Rejected By My Boyfriend's Dad novel Chapter 1

Hope

Have you ever looked at yourself in the mirror and hated your own reflection? I do that every single morning. Why? Because I’m weak and couldn’t live up to my parent’s expectations.

My mother, the Luna of the Mirage pack, never embraced me when I was a child. Her eyes were blank and lifeless whenever I was around. She despised me, yet I trailed after her like a puppy that longed for her approval.

I remember walking into her room with a stick drawing of our family and saying, “Look, Mommy, I drew this for you! It’s our house!”

She took the drawing from my hands, but instead of smiling, she ripped it apart by turning her nails into claws. I watched the pieces of it soar to the floor before she yelled at me in a furious voice. “Annoying, little wretch, stop giving me drawings! You’re no child of mine, and I want nothing to do with a wolfless joke like you!”

Those words hurt, but they didn’t make me cry. Instead, I tried to impress my mother by pretending I wasn’t in inner pain, but as always, it didn’t work.

My parents hated me no matter what, but back then, I didn’t understand that my family would never accept me, but I do now, and a year ago, I ran away from my pack. I had no other choice. No one respected me back home. I was seen as a nuisance, so I packed my bag and left the werewolf family who rejected me behind.

They didn’t even track me down. Funny how my family doesn’t see me as a person just because I don’t have an inner wolf…

I’m the daughter of Alpha Pike, the firstborn child who was supposed to become the Alpha of the Mirage pack, but my wolf never awakened at birth. I couldn’t shape-shift—I still can’t. I’m a failure, while my younger sister proved to be stronger than both my mom and dad at an early age. So they made her the Alpha.

And I…I was forgotten.

My family pretended I didn’t exist while the rest of the pack started to bully me. They called me weak, and the worst part was that Faith, my own little sister, was among those who bullied me. Marcus, her boyfriend, delighted in using me as a punching bag, and Faith would just laugh as he hit me.

I shudder at the memory. I now live in a new city and work as a waitress at Bar25, and since tomorrow is my eighteenth birthday(yay me!), my boss has allowed me to sit and drink during my shift. No alcohol, but my lemon cola is delicious!

I take another sip of my drink and glance down at my phone. My boyfriend, Ryker, still hasn’t called me back after the billion times I’ve tried to get a hold of him, but at least he has now sent me a text message.

Ryker: I’m sorry I can’t make it to your birthday. Something important came up, but I will be home later, okay? See you at the apartment, bye!

While I’m disappointed my boyfriend can’t make it to the bar where I work, I’m not exactly crying. Ryker is sweet, but I’m beginning to see a pattern of him never having time to meet up with me. The only time I see him is in the mornings before he heads off to work, and because of that, I want to break up with him.

“Is this seat taken?”

Startled by the voice, I shriek and spill my drink. It runs over the table, and when the stranger reaches out to catch my falling glass, he gets cola all over his crisp white shirt.

“Oh my god, I’m so sorry! I’m such a freaking klutz!” I hastily stand up, grabbing some napkins from the box of cutlery on the table to clean up the mess. “Here, let me help you with that...”

“It’s alright, it’s just a shirt,” he says with a charming smile as he takes the napkins I offer him.

I can’t help but notice how good-looking he is. His eyebrows are two angry slashes of dark blonde hair, his jawline is sharp enough to cut diamonds, and the cherry on the cake is his perfect facial hair. It looks smooth, unlike the hair on his head, which looks disheveled as if he has run his hands through it at least ten times tonight.

He looks to be in his early thirties, but despite his older age, I swoon a little in my seat. I have a weak spot for leather jackets and tall men with broad shoulders. Do I look okay? I’m wearing my blonde hair in a ponytail, and my blouse should be nice enough…I hope.

“I’m Ethan,” he introduces himself, holding out his hand.

I shake it. “Hope.”

“Beautiful name,” he says, his eyes lingering on my face a little too long.

I blush and can’t help but feel self-conscious in my stained blouse and white skirt. “Thanks.”

We keep staring at each other, lost in each other’s eyes, while goosebumps spread over my arms. Ethan is a complete stranger, yet I feel this strange...pull toward him? And Ethan must feel the same way because he doesn’t leave.

“Mind if I buy you another drink?” he asks, gesturing toward the empty seat across from me.

I hesitate for a moment, wondering if Ryker would approve of me talking to a stranger, but then I remember that he is not even here for my birthday.

Deciding to be a rebel, I say, “Sure, why not?”

Ethan waves the bartender over and orders two more colas with lemon for me. He then proceeds to get some whiskey for himself.

“So, Hope, when you’re not spilling drinks over strangers, what do you do?”

I snort. “You’re a flirt, and while you’re handsome, I will let you know that I have a boyfriend.”

“Oh, I’m not here to flirt,” Ethan smirks and glances down at the plate of sweets beside me. “But if the burning candle on your cupcake means it’s your birthday, I will be bold and say your boyfriend is a...fool.”

I can tell he wanted to call Ryker something way worse, which is why I’m hiding a smile behind my glass of cola. “Why is he a fool?”

Ethan arches an eyebrow. “Because he is leaving someone as sweet as you to spend her birthday all alone.”

I can’t stop myself from laughing. “That’s so cheesy...do women actually fall for your flirting techniques?”

A silent smile touches his lips. “Yes, but then again, it’s usually enough just to let them see my face.”

Oh, so he knows he is handsome? My interest grows, and I giggle in my seat. “I thought you weren’t flirting?”

“I’m not flirting with you. You’re way too old for me.”

Ethan doesn’t laugh, but even though he is deadpanning, I know that he is joking. Anyone can tell Ethan is older than me, but I wouldn’t have cared if I were single. He is more than six feet tall, and his muscles are visible through his shirt. This guy is a freaking snack.

As I continue to assess him, he smirks. “If it’s not obvious, I’m just kidding.”

I snort. “You have a strange sense of humor.”

His smirk only grows. “Says the girl who is laughing.”