Fickle

Table of Contents Title Page Chapter One Chapter Two Chapter Three Chapter Four Chapter Five Chapter Six Chapter Seven Chapter Eight Chapter Nine Chapter Ten Chapter Eleven Chapter Twelve Chapter Thirteen Chapter Fourteen Chapter Fifteen Chapter Sixteen Chapter Seventeen Chapter Eighteen Chapter Nineteen Chapter Twenty Chapter Twenty-One Chapter Twenty-Two Chapter Twenty-Three Epilogue Bonus Scene Offer Copyright (c) 2023 by Beau Brown Fickle By Beau Brown Chapter One Pilot I’d been branded as fickle since puberty. I always loved flirting. Luring an alpha in made me feel powerful. Desired. I had no interest in procreating. I didn’t want or need an alpha permanently. I didn’t take life too seriously. Not that I was shallow or anything. I simply preferred not to get attached to many people. That was probably why I liked being a flirt. Flirting kept people at arm’s length emotionally. I liked it that way for the most part. If we clicked, I was able to enjoy another person’s body without needing to connect to their heart or mind. It wasn’t that I was coldhearted. I had emotions. I simply preferred not to share them. The only person I was truly close to was my best friend, Cabe. Cabe was amazing. Cabe had a plan. He’d always had a plan, even when we were kids. We’d met in kindergarten. Even then, Cabe was careful. Organized. I’d stack LEGOs and kick them down, but Cabe always built these amazing structures. He’d spend hours creating LEGO fortresses, and I kept the other kids away from them. That was how we became friends. I protected Cabe’s LEGO masterpieces, and he’d share his Hostess cupcake with me at lunch. We’re very different people with very different life philosophies. For example, Cabe could never understand why I loved casual sex. I’d explained it was a great way to have fun without all the messy entanglements that come with emotions. His eyes glazed over with confusion. It didn’t compute for him. But he didn’t judge me. He accepted me as I was. Same way I accepted that he needed the comfort of a relationship with the chicks he dated. Well, chick. Singular. He’d really only ever had one real girlfriend. Lydia. They’d met in college, and they’d been together since. I didn’t really like Lydia. She definitely judged me. But that was all I’d say about that. I didn’t have to date her, so I just kept my mouth shut and smiled when I was around her. If Cabe wanted to be with Lydia, I’d support that. I wanted Cabe happy. He said he loved her, but personally, I didn’t know if I believed him. I didn’t think he loved Lydia. I think he was used to her. She was familiar. It was hard for me to imagine love lasting. I could admit I had major trust issues. Cue violins, right? I had my reasons though. Because of my dad, I’d basically shut down emotionally when I’d turned seventeen. I had spent most of my childhood and adolescence trying to make my dad proud of me. My dad wasn’t a man who shared his feelings much. As a kid, I’d craved any words of encouragement like any other kid. But when it came to my old man, feel-good moments were rare. Still, I’d strived to make him proud. When he’d dragged me fishing or hunting, I’d pretended I liked it. I’d known I was a disappointment to him because I’d sucked at that stuff. I’d been grossed out trying to stick a hook through a worm for bait, and I’d puked the first time I’d shot a rabbit. He’d continued to take me with him, though, because he’d said he was trying to make a man of me. I’d kept going because I’d yearned for his approval, and I’d wanted to please him. We’d gradually formed a bond over how bad I was at shit. My dad had mocked me relentlessly, but so long as I laughed and didn’t show it bugged me, we’d been good with each other. Then I made the fatal mistake of getting a crush on a boy in high school. My teachers had always drilled tolerance into our adolescent brains. I’d stupidly thought that the world was the way my Social Studies teacher, Mrs. Cleo, told me it was. I woke up real fast the day I came out to my dad. When my dad found out I’d kissed a boy at school, it was like he decided he hated me overnight. A switch flipped, and he’d tried to beat me to death. Dad had done a month in jail, and Mom kicked me out of the house. Apparently, I’d become the spawn of Satan from that one little kiss. The only reason I hadn’t ended up on the streets or in the system like most kids in my situation was because Cabe’s family had taken me in. Cabe and his parents had always been there for me. I felt closer to his family than my own blood. The sad part was I was now twenty-five years old, and I still hadn’t gotten over that traumatic experience. My parent’s rejection was the reason I was so scared of getting close to anyone to this day. It’s just that when you trust someone loves you, and it turns out they truly didn’t, it’s scarring. If my own parents hadn’t loved me, would anyone ever really love me? “Are you working or napping?” My trip down memory lane ended abruptly as Cabe waved his hand in front of my nose. His dark blue eyes were curious. I laughed while grabbing a towel and wiping the bar distractedly. “Sorry. I didn’t notice you come in.” “I’ve been sitting here almost five minutes,” Cabe grumbled. He leaned his chin on his palm and sighed loudly. “You’re going to get fired.” “No way. They love me here.” “We’ll see. If you’re ignoring the customers, why would they keep you?” “Someone is grumpy. You need to