Ryder
Sitting at the dining table of the Westbrook house felt like walking into enemy territory, even though the Westbrooks were family friends. It wasn’t their hospitality or the warmth in Mrs. Westbrook’s smile that made me feel on edge. It was the knowledge that Ariana would be coming down those stairs any minute, and our last encounter still stung like an open wound.
Dad and I had arrived together, as always, showing the united front of an Alpha family. Alpha Nicholas, ever the diplomat, greeted Mr. Westbrook with his firm handshake and booming laugh, as if everything was fine. As if the girl I was supposed to spend my life with didn’t hate me.
“Ryder, have a seat,” Mrs. Westbrook said with a cheerful grin, gesturing to the dining table. Her energy was infectious, always bright and
