Alpha Daughter {Discontinued}

Chapter Nineteen

READ THE A/N AT THE END.

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Kristina's POV

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"So, child," My grandfather says, walking over to the sink while I headed for the bar on the other side of the kitchen.

The room was small, long enough to be a hall way and only wide enough to just pass as a room. Where the counters were all pressed up against one wall, there was a door on the left, leading to what I assumed to be a cupboard or some sort.

Once seated on one of the wooden bar stools, I returned my attention back to my Pops who was hobbling around with two tea cups in his hand. He gently set them down before the kettle, his fingers trembling.

"Tell me, where have you and your mother been all the time?" He wondered, reaching for the kettle so that he could fill it up with water. Looking over his shoulder, he asked me wether or not I prefer tea or coffee. I replied with tea.

We were alone in the house for some reason. I had no idea where Sophie and Josh had gone, I doubt that Josh would've just left of his own free will, meaning he was probably shooed out of the house after seeing reason. Whatever reason that may be.

Still, while I missed the comfort of his warmth, I was glad. I did want time alone with my grandparents without having to worry that Joshua had broken one of their prize possessions. He tended to touch things when he was in a new environment and more times that not, he broke them.

"Well," I start, sweeping some hair back out of my face. My pops caught the action and smiled faintly. "I don't think I can tell you exactly where but we live in this nice apartment near Mom's business."

"Oh? Business, you say?"

"Yeah. She does hair now. She's got her own little salon." I beam proudly.

The corner of my pops's lip curves up into a small giddy smile as he pours a stream of boiling water into either cup. Shuffling around, Pops pulled out a steaming tray of freshly baked cooks from the oven, setting the tray on the side to cool down.

"Ah, yes, she always did like doing hair. She used to do her mothers all the time when she was little. Putting clips in it and whatnot." He reminisced, staring out the window above then sink as if he could see them out there; my mother and his mate, playing.

"She's doing well for herself." I say, trying to comfort him. He turns to me, a teacup balanced in his hand. He hobbles over to me, his cane resting against the counter behind him. He set one down before me and then turned on his heel, heading for the tray of cookies.

"I'm sure she is. She's a good girl, clever, i knew she'd mange out there on her own. Her mother though," he shook his head, sighing sadly. "Her mother was adamant that she wouldn't be alright, that she'd get hurt or worse."

He took out a plate from one of the cupboards, the rim painted with blue swirls. With nimble fingers, he plucked a few cookies from the tray and set them delicately down upon the plate, arranging them in an orderly fashion.

"It's like that for mothers," He told me. "They worry, too much actually. For human mothers, they feel protect over their children but for a shewolf . . ." He puffed out a breath, shaking his head again. "It's almost on borderline insanity."