“That’s not necessary,” she said with a dismissive wave of her hand. “I wouldn’t dream of it. You should do what you usually do during pack runs.”
She stood, shook out the garment, and stray threads floated to the floor. She turned the garment right side out, and Phelan saw that the sides of the part that went around her torso were completely undone.
“What time do we leave?” she asked, pinning him with her gaze and cocking an eyebrow at him.
He tried to read her expression, but her face was neutral. Suddenly, it occurred to him that she was going to pretend there was no disagreement between them, which seemed worse than if she were yelling at him. He wiped a hand down one side of his face in frustration.
“We can leave whenever you want,” he said as his feet started moving closer to her. He found himself pulling her into his arms, the dress between them. At first, she resisted. Then she let out a shuddering sigh and her body relaxed.
“I really should work on this dress,” she mumbled into his chest.
Her body seemed small and fragile as he held her to him. He stroked her back in a soothing motion.
“I’m sorry,” he found himself saying. Relief flooded him, and he was surprised at how good it felt to admit he was wrong. “I made assumptions about you and didn’t stop to think of what you wanted. It’s okay if you don’t want children.”
He was surprised to find it really was okay. He just wanted her.
“It’s not that,” she told him, emotion clogging the words in her throat so that they came out in a hesitant, jerking fashion. “I don’t know if I want children or not, I just don’t know if I can live up to your family’s expectations.”
He kissed the top of her head, and her hair tickled his nose like a feather duster. He squelched the impulse to speak, sensing, somehow, she only needed to be heard.
“I have always taken care of myself,” she said. “I have never wanted anyone to take care of me. I really don’t think this is the life for me.”
The last part cut him deep. What would it be like to not live in Perdition? He had never once considered he might have a mate who didn’t think she was suited to a life in the close-knit community he’d grown up in. He swallowed his disappointment before he spoke again.
“What kind of life did you imagine?” He continued to stroke her back. Maybe if he kept touching her this way, she would let down her guard and he could enter her heart. She would see that fate had brought them together, that they could work anything out...if they decided to.
He felt her shoulders shrug against him.
“I never thought about it. I never thought I would marry. I never saw myself having a family.” Her body trembled with unshed tears and he wished she felt safe enough with him to let her emotions go.
“Now that you think about it, do you think it’s something you might want to do?”
“I’m sorry…”
“Baby, it’s okay. You can tell me anything. I love you.”
He hadn’t meant to say that. If he thought she felt pressured by the idea of children, how was she going to react to his foolish declaration? He could feel her body shake with the effort to hold her sobs in. Holding them in until it must be causing her physical pain to do so.
“Let it out, Lola,” he said, holding her, touching her, letting her feel his emotions.
Something about what he said must have triggered her. The dam of her emotions broke, and she burst into tears, big sobs that wracked her entire body, He wondered when she had last allowed herself to cry.
He didn’t know much about the foster care system firsthand, but he knew from Bubba, who had bounced around various shifter foster homes after being banished, that showing weakness was an invitation to be preyed on. This was doable for a natural alpha wolf. But for a vulnerable human?
She kept on crying, even when he picked her up and found a soft place to land on the sectional, cradling her in his arms. He thought she must be crying a lifetime of tears, a lifetime of disappointments.
Chapter 36
The mood was quiet, even somber, when Lola and Phelan arrived at AJ and Jasmine’s house after dusk. They sat in silence in the cab of the truck, neither of them seeming to know what to say to the other. Lola wasn’t ready to give him what he wanted and wasn’t sure she would ever be ready.
After her epic crying jag, Lola was in the mood for a diversion, some time away from Phelan, his parents, and all the talk of mating, children, and building a life with him. In the back of her mind, it occurred to her that she needed to figure out how she was going to leave Perdition. Since there still might be the threat of the changeling looming over her, she didn’t necessarily have to go back to Dallas. She could move to Houston, or New Orleans, or any number of cities with a thriving sex trade. She didn’t even have to work at a brothel, she could work at a regular bar or restaurant, or—
“It’s going to all work out,” said Phelan, interrupting her thoughts. He gave her a small smile and caressed her cheek with his knuckles. “I can see the wheels turning in your head.”
“What do you mean?” She blurted out the question without calculating how it might be taken, what he would make of it.
“I mean, how do you think it would work out?” she asked, trying to gauge his emotional state. Oddly enough, she wasn’t getting much through their empathic link. For a moment, she wished she could be the kind of woman he wanted. One ready to settle down, live in the country, and have a bunch of babies.
“We don’t have to live in Perdition,” he said, leaning in to give her a light, coaxing kiss on the lips. The kiss wasn’t carnal at all. Just a light brushing of lips that nonetheless had her closing her eyes to savor the sensation.
When she leaned back again to look into his eyes, she saw nothing but tenderness there.
Was he seriously considering leaving Perdition? For her?
The moment the idea manifested in her head, she knew it would never work. He’d resent her for taking him away from his dream of settling down in Perdition, surrounded by the people he’d known all his life, in a place where he could let his wolf off his leash and go running with his pack mates without fear of upsetting his human neighbors or being hit by a car. She wished she could simply accept what he was offering her. But she knew from experience that she could really only rely on herself.
She caressed the side of his face with her palm.
“Have a good run,” she said, clutching her hobo bag and reaching for the door handle.
He rolled his eyes at her. “Can you please let me see you to the front door?” he asked, giving her a cranky look. “What kind of man would I be if I didn’t see my mate to the front door?”
She gave him a tremulous smile and lowered her eyes.
“I guess there is such a thing as being too independent?” she said shrugging her shoulders.
They were greeted at the front door by Jasmine who looked adorable in an oversized plaid shirt and black leggings. Lola gave Phelan a soft kiss on the lips, then he was gone. Jasmine hooked her arm into Lola’s elbow and led her into the house. Lola inhaled the smell of something baking.
“You have a beautiful home,” said Lola taking in the soothing, comfortable decor. “Did you do all of this?”
Jasmine smiled, bringing out deep dimples in each cheek.
“Thanks, but this isn’t my house, although I did help AJ with some of the decor,” said Jasmine, leading Lola past the dining room table heavily laden with craft supplies to the open-plan kitchen at the back of the house.
Twyla leaned against the kitchen counter, taking nibbles from a plate of finger foods, and holding a margarita glass whose circumference was roughly the size of a gallon milk jug. Twyla waved the drink at Lola, her blue eyes glassy and bright. The margarita glass had been depleted, the liquid a good two inches below the rim of the glass. The woman was feeling no pain.
In front of the oven stood a woman wearing a T-shirt and a pair of ripped jeans which had been heavily embroidered with ran
dom paisley patterns. She wore her hair in braids of many pastel colors, and also wore a nose ring Lola hadn’t noticed the first time in the apothecary. She was wearing a pair of oven mitts as if about to remove something from the oven.
Auntie.
Lola’s nose flared in irritation and her mouth twisted in a tight side pout, as she remembered how Auntie had been pawing Phelan, a man who was there with his fiancée at the apothecary, while said fiancée was standing right there. The fact that Phelan was her fake fiancé was beside the point. What woman was so brazen as to grope another woman’s like that? Lola didn’t trust Auntie.
Yet, she was trapped at Jasmine’s house for at least a few hours. She’d have to make the best of it.
“Oh great! You’re here!” Auntie exclaimed. Lola willed herself to stay in place as the eccentric woman advanced on her, still wearing the oven mitts, a cloud redolent with patchouli in her wake, and gave her a fierce hug.
“Uh…nice to see you,” Lola said uncertainly. “I didn’t know you would be here.”
“I have so much to tell you!” Auntie exclaimed, evidently not deterred by Lola’s lack of enthusiasm. She continued to hug Lola and threw in a little rocking motion as well, as if they were long-lost sorority sisters.
Jasmine stepped in, wedging an arm between the two women and prying them apart.
“Auntie, weren’t you going to take out the cookies?” Jasmine gave her aunt an ingratiating smile. The other woman turned to open the oven and extracted two sheets of chocolate-chip cookies.
“So… I guess that’s what smells so good,” Lola said, nodding at the sheets of cookies.
“It’s my secret recipe,” said Jasmine. “Actually, my grandmother’s recipe.”
Auntie set the cookie sheets down, took off the oven mitts, and inserted herself into the conversation.
“She’s so modest,” said Auntie. “These are man catching cookies. These are the cookies that got her that hunky boyfriend of hers.” She rolled her eyes suggestively and waggled her eyebrows at Jasmine.
“Don’t even go there,” said Jasmine. She gave her aunt a hard stare that said, shut up already.
Perhaps sensing the strain of the conversation, Twyla sashayed to the three women, brandishing a fresh margarita.
“Girl, you look like you need a drink,” Twyla said, handing the glass to Lola. Twyla’s tone and mannerisms were on the right side of sloshed.
Lola took the drink, sipped, then winced. The drink was potent to an eye watering degree, and she resolved to nurse it all evening.
Three pairs of expectant eyes zeroed in on Lola who was struggling not to cough.
“Too much tequila?” Twyla asked, looking a little worried, in a wobbly, slightly shit-faced way.
“It’s a little stronger than I’m used to,” Lola admitted. Twyla frowned, and Lola hastily added, “It’s good though!”
The four of them stood awkwardly, staring at each other, searching for something to say. “So... something smells good! Other than the cookies, of course,” Lola said, looking around the kitchen the source of the lovely food smells.
Twyla produced a tray of what appeared to be pigs in blankets. For some reason, Texans called them “kolaches.” She took one, dunked it in the small dish of mustard sauce and bit into it. It wasn’t bad.
“Yum!” she said, smiling enthusiastically as the three other women stood eyeing her expectantly. “So... what can I do to help?”
“Not a thing,” said Twyla. “We're all ready to go in the dining room.”
The ladies followed Twyla to the dining table which was laden with craft supplies. The Perdition High School mascot was a gray wolf. The school colors were Kelly green and white. As a result, the dining room table was littered with white and green ribbons, bows, fake flowers, and assorted tchotchkes—stuffed toy wolf heads, miniature cheerleading pom poms, tiny baseballs, footballs, megaphones, musical notes and so on—meant to symbolize the homecoming date’s interests.
To Lola’s uninformed eyes, there seemed to be enough supplies to make mums for every teen attending the homecoming dance.
“How many do we have to make?” asked Lola, eyes wide as she took in the piles of supplies.
“Oh, just five or six,” Twyla shrugged. “I filled most of my orders already. These are for the stragglers who ran out of time to make their own and finally paid me the big bucks to make them at the last minute.”
“And we're going to use all of these supplies?” Lola asked, incredulous.
“Girl, I do not understand this at all,” said Jasmine, breaking into the conversation. She had a margarita in one hand, a cookie in the other, which she bit into before speaking. “I'm from Ohio. We just got little wrist corsages for our homecoming. But you know what they say?”
Lola looked at her blankly.
“Everything’s bigger in Texas!” Jasmine cackled, nudging Lola with her elbow.
“Anything that’s big in Texas, is even bigger in Perdition,” Twyla chimed in, rolling her eyes suggestively. The other two women burst out in the raucous sort of laughter common to drunken women talking about sex.
Oh, so it’s one of those kinds of hen parties.
Lola reminded herself that she was a short-timer in Perdition. She could let herself get a little loose tonight without any real consequences since she would soon be leaving behind the town, these women, and most of all, Phelan.
She felt a twinge of regret at the thought, but pushed it aside. It was the best thing for Phelan. It was the best thing for her. With this in mind, Lola took a long gulp of her margarita. She licked the salt off her lips, pulled out a chair, and sat down.
Chapter 37
“So. What do you need me to do?” Lola asked, setting down her margarita and running her fingers over the piles of craft supplies as if taking some kind of inventory.
Twyla paired up with Jasmine. Much to her consternation, Lola was paired with Auntie. The other woman grinned broadly and plopped down on the seat next to Lola.
“This is great!” Auntie exclaimed. “I’m looking forward to getting to know the newest resident of Perdition!”
Jasmine gave her aunt a pointed look from across the table where she and Twyla were sorting through the pile of supplies in front of them.
“Auntie, I told you to behave,” Jasmine said in a low, warning tone.
“I really don’t know what you mean,” said Auntie, truly looking clueless. “I’m always interested in newcomers. I remember when I first came to Perdition. It wasn’t easy to get settled here, coming from Ohio. Even though it’s a very friendly town, we should all do what we can to make new people feel welcome.”
The margarita must’ve gotten to her faster than she expected because Lola couldn’t resist kissing her teeth at the statement. Lola rolled her eyes at Auntie.
Right, make me feel real welcome. That must include hitting on a woman’s fiancé, Lola thought to herself bitterly.
“I beg your pardon?” Auntie gave Lola a wide-eyed innocent expression.
Shit! Did I say that out loud?
A quick glance around the table confirmed that yes, she had said that out loud. What was in those margaritas, anyway? Since Lola had already made her true feelings known, she saw no reason to hold back.
“You had your hands all over my fiancé the first time I met you.” Lola tried to tell herself that it didn’t really matter, that she wasn’t really engaged to Phelan. But she was still galled that this woman had the nerve to throw herself at Phelan as if they’d met in a singles bar.
Auntie waved her hand dismissively at Lola’s statement. “You’re mad about that?”
Lola didn’t much appreciate this woman’s waving off her flirtation with the man who, for all she knew, was Lola’s fated mate. “I thought I said that I was expecting you. Or rather, I was expecting Phelan would bring someone with him.”
Lola felt her anger simmer. The two other women kept their eyes down as this exchange unfolded, busily sorting the supplies in front of th
em.
“Is that right?” asked Lola. Auntie must think she was an idiot.
“My aunt means well,” Jasmine spoke up, holding her hands out in a conciliatory gesture. “You probably don’t know that Auntie has the second sight. If she says she was expecting you, then she probably was.”
Lola gave Auntie and Jasmine hard stares, her eyes bouncing back and forth between the them, trying to assess whether Jasmine was telling the truth.
It was on the tip of her tongue to tell Auntie to prove it when the eccentric woman spoke up again.
“Why do you think Phelan bought you a rare, difficult to find sewing machine, as well as a box of fabric? How do you think they happened to be in the window of the Foundlings thrift store as you arrived?” Auntie dropped that conversational bomb and let it sit there like an unexploded hand grenade as the other three women stared at her, eyes bugging with surprise.
“I picked up the sewing machine during one of my trips to New Orleans to stock up on supplies for the apothecary. It was just an instinct I had, and see? It totally paid off!” Auntie stood, gathered a few of the craft supplies, and moved them to a coffee table in the adjoining living room before sitting on the floor cross-legged, her knees under the table. She beckoned to Lola to join her.
“Let’s get these mums knocked out, and I’ll tell you all about what the spirits told me was in store for you and Phelan.”
Lola looked at Jasmine and Twyla. Both women had identical expressions of astonishment, eyes bugging and jaws slack.
Do I want to know what Auntie thinks the future is for me and Phelan?
A more appropriate reaction to Auntie’s pronouncement would be to wonder why the woman was running a small-town apothecary, instead of sitting in a padded cell, her arms tied around herself in a straitjacket. Nevertheless, Lola found herself sitting on the floor with her legs crossed across from Auntie. She told herself she was just playing along with the game. After all, she’d be leaving soon.
Instead of spilling the beans the moment Lola sat down, Auntie launched into a short tutorial on how to assemble a homecoming mum. Lola followed the other woman’s direction, folding ribbons into origami–like lengths called “braids.” These would be attached to something called a “backer,” roughly the size of a dessert plate.
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