FRACTURED (21 page)

My second thought was that his 'fender bender' had taken place in my car. Two TTs and two car accidents―a perfect score.

I sighed and tossed the phone down before proceeding to the living room. The three still stood, not making themselves comfortable. They looked stiff and awkward.

“Ruby,” Alistair started. “Is everything okay with Cooper?”

“Yes. He's fine.”

“Brilliant,” he replied with a boyish smile. “Do you think there is any chance you'd be willing to let us watch a little football on the telly?

At least until he returns?”

“Sure. Whatever you want,” I agreed, heading back to my room to retrieve my phone. I thought it best to have it near me just in case Cooper was going to announce his arrival. It would give me time to clear out the troops.

He smiled at me as he plopped on the couch with Janner not far behind. Beckett, on the other hand, made his way to the kitchen, opening the fridge for a peek. His frown spoke volumes.

“You've got nothing in here. How in the bloody hell are you supposed to keep your strength up with pickles and ketchup?”

I chuckled to myself. They didn't know about my magical drawer of takeout menus. I hadn't had to use it for quite a while because of Cooper's culinary prowess, but in light of all the changes to our living arrangements, he hadn't been to the store. I never bothered going.

“Watch and learn, my British friend,” I smiled as I dramatically pulled the handle and unveiled the piles of folded paper. “I may be the sole reason that takeout was invented. What are you guys up for?”

“Pizza!” the two on the couch shouted out in unison over top of the ruckus on the television. I poked my head around the corner to see what kind they wanted.

“I don't know how it works in England, but on this side of the Atlantic, you have to be a wee bit more specific about what you'd like
on
your pie.” They didn't take their eyes off the screen to answer. With a sigh, I trudged in there, hoping that if I stood in front of it I would actually get an answer. “So, should I just pick something, or―” I cut myself off when I saw what they were too engrossed in to answer me.

“Wait, I thought you said you were watching
football
? This is
soccer
.”

“No, love, it's football. Fucking Americans,” he muttered under his breath.

“Well, this fucking American is trying to feed your superior British ass, so if you would be so kind as to direct your attention this way for two seconds to tell me exactly what it is you'd like, it would be super, or
brilliant
, if you prefer.”

He gave me an impish grin before he rattled off what he wanted.

Janner followed suit. Beckett had the good sense to write it down as orders were being barked out over the roaring television.

“Do we need anything else?” I asked, grabbing the phone to dial.

“Beers!” the couch-dwelling duo yelled in perfect synchrony yet again. I looked to Beckett, and he gave me an impassive shrug.

Apparently he was on board with their plan.

“Well, I can't exactly order those. Somebody's going to have to walk down to the market and get them.”

I wasn't sure what the best plan of action would be. Should I go get them myself and leave the trio unattended, or should I send one of them with the explicit instructions that death would rain down upon them all if there was even the slightest deviation from my orders? They did still think that I was a killing machine. I wouldn't have pissed me off if I were them.

With Beckett nominated for the task, I shelled out some money to him for brews, surprised by how much he said would be necessary.

Apparently, they planned to get a little rowdy. Cooper really wasn't going to be pleased when he got home.

After lecturing Beckett ad nauseam and ordering the multiple pizzas to feed four werewolves―Cooper would want some too, once he calmed down―I plopped myself down in the armchair and pretended to know what was going on. The announcers were virtually impossible to understand with their thick Scottish accents, and I had no clue who I was supposed to be rooting for or how the game was even played. When the blue team scored a goal, I cheered, wanting to seem enthusiastic about watching. I was met with death glares from the couch commandos.

“You never, ever,
ever
cheer for Chelsea, Ruby. It's bloody blasphemy,” Ali scolded. “You should be thankful that Becks wasn't here for that slip-up. He'd have gone mad.”

“Right. Sorry,” I replied, shrinking into my seat. “Red guys. I'll cheer for the red guys.”

“Bloody right you will,” he muttered under his breath.

Ten minutes later, Beckett returned with the entire imported beer selection from the liquor store. Box upon box was unloaded into the fridge, making it serendipitous that there hadn't been any food in there to occupy the necessary space for their beverages. Beckett popped the caps off of four bottles using some fancy countertop trick, then made his way into the living room to distribute the first round. When he thrust one toward me, I smiled and accepted. I felt like one of the boys.

“Ruby cheered for Chelsea,” Alistair baited from the far end of the couch before turning a mischievous grin my way.

“Turncoat!” I yelled at him, chucking a pillow at his head that he easily ducked.

“She didn't...,” Beckett whispered, turning disbelieving eyes my way.

“It's true,” Janner concurred. “Shall we vote her off the island?”

Beckett slowly shook his head in negation.

“We'll have to teach her a lesson later.” The closest thing to a smile that I'd ever seen on Beckett flashed across his face. “A few more beers first though, eh?”

At that second, a goal was scored on a 'breakaway' of some sort, and they all shot to their feet cheering, then chugged their beers in a contest to see who could slam their bottle down first. Janner won that round and quickly ran to grab fresh ones before the game kicked off again. When he returned, he'd brought an open one for me too.

Much to my dismay, it was only minutes before the red team―Manchester United―scored again after some man bounced the ball off of his head into the goal.
I thought they were supposed to use
their feet?

Again, they all shot up and downed their drinks, only this time they insisted that I join in the race. I'd never tried to guzzle a beer before, and it wasn't an especially successful effort, but with minor spilling, I choked it down, dragging my mouth across my sleeve to clean my face afterward.

I was met with a wall of stares as I slammed my bottle down. Apparently I needed to work on my chugging skills.

“You'll get the hang of it,” Alistair called, heading to the kitchen for yet another round. As he did, the doorbell rang, signaling the arrival of the pizza. I sighed in relief; I was going to need it if we were going to keep up drinking at that pace.

“Hurry, Ruby. They're back on the pitch!”

“What?” I asked, fumbling with the pile of boxes stacked precariously in my arms. “What does that even mean?”

“He means they're on the field and ready to go,” Janner called from the sofa.

“Why do you guys have to call things such weird names?” I lamented as I laid out the food on the island.

“So much to learn...,” Beckett patronized, shaking his head disapprovingly. His dry sense of humor was oddly refreshing. The whole scenario was.

By the time the second half began, I was five beers in and feeling it.

Janner had graciously offered to explain the basics of the game to me, so I joined him on the couch with the others so I could hear over the general volume of the shenanigans. The four of us were cozily crammed on the sofa, drinking, eating, swearing, and shouting like crazy people.

'
Hooligans,'
Beckett had called us with a look of pride.

They taught me chants and even random little dances that they did after every favorable call or goal, and I soaked them up like a sponge, enjoying every second of our tomfoolery. It was the most fun I'd had since I returned.

I'd forgotten all about Cooper in his absence, but we all snapped to attention when he stormed through the door, his look murderous. In fairness, we were quite a sight to behold. Our team had scored in the final minute and we were dutifully celebrating, me propped up on Alistair's shoulders, beer in hand as the boys all jumped up and down chanting between swigs of beer. The merriment quickly died as Cooper's anger permeated the air.

“What the
fuck
do you think you're doing?” he growled, standing in the doorway.

I tried to scramble down off of Alistair, but only managed to fall back onto the couch in a heap, spilling my beer all over myself. The UK

trio was suddenly silent, which was a stunning contrast to moments earlier. Beckett reached for me to help me up, and Cooper growled.
Truly
growled. I looked up to see my golden-eyed alpha desperately close to Changing. Explanations were needed and fast.

“Everything's fine,” I offered, tripping over my own feet as I walked toward him. I was beyond drunk, and my vision seemed to suffer because of it. “We were just watching some soccer.
Football
! I mean football,” I slurred, stumbling over the empties piled on the floor. They scattered like bowling pins after a strike, and I triumphantly threw my arms up and cheered as if I'd just bowled one. Cooper was not amused.

“You're drunk,” he rumbled, flexing his hands.

“Yes. Yes, I am, but it's cool. Everything's cool, Cooper. Look! We have food! Why don't you c'mon in and have some,” I said, grabbing his arm to usher him in. He didn't budge. “There's beer too.”

“It doesn't look like there could possibly be any left.”

“It's in the fridge. I'll go get you―”

“Don't. Move,” he snarled, his eyes pinned on the boys. “Why are you three in here? I'm certain I told you that you were never to be in here without me present. Was I not clear? Shall I make myself clear?”

“We arrived and waited for you upstairs, but when you didn't return, we decided to come down and see if we could watch the game. Maybe eat dinner,” Janner replied weakly, hoping to diffuse my tightly wound alpha.

“And is that what I
told
you to do? No. It isn't. I told you to wait for me if you arrived here first. It wasn't a request.”

Alistair stirred uncomfortably, clearly wanting to say something and knowing it might be more to his advantage to keep quiet instead.

Cooper eyed him wildly.

“Something you'd like to add, Alice?”

“I was hungry. I thought it might be nice to have dinner with Ruby.

To get to know her more.”

Cooper snapped.

“I'll decide when you eat, shit, and socialize, is that clear?” He'd closed the distance between himself and them in a blur, and it made my head dizzy. “She is not yours to get to know, understood?”

“She's not yours either,” Alistair muttered under his breath.

Fuel to the fire.

“She is mine, make no mistake about that. She is my family, my friend―my pack. Any harm that befalls her will be avenged so ruthlessly that Satan himself will turn away from the brutality.” He pulled Alistair closer, so that their noses were nearly touching, his eyes burning through the young wolf. “Do. Not. Touch. Her.
Ever
.”

Alistair didn't struggle. His boys looked on, clearly debating their next move. I don't think they wanted to challenge Cooper, but I could feel that they didn't want to stand idly by and watch their friend―their brother―be killed. I didn't want to watch that either.

“Cooper,” I called, emanating whatever calming vibes I could given how worked up I was. I'd never seen him so vicious. His ever-evolving persona was taking on even more of Sean's qualities. As was often the case, that was not the time to point them out. “I got your message after I'd let them in. It's my fault really. I shouldn't have ignored it, but they were already watching the game and we were ordering food. It was...
fun.
I haven't had that in a long time.”

He wouldn't turn to face me, still boring holes through Alistair's face with his gaze. I did feel his hostility waver ever so slightly though, so I kept talking.

“Please, Coop. Let him go. He didn't mean anything by it. I know what it's like to have a mouth that gets you into trouble.”

His yellow eyes finally turned to burn through me. He dropped Alistair onto the couch like a ragdoll before stalking towards me.

“You may trust them, Ruby, but I'm far less convinced.”

“Then why did you take so long to get home if you were so worried?” I asked, trying to find fault in his logic.

“I was detained by Portsmouth's finest,” he grumbled. “Apparently, they don't enjoy being ignored or challenged.”

“What did you do, Cooper?”

“I was trying to reach you while the reports were being filed by the officer on the scene. He didn't like my lack of focus and tried to take my phone away,” he said, clenching his jaw. “...I protested.”

I cringed.

“Bad call, Coop. What were you thinking?”

He looked around the room theatrically then gave me his 'I could ask you the same thing' face.

“I was thinking that I needed to protect you, that's what I was thinking.”

“So you've been in
jail
this whole time?” I asked incredulously.

“Not the whole time.”

“Well, how did you manage to talk your way out of charges?”

“I didn't,” he replied flatly. “I'm going to have to send Alan a fruit basket or something.”

I exhaled heavily.

“Thank God he was there. Cooper, you could have been in real trouble!”

“And you could have been in worse,” he shouted, snapping a look over at the boys. “You three. Out! Now!”

Without skipping a beat, they filed out like good little soldiers, making their way upstairs. My heart sank as Ali gave me a sad glance over his shoulder before closing the door behind him. The air was full of tension, sadness, and longing. Those three had been displaced, forced from the only family they'd known. Cooper had every right not to trust them, and I knew he was going out on a limb for me in letting them stay temporarily, but I just couldn't write them off. They were growing on me.