside.

He was standing behind his desk, staring at an old leather journal.

His shoulders were tense, and his expression...

I'd never seen him look like that before.

He looked frightened.

"Dad?"

He flinched.

His head snapped up before he quickly closed the journal.

"Oh..."

He forced a smile.

"You're still awake?"

"I was just going to bed."

He nodded.

"Good."

"You should get some rest too."

I smiled.

"You've been saying that to me since I was twelve."

A quiet chuckle escaped him.

"I suppose I have."

"Goodnight, Dad."

"Goodnight, sweetheart."

I lingered for another second before walking away.

Something about that journal bothered me.

Dad looked like he'd seen a ghost.

Maybe it was another business problem.

Or maybe...

I was overthinking it.

I had a bad habit of doing that.

---

Inside my bedroom, I closed the door behind me and leaned against it with a tired sigh.

"What a week..."

My eighteenth birthday.

The party.

University.

Meeting new people.

Everything seemed to be happening all at once.

I changed into an oversized T-shirt and soft sleep shorts before walking over to my vanity.

As I brushed my hair, my reflection stared back at me.

Red hair.

Golden eyes.

Mom's pendant resting against my collarbone.

My fingers instinctively reached for it.

Ever since my birthday...

I hadn't felt like myself.

There was this strange warmth in my chest that came and went without warning.

Sometimes I could've sworn I heard whispers.

Other times...

It felt like someone was watching me.

Not in a frightening way.

Just...

Watching.

I shook my head.

"I'm officially losing it."

My gaze drifted to the chair in the corner of my room.

Folded neatly across it was a charcoal suit jacket.

His jacket.

I still hadn't returned it.

I walked over and picked it up.

It still carried the faint scent of cedarwood and rain.

Why did that smell make me feel so...

Safe?

I hugged the jacket against my chest before freezing.

"What am I doing?"

Heat rushed to my cheeks.

"Seriously, Emilia?"

I quickly folded it again and placed it back on the chair.

I needed to stop this.

Killian Hawthorne was my best friend's father.

A man who had watched me grow up.

A man who had never looked at me as anything other than family.

And yet...

Every time I looked into those piercing blue eyes...

My heart forgot every sensible thought I'd ever had.

I groaned, burying my face in my hands.

"This stupid crush has to end."

Tomorrow.

I'd return his jacket tomorrow.

I'd thank him.

Move on.

And finally get over him.

Simple.

...Right?