by Vella Day
“Mouth-watering.” When he was about eleven or twelve, he’d woken up early one morning to the stench of smoke and charred ashes.
“What are you grinning about?” Rye asked.
He waved a hand. “Just remembering when Blair was about six, she decided to make some cookies before our parents woke up.”
“I take it they weren’t edible.”
He shook his head. “Let’s say the smoke alarms went off, and the cookie sheets had to be thrown out. Blair must have cried for hours.”
Rye chuckled. “Remind me not to accept any dinner invitations from your sister.”
“Amen.”
Izzy came into the living room and placed a small plate of cookies in front of him and another in front of Rye. “Thought you could use some of these given all the hard work the two of you are doing.” She winked.
“We’re about to start,” Kalan said stuffing the wonderful smelling dessert in his mouth. “Oh, these are fucking good.”
“It’s a special recipe I learned when I was in France.”
He glanced over at Rye. “You lucky dog. She’s hot and she cooks?” he telepathed.
Rye just grinned. Kalan snatched another cookie. He didn’t remember anything tasting this amazing since before his granny died. “Did you put red wine in these?” He ran his tongue along the roof of his mouth, attempting to detect what was different about them.
“Why would I put wine in cookies?” Her scrunched up nose implied she found the idea rather unpleasant. Little did she know.
“My dad’s mom used to bake the best chocolate chip cookies. After she passed, we found her recipe box. Her secret?”
“Red wine?”
“You guessed it.”
“You’ll have to be satisfied with my unadorned ones.” Izzy smiled and headed back into the open kitchen.
With the recipe exchange finished, Rye cleared his throat. “Are you thinking a Changeling is responsible for the Donaldson fire?”
It was what he’d been working on all day yesterday and today. Kalan didn’t often discuss police business with Rye, except when it might involve other shifters—both good and bad. “We have no leads as of yet. I have it from three witnesses who say Jack Donaldson was at a church social during the time of the blaze, but a new witness said he was very sure he’d spotted him at the hardware store around the same time.”
“It was a red moon. Could it have been a Changeling clone to throw suspicion his way?”
“Possibly.”
“Even though a shifter might be involved, I’ll let your department worry about it,” Rye said. “If you learn anything concrete, I’ll help.”
“I’ll keep you in the loop.”
Izzy came out of the kitchen wiping her hands on a towel. “I saw you and Elana talking at my party. How did that go?”
His insides tightened. Clearly, she was on a fishing expedition since Elana was her best friend. He had no doubt they’d spoken about his less than friendly actions. If he could change things he would, but it was as if something had invaded his body and turned him into a bumbling bear. “Fine, I guess.”
“She’s been my friend since grade school, you know.”
His stomach flipped, awaiting the speech about him being a jerk to her. He didn’t need to be having this conversation. Thankfully, hearing Elana’s name wasn’t causing any internal changes. “That’s nice.”
Izzy dropped down next to Rye and picked up a cookie from her mate’s pile. “Just so you know, she had a rough childhood and spent a lot of time with my family.”
Kill me now. He didn’t need to learn this, and he definitely didn’t need to be engaging in this conversation. “That’s a shame.”
“Did you know her parents were out of the country for much of the time when she was growing up and left her alone with different housekeepers?”
Abandoning children really pissed him off. “Why have kids if you aren’t going to enjoy them and nurture them?”
“Exactly. Being of British descent, my family was admittedly rather prim and proper, but they loved Missy and me totally and completely. They were always there for us.”
He couldn’t begin to imagine what it would be like not to have his parents and siblings around. “Me too. Does she have any brothers or sisters?”
“No, which was why she practically lived with us. Elana and I were in the same class together.”
That put the scrumptious woman even further off limits, which might be a good thing. Kalan wasn’t good with long term anything—except being Beta to his Silver Lake Were Clan. “I hope she’s been able to work things out with her parents now that she’s grown.”
“Not really, which is why she stays away from them as much as possible. When they are back in town, they might do birthdays and holidays, but that’s it.”
Kalan tried to dismiss the ideas of being alone, abandoned, and unloved, but the pain from her upbringing altered something inside him. He swung his legs off the lounge. “I need to be going.”
“Already? You two haven’t done much work.”
“Izzy,” Rye said. “Let the poor man be.”
Rye couldn’t know how he felt about Elana, and he didn’t intend to tell him.
“Before you leave,” Izzy said, “I’ll make a care package of cookies for you.”
“You don’t have to do that.” He was surprised she wanted to, given she seemed to believe he’d mistreated her best friend.
“I know, but I want to. Give me a sec.”
She stepped behind the kitchen island and returned with a large tin. She slid the cookies he hadn’t eaten in there too. “Don’t eat all of them at once. Spread them out over a few days.”
He chuckled, never having witnessed this whimsical side of Izzy before. “You sound like my mom.”
“I hope that’s a good thing.”
“It is.” With tin in hand, he left. Tonight might be a good time for a run. Lumbering around in his bear form would help clear his head and help wear off the calories from those delicious cookies.
*
Brian had waited two long days before confronting his parents. What he expected them to say he didn’t know, but he steeled himself for their continued rejection. An apology would be too good to be true, but even if he received one, it couldn’t make up for the twenty-seven years of being in and out of mental institutions. His suffering over how they’d treated him had fucked with his head really bad.
The cab dropped him off at the house. This time he didn’t care if there was a log of his arrival. Because it was still light, he studied the home and the long driveway, which was bordered by maples and oaks that led to the huge white mansion with green shutters. He couldn’t help but look at the window where his room had been and to the roof access where he would often climb out at night. Seeing the old homestead was like a hundred knives stabbing his gut, but he refused to turn back now.
I can do this. I just need to put one foot in front of the other. His therapist thought this would be a good idea, saying Brian would never have closure unless he spoke with them. Now that the time was here, he doubted the wisdom of that decision.
At the front door, his hand shook as he raised it and knocked. They hadn’t even changed the lion’s head brass knocker or the color of the red door from when he lived there. Heart clamoring to escape, he lifted his elbows to keep his underarms from sweating.
The front door opened.
It was his mom, and a band around his chest threatened to cut off his air. She looked old. She might have dyed her hair blonde to halt the aging process, but he’d know her anywhere. She had the same beady eyes, long nose, and stern mouth.
“Yes?” she said in that haughty voice he detested.
“Hello, Mother.” At least that came out sounding almost normal.
She stilled, but the pulse in her neck did a rapid tattoo. Taking a few steps back, she placed her hand on the banister and called to someone upstairs. “Can you come down here, please?”
Holy s
hit. His fucking mother was actually scared of him. That put things in a different light. “May I come in?”
“Just one moment.”
Footsteps sounded on the stairs, or rather footsteps along with a thump of a cane. When a gray-headed man appeared, Brian didn’t recognize his father at first, but then the eyes gave him away. He’d always stood so ramrod straight, and now he was a gimp with slumped shoulders.
Dad moved next to Mom, presenting a united front. “May we help you?” his father asked.
“Richard, this is Brian, our son, or so he claims.”
Did she call him by name because his father didn’t remember? Unless he had a form of dementia, it reinforced just what kind of lame people they were.
“Do you have proof you’re our Brian?” his father asked.
The word our softened him. Maybe his dad had changed. “Look at me. I have your blue eyes and mom’s long nose.” He would have rolled up his sleeves to show the massive scarring from all the intravenous drugs they’d administered over the years, but they’d say he was some kind of drug addict. “Surely, you remember that you sent away your eight-year old son to the loony bin, because you were afraid I’d burn down the house or kill you.”
“Nonsense,” his mother said, her gaze looking everywhere but at him. “We were afraid you’d hurt yourself.”
That was a lie. “After years of therapy, I’ve been declared sane. I don’t set things on fire or harm animals either.”
“That’s good to hear. Do you want to come in?” The strain in her voice sounded like fingernails on a chalkboard.
Her invitation took long enough, though now he wasn’t sure he wanted to spend any time with these monsters. After wiping his feet just as he’d been taught to do as a young boy, he entered, interested to learn what things they’d kept and what they’d changed. “I see the picture of Blue Boy over the fireplace is the same, but thankfully you got rid of those godawful flowered sofas.”
His mother sucked in a breath, but he didn’t miss the evil shooting from her eyes. “Brian, we’re sorry that we sent you away, but once the baby arrived, we thought you’d harm her.”
Sorry, my ass. That excuse was even lamer. “She didn’t interest me.”
His father moved back. “Let’s sit in the living room and you can catch us up.”
Now his father was interested in what he had to say? By asking him to sit, Dad must believe he needed Brian to calm down, that he’d come to harm them, or perhaps blackmail them for money. While the idea of asking for money had merit, Brian just wanted an apology, but he suspected he’d have to wait a very long time for one. Too bad, he had no intention of being in Silver Lake longer than necessary.
“Can I bring you some tea?” his mom asked, acting as if this visit was an everyday occurrence.
“How about a beer?” He wasn’t eight any more.
She glanced at his father who imperceptibly nodded. “I’ll get one for you.”
His father limped over to a striped high-back chair and dropped down. “Tell us why you’ve come.”
Now the cold, unfeeling son of a bitch father he remembered surfaced. “I guess I needed to hear from your own lips why you sent me away and why you never visited me.”
His mom returned through a door carrying a beer and handed it to him. “I’ll answer that. Your therapist forbade us to. We tried to see you, but he thought it would slow your healing if we spoke.”
Brian chugged back the brew, helping to quench his thirst. He didn’t believe a word of it. In retrospect, it was probably for the best. They weren’t sorry that they’d ditched their kid. “Well, thank you for that.” Surely, they’d hear the sarcasm in his voice.
“Brian, you need to understand. We didn’t want to do it,” his father said, sounding pathetic.
“Too late now.” African masks hung on the far wall, and a statue of the Eiffel Tower along with what looked like a green onyx pyramid sat on the coffee table. “I see you’ve traveled a lot.”
Once more, their wide eyes gave away their fear. “You know what we do for a living. Travel is necessary.”
Given the size of the house, the expensive rugs on the floor, and the paintings that he bet were originals, they could have hired someone to shop for them. “Eight months out of the year?”
“Yes,” his mother said, lifting her chin in defiance.
Brian wanted to hurt them like they’d hurt him. He stood. “I gotta take a leak.”
“It’s down the—”
“I remember where it is.”
Brian set his bottle on an expensive looking mahogany table not caring if he left a ring, and headed down the hallway past the kitchen to the small half bath. He didn’t have to go. He just needed to get away from them for a while, to have a chance to think.
Once he was out of their sight, he paced. Before he was able to come up with a plan, the front doorbell rang. Company. Good. That gave him a good excuse to leave and regroup. To his surprise, loud shouts came from the living room. Maybe the Feds were there to arrest them for doing something illegal—like not paying taxes. Wouldn’t that be sweet?
Brian stepped back into the living room and stopped in his tracks. Three sets of eyes shot to him and he swore they could see right through him. These were no Feds. All three were dressed in slogan T-shirts and ripped jeans, and the men varied in height and age.
His mother piped up. “This is my son, Brian. He’s just passing through town.”
Brian took a few steps, not because he wanted to be nearer to these fellows, but because he’d be closer to the front door in case something bad went down.
The big, tall fellow stepped forward and shook his hand. “Nice to meet you.” He then turned to his dad. “Forty-eight hours.”
His father smiled. “No problem. It’ll be here.”
It? Before Brian could say he wanted to leave, the three amigos left. He turned to his parents, a bit confused about what he’d witnessed. “What was that about?”
The father waved a hand. “We’ve been having trouble getting something they’d ordered from India, but it’ll be here in two days. Nothing to worry about.”
Brian nodded. “I need to head back to town.”
“Do you want to stay here?” his mother said. From the bitter tone, she wanted him to say no.
“I’ve already paid for a place in town. I don’t plan to be here long.”
Her lips pinched. “Elana is coming over this weekend. Maybe you’d like to see your little sister. She’s all grown up.”
“Sure.” Or not. His head was spinning with too much emotion and he was losing control. “Talk to you later.”
He rushed out, relishing the long walk back to town.
Chapter Five
‡
After working late at the station, Kalan had dropped into bed, and seven hours later he’d woken up refreshed. For the first time since he’d seen Elana at the hospital, he’d actually had a full night sleep—no raging hard-on or erotic dreams starring the pretty lady.
Stretching, he patted his gut to make sure he hadn’t grown a second stomach overnight. He hadn’t eaten that many cookies in a long time. It was all Izzy’s fault for making them so damned good. She deserved some kind of medal for that recipe. It was almost as if the added sugar had set him back on track.
Kalan slid out of bed, cleaned up, and dressed in a ratty T-shirt and shorts. It was his day off, and he was determined to enjoy it. The run last night had done wonders for his attitude—or else it had been the cookies.
After hours of thinking, he’d finally figured out that the stress of taking over for his father must have affected him more than he’d realized. A kind of calmness had enveloped him, so much that he believed he would be capable of acting his usual self around Elana—self-confident, charming, and dare he say macho.
He whipped up some breakfast then stacked the dirty dishes in the dishwasher. Kalan liked order, but was willing to wing it when it came to women, loving nothing more than to make them happy.<
br />
Thinking of women, his thoughts returned to Elana yet again. Sympathy swamped him at what she’d had to endure growing up, and then pride swelled at how she’d overcome adversity to create something as wonderful as her flower shop. A young woman opening a business in today’s economy would have run against some pretty hefty odds, yet Elana had flourished. Or should he say, blossomed?
He shook his head at the way he’d acted around her all three times. Now he knew it had all been due to stress. Seeing things clearly for the first time in days, he realized a woman like Elana deserved happiness. While he had no intention of being with her on a steady basis, he bet she’d appreciate it if he took her to lunch. They’d chat about Izzy and how happy she was, and then he’d steer the conversation to her shop. He bet she could talk for days about what it entailed to be a successful entrepreneur.
At his excellent idea, a sense of generosity rose inside him. Taking her to the Silver Lake café or to Nate’s Pizzeria would be too ordinary. He wanted something special—something she’d remember. He snapped his fingers. He bet she’d like a picnic. The weather would be turning cooler soon and he bet she’d appreciate taking advantage of the balmy conditions while they lasted.
The question was where to go for this outdoor adventure? She didn’t know he was a shifter, so that nixed the area around Silver Lake. A nice mountain view would be spectacular, but most of the areas overlooking the Smoky Mountains required a hike, and she probably didn’t have a lot of time during her lunch break. From what Izzy had told him, she was devoted to her job.
Mentally scanning what the town had to offer, he landed on the region across from the church. The town had put in a real nice park that included picnic shelters. Families with small children would be there, making the experience upbeat and pleasant. Perfect. That solved one dilemma.
Since he’d be bringing the food, all he needed was to find out what Elana liked to eat. Once, many moons ago, he and a date had gone on a hike. Needing something for lunch, he’d packed peanut butter and jelly sandwiches only to find out she was allergic to peanuts. He wouldn’t make that mistake again. If Izzy wasn’t home, he’d stop at the Crystal Winds Spa and ask her what Elana enjoyed.