The Alpha Donated His Kidney to Make Sins

Chapter 5

Back from the road, Preston sniffed out the shift in the house—like the air had turned.

But I'd always been one to tweak the setup on a whim, so he shrugged it off, shoving a wrapped gift my way. "Work's in a lull—got three days clear to hang with you. Where to? Bit of R&R'll do you good."

I blinked, gobsmacked.

All these years, he'd never once volunteered to shadow me.

Countless trip plans I'd mapped out with fire in my gut? All canned, one "swamped with work, can't swing it" after another.

The no sat on my tongue, but my brain lit up with those scrapped schemes—clear as day.

Five years' worth of grudge, gnawing.

After a beat, I said, "Road trip to the coast. Beaches are my jam."

Might as well send this trainwreck bond off with a scrap of grace.

I unwrapped the box, pulled out the LV cashmere wrap.

Color clashed with my vibe hard, but I draped it on anyway—props to him.

Per my specs, he rolled up in a sporty coupe. Halfway out, that chime hit his phone again.

*Preston, twisted my ankle bad—hurts like fire.*

He rang her up pronto, rerouted the nav—and get this, his screen had her location pinned.

I drilled that app with my stare, quick-googled it: couples' tracker.

At this point, crossed lines or not—what difference?

My skull throbbed, pressure building. I cracked the window, let the rush whip in and drag the rage surge away. "Preston, I ask zilch from you anymore. You floated this getaway—man up and deliver. Doubling back's two hours; you want me marinating in this tin can all morning? My body's shot; line up someone else—"

"Won't trust it to just anybody." He cut in, even keel.

I went mute, heat pricking my eyes.

Ankle tweak for her? Can't trust the pack.

But my solo scorches with fever, the throat-s***h terror, the crash... those didn't rate?

Tough hide on me, huh? No one to ache for, but I'd muddle through.

"Sorry to drag you out again, Preston." The ride scooped Madeline; he eased her aboard.

Casual glance her way, and I locked up—

Same wrap on her shoulders, but hers? Spot-on shade, the one I'd kill for.

"Preston," I ground out, word by word, "who picked that wrap for her?"

Madeline piped up. "Crystal, you hating yours? Shelf was down to two at the boutique—I figured you, being older and all, might lean mature, so I snagged this brighter pop for me."

All puppy eyes. "Wanna swap?"

I blew her off, zeroed in on him, glare like lasers. "You hand-me-down the rejects? What am I, Crystal Chase—a junkyard for sloppy seconds?"

I yanked mine off, flung it out the window into the blur.

Madeline shrank back, mum like a whipped pup. Preston rubbed her shoulder soft. "Easy now."

Buckled her in, slid behind the wheel, tossed over his shoulder flat. "It's just a shade off. You blow up every little thing— no wonder you're always stewing."

Long quiet. Then I snorted. "So you clocked me stewing, huh."

Clocked it, alright. Never gave a damn to thaw it.

We veered for the hospital instead.

By the time Madeline hobbled out, all taped up, the morning had burned away—my beach run still dead in the water.

"Lunch first—Madeline's starving, and you must be too." Preston eyed me, then flicked back to her. "Thalmaris spread or Xiralia bites?"

She beamed, all sugar-fake innocence. "Preston, you remember I dig those? You're a mind reader!"

He cracked a half-smile. "Pay attention, it's easy."

That grin sliced me open, curved blade to the quick.

She pressed on. "What about my go-to drink?"

"Fresh-squeezed OJ."

"Fave fruit?"

"Durian."

"Rib prep I crave?"

"Braised red."

"Crystal's rib style?"

The quiz whiz jammed up, mid-stream.

I iced it. "Wanna coo and spoon? Book a room and tumble. Spare me the mush in my ride."

He scowled. "That the only filth rattling in your skull? Madeline's like kin to me."

Her eyes welled. "Sorry for the mix-up, Crystal. I'll... zip it. Preston, pull over—I'm not that famished."

He shot me a blame-beam, nailed it down. "Lunch hour. We're all in."

I crossed my arms. "Fine by me. Favalon feast it is."

No pushback this time—he rolled with it.

Parked under the restaurant, but stayed planted. "Madeline can't stomach Favalon grub, and that ankle means she needs a paw up. I'll park her with Xiralia, then swing back for you."