by Amanda Milo
I nod. “Next week’s notes. But this time for Sunday school. I’m long overdue to switch places with our Youth Pastor.”
“Ah. I’d almost pay to see you teaching them. You light up when you’re around kids.” She rubs at her ankle absently, which makes me want to tend to the spot for her. Just walk up to her, have her wrap her arms around my shoulders to brace herself, and I’d raise her leg and rub her ankle (and probably think really unvirtuous thoughts the moment my skin met hers). More and more, I’m experiencing drives to take care of her, and it’s slowly driving me nuts to clamp down on my instincts. “Anyway, I have some good news,” she says with a tired grin. “In a few weeks, you’ll be able to go back to devoting all your time to church again.”
“Oh?”
She straightens and places her hands on the small of her back, stretching.
The action strains the confines of the tank top Finn ordered her to wear. As I watch her breasts try to pop out the top, I hate Finn, and I love him.
“—but I have to be honest with you: I’m going to miss you like crazy.”
Wait. What?
My eyes leap from her visibly pebbled nipples to her eyes. It isn’t my caretaking instincts hammering at me now. At least, it’s not just my caretaking instincts. I would like to rub her back for her because it’s obviously hurting. But I would also like to rub her everywhere. “What?”
She ducks. “I mean, we will miss you like crazy.”
“Miss me?”
She gives me a confused look. “Well, yeah. You’ve… become part of the family.” She shrugs, the gesture entirely a sad one. “It’ll be good for you to get your life back, I know that. It’s just—I know it’s crazy, but I’ve grown attached to you.”
“I’m attached to you too,” I blurt.
At her surprised glance, I drop my gaze from her face. “Can you back up and tell me your news again? I zoned out and missed something important.”
“Oh!” She sounds relieved. “Gotcha. Well, the best babysitter we ever had—prior to you—was this sweetheart of a girl named Carly. She came into the pub today and we got to talking and she said she’d love to babysit for us again. She said she’s free after Christmas, so…” Sue hobbles past me to the island to one of the barstools. “Your time will be your own again in just a few weeks.”
“Weeks,” I wheeze, sucker punched.
“Yeah,” she says sadly. Her eyes drift to mine, and I would only be capable of tearing my gaze away if she ordered me to. “I don’t know how I’m going to break the news to—”
“MOM! You’re home!” Maggie calls excitedly, dashing into the kitchen to reunite with her mother while my world ends.
“What were you up to?” Susan asks her. “Where’s Char and Ginny?”
“The trampoline,” Maggie explains. “Ginny and Charlotte told Deek they’d watch me while we played. Can I have ice cream?”
Charlotte and Ginny’s groans can be heard two full seconds before their arrival. “We told her she had to wait and ask when you got home,” Ginny explains, trudging into the kitchen.
“Did you eat your vegetables?” Susan asks.
Maggie grimaces. “Sort of.”
Susan’s eyes narrow. “What does ‘sort of’ mean?”
Maggie points to me. “Deek ate them.”
I nearly drop to the floor at Susan’s laser-like stare. “Explain.”
Resisting the urge to crouch, I raise my shoulders. “Her Brussels sprouts kept rolling off her plate. I didn’t want to waste them.”
Everyone but Maggie is making a face. At me. I give in to the urge to crouch on the tile after all.
“You ate them off of the floor?” Susan asks.
“As a wolf,” I explain lamely. “It’s not… you know, somehow, it’s less gross than it sounds.”
“Brussels sprouts are gross all the time,” Maggie corrects.
“Not when they’re fried in bacon grease,” I contend. “Maggie, you missed out.”
“You fried her vegetables in bacon grease?” Ginny asks.
“The pub does that too with vegetables,” Susan tells her. “They are crazy good,” she admits.”
“You’re saying frying it in bacon grease makes it taste good? Brussels sprouts? Really?” Charlotte questions.
“Anything,” Susan and I say together with real feeling.
“It’s approved for the keto diet,” I tell them. “Look it up.”
Ginny pulls out her cell phone. “I’m going to verify this.”
“Maybe it is, but I bet they don’t say anything about eating them off the floor,” Charlotte points out.
I shrug. “Bet you won’t find anything in the keto literature that says you shouldn’t.”
Ginny laughs. “Nice comeback, Deek.”
Still crouched, I drop a bracing hand to the floor to take a little bow. “Thanks.”
“Since we’re all here,” Susan starts, a hesitant quality to her tone, “we need to make an announcement.” I swear I can feel her gaze on me.
Charlotte—who has been waiting (patiently?) all week for me to magically manage to woo her mother, marry her, and live happily ever after with their family forever—squeals in delight. My eyes jump up and pin her, trying to convey caution.
Everyone is looking at Charlotte—and she’s looking between her mother and me.
Charlotte lowers her fists, which she’d been raising in a sort of victory cheer. Her excitement melts to confusion, then concern. She glances at me again, apologetically. “I think I got ahead of myself.”
“About what?” Susan asks.
Charlotte gestures to her. “No, no, you first. What’s the news then?”
Susan is eyeing her, one eyelid lowered in a suspicious squint. “Okay, well, Carly was at the pub today.”
“Carly?” Charlotte asks, her voice warming. “Aww, I miss her. She rocked! Did you say hi for me?”
“More than that,” Susan says. “She’s coming to babysit in December.”
Charlotte and Ginny go very still.
Maggie does not. She looks straight at her mother and crosses her arms. “She can’t babysit here. It’s Deek’s job.”
Susan finger-combs her hair behind her little ears. “It won’t be anymore, honey. Deek has a life he’s putting on hold for us. It’s not fair to ask him to do it forever.”
“But, Mom…” Charlotte says, mouth opening and closing like a fish, her gaze shooting between Susan and me like she’s at a ping pong match.
“But what?” Susan asks.
Ginny puts a restraining hand on Charlotte’s shoulder, because on Sunday when I admitted to them that Susan is my anamchara, I explained that I’ve been forbidden from telling Susan that she’s my soulmate.
I didn’t tell them to tell her for me, because I’m above using children like they’re proverbial love notes written on Lisa Frank notebook paper to be passed during class.
(Yes, I know what Lisa Frank school stuff is. I was born in a wolf den, not a barn.)
I also didn’t instruct them to tell Susan because I’ve become convinced that Finn is right in regards to directness. If I stood, walked to Susan right now, and declared to her that she’s my soulmate? She’d panic. She’d retreat, probably try to tell me that I’m mistaken.
I’m not.
She’d probably imagine a million scenarios of how badly a future partnership between us would burn down to the ground—all because she’s been burned so badly she can’t see any hope or point in risking herself again.
I understand why she’s got walls. Unfortunately, I don’t know how to help her over them yet. In order to convince her that we make a good team—we already make a good team—I need to convince her that I’d never hurt her. I’ll never betray her, never dishonor her, never abandon her.
She can trust me. She already trusts me with her family—now I need to convince her that I can be trusted with her heart. Somehow.
Susan is watching the girls like she thinks they’re acting a little c
razy and she can’t quite put her finger on why that is. When Charlotte seals her lips and averts her gaze, Susan looks confused but turns her attention to me. “Annnyway. Back to the topic.” Her smile, which is where my gaze is aimed, is sad. Seeing the downward bow and tight creases of it tugs my eyes up until my stare is locked to hers.
Gently, she says, “I guess this is the beginning of goodbye.”
CHAPTER 40
SUSAN
Following my announcement, I thought Deek might be quietly pleased. Instead, he looked like a bomb had gone off.
The vibe throughout the whole kitchen was weird. Maggie was pouting—she doesn’t remember Carly at all, so she can imagine no one better than Deek. Really, Deek’s so honest-to-goodness good with her that it’s no wonder she’s developed prejudice against having anyone but him around. It’s going to be hard to fight her misgivings.
But even Charlotte wasn’t enthusiastic—and she loved Carly.
Deek himself though? He was being more than his characteristic quiet self. He was almost… troubled.
On one hand, I’m surprised. You’d think this would be great news for him. But on the other hand, it secretly warmed my heart a little. Okay, more than a little. It says a lot about how nice a guy he is that he’s not looking forward to the day when he gets cut loose from playing an awesome babysitter for us anymore.
When the girls retreat to the backyard to play on the trampoline (surprisingly not after consuming ice cream—hearing the news that Deek will be leaving put Maggie in such a terrible mood that she said she wasn’t hungry anymore), I head to my room to change into regular clothes.
Hair up in a knot, sporting leggings and a wine-colored layered tunic with an artfully uneven hemline, I pad into the kitchen and pull the cranberry juice from the fridge.
I nudge the door shut with my hip, revealing Deek.
I gasp and drop the juice.
“Sorry!” Deek groans, catching it with an effortless yet lightning fast grab.
Laughing, I take it back from him. “Déjà vu.”
His eyes meet mine, questioning.
“When you first got here. You spooked me and I ended up wearing my tea.” I gesture at myself. “At least this time it was a closed container.” I turn to get a cup from the cupboard. “How was your day? Besides work, I mean.”
“I need to—good. It was good,” he replies, cutting off what he’d started to say in order to be polite and answer my question.
“What do you need to do?” I ask, glancing over my shoulder at him and capping the cranberry. I move to return it to the fridge. Before I set it on the shelf, I look to him, watching his eyes drop from where they’d been on my face. “Want some?”
“No. But thanks.”
“Okay.” I shut the fridge and grab my glass of juice, sipping it.
“I don’t want to leave in December,” Deek says suddenly.
Startled, I blink at him.
He’s not looking at me. He’s making fists, stacking them on each other, and holding them tightly over his chest like he’s preparing to protect his heart. “I want to have Christmas with you—”
“Well, you can—”
“And I want to have New Years.”
“Wow. Well, Deek—”
“Lucan,” he corrects. His eyes flicker up to mine. “Call me Lucan.”
“Oh.” My heart is beating strangely. And sort of fast. “Lucan.”
His eyes fall shut. “Thank you.”
“Why does everyone call you Deek?” I ask.
He snorts softly, his eyes opening again, gaze hitting my chin or maybe even my lips. “I was elected to be a deacon at the church when I was nineteen.”
“Young,” I murmur.
He nods. “I want to help people. I help a lot of people through the church.” He shrugs. “Anyway, our pastor at the time ordained me, and because I was one of three deacons, I became Deacon Lucan—which was ridiculous to say and even more to hear. Especially as a scrawny teen. It got shortened to Deek, and it stuck. I’ve been Deek ever since.”
I smile. I don’t know what about this strikes me as cute, but it does. I shake myself though and get to the point. “You know, I think we made it pretty clear today that none of us want to see you go. We’ll be thrilled if you want to stay til New Years. I’ll call Carly and schedule—”
“Then I want Valentine’s Day,” Deek—Lucan—says suddenly.
I set down my juice.
A muscle is ticcing in Lucan’s jaw, but it’s not from anger. He’s beginning to bristle with fur—a dead giveaway that he’s nervous. “And then I want St. Paddy’s Day—”
“You werewolves are really into St. Paddy’s Day,” I share unthinkingly.
“You have that impression because you know a lot of Irish wolves,” he says simply.
I nod, thinking of the pub. “You should have been there when I wrote the daily special as ‘Saint Patty’s.” All those Irishmen and women squawking at me in their pretty accents. ‘Patty is a woman! It’s Saint Patrick—Paddy!’
“Susan?”
“Hmm?” My eyes focus to find Lucan’s gaze locked to mine.
He swallows. “I don’t want to leave you.”
“Maggie doesn’t want you to go either—” I start.
Lucan’s head drops, and so does the hand that was combing up the back of his neck, which is now a mane of fur.
“—so you’ve got to know we’d love to have you stay. But… how long are you thinking? Carly won’t be able to wait forever. She’s great—she’ll get snapped up and then we’ll be back to where we started. So… how long do you want to stay, exactly?”
The silence following my question is so quiet, I’m struck at how odd it is that I’m hearing thunder. The sky was clear a minute ago. But then I realize my heart is pounding that loudly.
“You aren’t ready for me to answer this question,” Lucan tells the floor quietly. “But please don’t make me leave you,” he says low, his voice resonant with feeling. “You don’t know what that would do to me.”
“Well… at least let me start paying you.”
“No.”
“Lucan,” I sputter. “You can’t keep slaving away for free. And I know that Finn said you wouldn’t be taking money for this job, but by the end of day one, I knew you were worth it. I’ve been taking out your fee from my paycheck every week figuring the day you left, I’d slip a wad of cash into your duffel bag. You’d get back to the Pack and your bag would look like you’ve been money laundering for months.”
Lucan meets my eyes. “I won’t take your money.”
I snatch my juice and knock it back like it’s something a lot stronger than cranberry. “You won’t accept your paycheck but you want to keep working the job? Why on Earth—”
“Because,” Lucan says, gaze still holding mine. “Maggie is wonderful.”
My heart warms. “I’m glad you—”
“And Charlotte is great. And so is Ginny. And I don’t want to leave you,” Lucan adds, the abnormally strong eye contact adding so much weight to his statement. “Ever.”
I can only stare at him.
With no small amount of shock, I can’t fail to notice he’s staring right back.
I’m frozen, and I don’t unfreeze when Lucan takes two swift steps forward, slides his hand up my nape, and fists his fingers in my messily tied up hair. It tumbles down, bouncing against his wrist and fanning out.
His gaze is level but full of nerves, and I don’t move a muscle as he leans in and fits his lips over mine.
CHAPTER 41
SUSAN
I feel like I’ve never been kissed before. Lord, this feels good. My body is hot everywhere and my knees—I can’t feel them, and my hands find Lucan’s arms and then his chest and then they’re on his shoulders. My arms slide around his neck, and his lips are whisper-soft.
They’re also firm, so strong, sliding over mine, his breath a silent rush between us, and if his eyes are open, I can’t tell. Because mine have sl
id closed, and the heat of him, his scent, his hardness everywhere he’s touching me and I’m touching him—I’m instantly drunk on it.
“Susan,” he groans, his chest broad and exciting against mine. His heart is pounding, and something about this makes me hold onto his neck tighter, makes me tilt my head, makes me take control of the kiss that started bold but has turned cautious.
Or maybe it’s simply that my partner is untutored. Lucan sucks in a breath like he’s shocked or maybe on the verge of heart failure when I lick the seam of his lips.
This sound from him—this reaction, considering the way I feel his heartbeats slam harder from his chest into mine—has my eyes sliding open to watch him from under my lashes, my gaze suddenly feeling heavy-lidded as I tease his lips into parting enough to admit my tongue.
His eyes are wide, and the fist he’s made at my nape still grips my hair, but he isn’t using it to guide me. Now he’s just holding the heck on.
His other hand, which had been at the small of my back, slides up, cradling me to him. There’s not an ounce of demand in his touch, yet I can taste the strength of his desire. That Lucan desires me—me—it’s… revolutionary.
He wants me.
His breath shudders from him, his chest actually shaking with the expulsion. His eyes and breathing and the gentle way he’s holding me… it’s like he’s in a state of awe.
“More,” I whisper to him.
“Mommm?” Maggie calls, the back door clapping shut as she enters the house.
We both go stock still.
I almost don’t hear the hissed “Shhhh!”
But I do hear it. It comes from Charlotte or Ginny. Not like a ‘lower your voice, we’re tired of telling you that you’re being too loud’ but a ‘QUIET, don’t interrupt them!’
I pull back from Lucan like the police have shined a spotlight on me. Although it must be too late. I’m not surprised at all that Lucan was so distracted that he missed noticing their arrival (that a werewolf could be so distracted with a simple kiss has me thinking we should feel a little proud of us, honestly), but Ginny or Charlotte must have seen us kissing.
Kissing! Me! Lucan!
Kissing.