Bad Love An Alpha’s Regret

Brian stops at a Walmart.
He parks the car. “I’d tell you to come in with me, but I think the backless hospital gown is going to get some odd looks.” He
grins. “Maybe even get you arrested. Indecent exposure and all that.”
I laugh. “I wasn’t thinking about clothes when you wheeled me out of the ward. But, yes. I need some. I can pay you back.”
He shakes his head. “Don’t mention it.”
His
gaze
rakes me from head to toe, like he’s seeing beneath this thin cotton gown. I hold my breath.
“Keep the truck running,” he says. “And the doors locked. I’ll be back in a few minutes.”
I watch his big form cross the parking lot and enter the store. In this part of the country, there aren’t many stores and this late at
night, I’m grateful he thought to come here first.
The dashboard clock says 9:43 which gives at least two hours until my father’s funeral service.
We’re over an hour from my family’s packlands. It’ll be close, but I don’t see any reason why we wouldn’t make it.
After about fifteen minutes, I move to unbuckle the seatbelt to get more comfortable, and I feel something heavy beside me. It’s
my phone, in the pocket of this hideous hospital gown. I take it out and see a slew of missed calls.
Most are from Adam. But some are from Aaron.
Just seeing his name fills me with so many conflicting emotions.
Hurt, so much hurt.
Sadness that he couldn’t be honest with me.
Anger for the lies and what he did to my father-and all for what? Because I threatened to divorce him? It seems so petty now,
especially if our marriage wasn’t ever valid in the first place.

He calls again as I’m holding the phone and it shocks me so much I fumble my cell.
I watch the screen blink silently. I don’t force him into voicemail or anything like that. But I have no intention of answering. No
matter how many times he calls.
I can’t describe the feeling, knowing that he’s trying to reach me.
Why?
What can he possibly want?
The driver’s side door opens.
I shove the phone in my pocket.
Brian hands me several bags of clothes. There are sweaters and jeans, socks and shoes. I blush at the panties and bra.
He even looks a little red. “I had to guess your sizes.”
“O-okay.”
“Here,” he hands me a slice of pie from the bakery section. “You always liked apple pie, right?”
I’m choking on tears, I’m so touched. “Yeah.”
“Eat first. Then I’ll stand outside while you change.”
He whips a plastic fork and napkin out of his pocket. He even has a small bottle of milk.
“You really break out all the stops when you do something, huh?”
He laughs. “Oh, I don’t know, Leah. I think I’m just good at getting what I want...”