Jandro tugged on his sleeve, pulling his attention away from the people coming out of the house to sign, “That guy look same you but in business suit. They Q-wolf and his parents?”
“No…” Knight signed back in a daze. “That’s my brother…and my parents.”
“Your family?” Jandro asked, his brows raising high with surprise.
“Yes,” he confirmed wearily knocking his hand with the sign.
From the corner of his eyes he could see L-heart watching their conversation carefully.
No meeting each other’s family or friends…
The rule hung in the air between them, even though they were no longer together.
And from the other corner of his eye, Knight could see the family who wasn’t supposed to be here. They’d stopped on the front porch, but they watched him hard. Like an incoming storm on pause.
“Why your family here?” Jandro asked. Because apparently there just wasn’t enough dramatic tension in the air for the kid.
Real answer? Because his Uncle Grady had apparently fucked him. He glanced at L-heart who was now looking from him to his parents with a curious squint. Yeah, the former king of Oklahoma had fucked him royally.
Knight struggled to come up with a fake answer for Jandro, and then decided to distract him instead by pointing out Qim and Grady who had also emerged from the cabin along with Aunt Tu.
But before he could do anything else, the storm unpaused and rushed down the steps toward him. In the form of his mother.
“Alisha, don’t…!” his father called out while his brother Rafes said, “Mom, wait…”
The tall black woman with almond shaped eyes ignored them both. And she kept coming forward like a runaway train until she stood toe-to-toe with her son.
She stared at him, her eyes bright and sharp as knives.
“Mom…” he began.
“Don’t you dare ‘Mom’ me, young man.” She took a step back and gave him the once over before finally saying, “My mother did this to me when I came back from the Viking Era.”
That was all the warning he got before she slapped him so hard, his face cracked to the side…and then she fell into his arms crying.
And just like that, he was Knud again. Not a doctor with a terrible past, but a son whose deliberate absence had broken his mother’s heart.
“Mom…” Knud murmured, holding her tight. “Mom, don’t cry…”
But his voice only seemed to make it worse. His mother wept even harder, her tears smearing all over the front of his shirt. Like she was the baby and he the parent. “Mom…” he tried again.
Knud could feel L-heart’s eyes on him, and it made his stomach curdle. Not that he’d ever bring a human home to meet his family, but if he had, this was definitely NOT how he’d want things to unfold. And though he didn’t want to care, he could imagine exactly what was going through her head considering how their own arrangement had imploded: he must be the kind of asshole who gets off on making women, including his own mother, cry.
But he wasn’t. At all. Fact: he hated seeing his mom cry, especially when he’d caused it. And that was precisely why he rarely made the mistake of letting people get too close anymore.
In the end, he didn’t have to find a way to stop his mom from crying over a son who wasn’t worth her tears. His older triplet, Rafes came over and firmly drew her away.
“Mom, we’re all very upset right now,” Rafes said, glaring at his slightly younger brother as if he hadn’t known exactly why he’d ghosted out. “But perhaps we should let Qim and the boy meet without embarrassing ourselves any further in front of…”
Rafes quirked his head, brows dipping low into a frown. He gave the air a quick sniff, then shot an indecipherable glance at his younger brother before squinting at L-heart. Hard.
He must have smelled his brother all over the human woman he’d brought along to facilitate Jandro’s first meeting with Qim. Yeah, he was definitely Knud again. The cocky bad boy wolf who didn’t look at a girl twice unless he was trying to get into her pants.
Knud waited for one of those judgy looks Rafes excelled at. But instead, their mother abruptly stopped crying, took a good, long look at L-heart, and gasped, “Oh my God! You’re…”
“Yes, I am,” L-heart answered quickly. “But more importantly, I’m Jandro’s social worker.”
Her eyes cut to both Jandro and Knud, her smile turning on like a bright, distracting light. “Who I am beyond that doesn’t matter. Do we understand one another?”
L-heart’s tone was firm, but his mother didn’t answer, just continued to stare open mouthed right along with Rafes. Which made Knud frown. One of the very few things his mother and older triplet had in common was that they were almost never at a loss for words. But right now, they both appeared to be speechless in L-heart’s presence.
“What happening?” Jandro signed over the scene. “Why your family stare at L-heart?”
“Jandro is right, we are being rather rude,” L-heart spoke signed. “I understand some of you are very surprised to see me here, but Jandro doesn’t read lips, so—”
“Tu! Tu! Get over here RIGHT NOW!” his mother suddenly yelled over her shoulder.
On cue, his compact aunt ran over in her pale pink tennis dress looking like an AARP ad for staying fit and fabulous in your fifties.
“What are you doing?” Tu asked her sister. “I thought the plan was for us to wait on the porch, so we don’t overwhelm him—”
She cut short when she saw L-heart, “Oh my God, you’re—”
“Yes, yes…I am,” L-heart said again, cutting her off just as she’d cut off his mother. “It is so lovely to meet you, Ms. Ataneq. As I was telling your sister, I’m here on Jandro’s behalf, so we shouldn’t—”
“But I love your mother!!!” Alisha blurted. “I mean love her. I’m Alisha Ataneq-Nightwolf by the way, Knud’s mother.”
“Nightwolf…” L-heart repeated, cutting her eyes toward the guy she’d known as Dr. Knight. “Your mother is a Nightwolf.”
“Yes, by marriage—did you know your mother is on my husband-approved list of people I’m allowed to hook up with?”
“Mine, too!!!” his aunt exclaimed beside her.
Ok, Knud thought to himself as his wolf cringed inside his chest, so this is what it feels like to be embarrassed as fuck by your family.
For her part, L-heart acted like finding out her mother is on the approved bang list of two middle-aged black women was no big deal. “Why thank you! That’s very kind of you to say,” she answered, gracious as a princess.
“Uh, is your mother Janet Jackson?” Knud finally asked her with a quizzical look.
“No, Ms. Jackson doesn’t have any daughters,” L-heart replied, her perma-smile firmly in place. “And it simply doesn’t matter who my parents are. All that matters is Jandro, right?” she turned and directed this at Tu and Alisha, like a teacher trying to get two unruly students in line.
“Of course,” Alisha agreed—right before asking, “But…do you think I could meet your mother? Because if I ever get the chance to use that free pass…”
“Mom!” both Rafes and Knud said at the same time, neither particularly interested in delving this deeply into their mother’s sexual psyche.
“…it would be ON like TRON!” Tu declared, finishing her older sister’s sentence with a twist of her lips and a frank tilt of her head. “Girl, your mama is FOINE as hell.”
“And really just one of my favorite people ever,” Alisha added, gushing.
“Mine, too!” Aunt Tu shouted. Then she held out an arm to her sister. “I’ve got goosebumps. Do you see these goosebumps?”
“Me too!” Alisha exclaimed, proving that the serious professor wasn’t too far removed from her infamously rowdy billionaire sister.
Tu turned a considering gaze to the ground below her. “Now feels like a good time to faint.”
Knud, being the only doctor present, felt compelled to say, “You can’t choose to faint, Aun
t Tu—”
Only to be cut off when Tu dramatically dropped to the ground.
“And now it’s a circus,” Knud muttered, rolling his eyes and throwing up his hands.
“A circus you brought to our front door,” Rafes pointed out. And there it was, the familiar superiority Knud remembered so well.
“Is she okay?” Jandro asked looking down at the woman who might end up becoming his grandmother.
“She’s fine,” Knud assured the kid.
In the midst of the performance, Tu must have sent her husband a telepathic message over their mate bond because in the distance he could see Grady sign to Qim, “Everything okay. She only playing.”
Qim nodded as if that made total sense, but Rafes looked completely done with his family as he said, “Aunt Tu, please get off the ground. And Mother, please calm down. We are embarrassing ourselves.”
“So you’re dating my son,” Alisha said to L-heart as if Rafes hadn’t spoken at all.
Fuck! Just when he thought his mother couldn’t possibly make things worse. “Mom, no…”
“How long? You seem to know each other…” she gave the air a subtle sniff, “…very well.”
“Okay, can you stop talking, Mom?” Knud asked. “Like, right now?”
“Is this why you haven’t been in contact with us for so long?” Alisha asked, turning to regard him with sad eyes. “Because you’re dating her?”
Knud cut off his embarrassed protest, not quite knowing what to say to his mother’s sincere question. “Mom, I…”
But then L-heart came to stand beside him and stuck out her hand. “It is so lovely to finally meet you, Mrs. Nightwolf!”
A beat, then, “Ohmigod! Ohmigod! Ohmigod! I’m squeeing my pants right now!!!” Alisha cried out as she shook L-heart’s hand with both of hers. “I can’t believe you’re dating my son!!!”
“Wait…I thought she was dating some English heart surgeon—Ethan something or other...” Tu called out from the ground, her eyes still closed but her butting in skills on 100.
“Not anymore,” L-heart answered with a tight smile.
“But why Knud? I mean, he’s a very handsome young man and has always seemed to appeal to women who, between us, really should know better. But this truly comes as quite a surprise.”
“Huge surprise,” Tu agreed from her possum position. But then she completely ruined it by sitting up to ask, “Wait. Were you cheating on Ethan with Knud? Or…wait—” she brushed a few stray pine needles from her shoulders, “Was Ethan secretly gay and Knud was your sidepiece?”
Knud could only sent L-heart a look of gratitude, unable to believe she’d willingly stepped on this landmine for him after what happened Friday night.
But she seemed extra intent on avoiding his eyes as she said, “This seems like the perfect time to remind everyone that I’m the person who will be evaluating whether or not Mr. Wulfkonig will be a good fit as an adopted parent for Jandro.” Her gaze darted down to Aunt Tu. “I believe you’re one of the would-be grandparents, Ms. Ataneq. Is that correct?”
That finally killed Tu’s seemingly bottomless well of silliness. She stood, brushed off her skirt, and code-switched to dulcet tones as she spoke signed to Jandro, “Why yes, that is correct. Hello, Jandro! I’m Tu. It’s so nice to meet you.”
Jandro grinned up at the woman who’d just been prone on the ground only a few seconds earlier. “Tu…” He tapped two fingers over his heart, repeating her name sign. “That’s like L-heart. I gave her that name sign!” He proudly showed Tu the sign he’d created for the social worker who’d taken him to his first doctor’s appointment with Knud.
“Oh, isn’t that interesting,” Tu signed back, waggling her brows suggestively at Knud and L-heart. “You know my mate…er, husband,” Tu shot a quick glance at L-heart, “gave me my name sign. I think you two will have a lot in common. Come with me, I’ll introduce you to everyone. They’re really excited to meet you!”
As nervous as he’d been before, Jandro happily let her take him by the hand and guide him toward the house without any protest. He even grinned over his shoulder at Knud like he might have just won the grandma lottery.
Well, Knud thought to himself, Tu whipping out her crazy flag as soon as they met was one way to put the kid at ease.
Meanwhile Alisha continued to stare at L-heart like she was the second coming.
“If you’ll excuse me, I must accompany Jandro to meet his prospective foster father,” L-heart said edging past Knud’s awestruck mother.
Then with one last gracious nod, she followed in Tu and Jandro’s wake.
Which, Knud realized with an inward curse, left him alone with the family he hadn’t seen in five years.
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Chapter Twenty-One
I don’t remember any of the cases I oversaw while at DWCS but I feel strangely moved as I read through the notes I made on each file. In Drummond, most of my responsibilities involved filing adoption paperwork for citizens who ranged from rich to super-rich. But here at DWCS, I clearly have a wide variety of cases. A few with happy endings, but many are heartbreaking verging on devastating.
And though I have no memory of the last case file I started, tears well in my eyes as I read about the two children locked inside a hot car, one of whom was found dead when the fire department jimmied the door open.
After reading through that particular case, I have to wonder if Grace had misunderstood my reasons for coming home and crying all weekend. I truly can’t imagine witnessing such a horrific thing and wanting to hook up afterwards with my…ah…sex buddy.
But that’s where I told her I was headed. Which makes me wonder, despite what I’d told Grace, if maybe he was more than a sex outlet. Yet another puzzle piece that needs to be figured out…
I circle two fingers around my temple, frustrated to my very core. Why does it seem like the more I dig, the more complicated the mystery gets? I’ve found exactly zero answers in nearly eight hours of pouring over documents and files—in fact, I have more questions now than I did when I sat down at my desk.
Strangely, those depressing thoughts trigger a much-needed memory.
Reframe negative emotions, my High Media team once advised. Never let the media see you frustrated or down.
Okay, reframing, reframing….
I know I didn’t do anything that week except come to work and pick up takeout meals from the same place on the walk home. I have receipts and arrival logs from the bots outside my doors. That means whatever made me decide to go to Kansas must be in these files. I’m just not seeing it yet.
I stand up to address my cubicle neighbor over the partition that separates our work space. “Excuse me, Britney, may I have a moment of your time?”
“Of course!” Britney says, standing up so quickly from her chair, she almost knocks it over.
I’m used to this response. In fact, I can barely remember a time when people didn’t act like this around me. But still I lower my eyes and give her a humble, “Thank you,” before saying, “Was I working on another case before I went on medical leave? One that might not have been included in the zipperfile I was given.”
“They’re actually called zipfiles, Layla” she gently corrects me before giving a little gasp. “Oh no! You told me you preferred to be called by your first name but—is that still alright?”
“Of course it is,” I answer. “And may I still call you Britney?”
The other woman giggles like I’ve made the funniest joke in the world. “I love your humor! No wonder Qim Wulfkonig was so charmed by you.”
“Qim Wulfkonig…” I repeat, because of course I’ve heard of him. You don’t give as much money away as he does before the women in my social circle hear about him—usually with pictures attached. But though my PR team started pitching him as possible dating m
aterial pretty much from the moment he turned twenty-one, we’ve never met. The deaf billionaire tends to keep to himself, and I’ve never gone more than a month or two between long-term boyfriends. So the timing was always off for a potential first meet and greet.
But apparently, I’d met him during my lost months. Could he be the father of my baby? A do-gooder like him would have been totally on brand…
“You don’t remember him?” Britney says, her face falling.
“I’m afraid not.”
“Oh my God, that’s horrible! He’s so cute! And everybody was so impressed when you convinced him to adopt that deaf street kid…”
“Hold on. I did what?” I say, because of all the things that don’t sound like me—that really doesn’t sound like me.
At my old job in Drummond, I’d seen too many well-meaning but inexperienced people trying to adopt poor kids like purses. Daddy Warbucks who thought every orphan with a tragic backstory would be magically healed by the power of money and a fleet of nannies. I’d learn the hard way that sticking as close as possible to the same income bracket was always for the best when it came to foster-to-adopts. Even if this child was deaf, there’s no way I’d ever contact a billionaire out of the blue to foster him. Especially one that lives in another state where I couldn’t easily check on him.
“Well, yes… I mean maybe,” Britney answers carefully. “You did the original assessment, and I just assumed—”
“I did the assessment?” I ask, cutting her off. “If that’s the case, why isn’t it here with the rest of my files?”
Britney frowned. “I don’t know. I mean, it should be…”
But it wasn’t. We couldn’t find a case file for the boy I’d supposedly helped anywhere in the system. And though I left a voice and email message with a Ms. Olcan at the Wichita Children’s Home, she still hadn’t gotten back in touch with me by the end of the day.
I supposed I’d have to walk over and visit her in person tomorrow. Meanwhile, all I had to go on was what Britney and the other social workers cobbled together for me. The boy’s name was Alejandro “Jandro” Hernandez…mother dead from meth overdose. Deaf. Probably why I had been assigned the case—I spoke fluent ASL, along with Welsh, Gaelic, Cantonese, and Mongolian (our family PR team thought it would be cute for me to major in Endangered Languages).
The Brothers Nightwolf Trilogy Page 29