Cassidy #2
“Idiot,” Isaac stage-whispers, wrapping his arm around the back of my chair as if he’s preparing to enjoy the show.
“We’ve already been informed that not only will we miss our appendages if we fuck up,” Evander says, his face paling, “But that a family whose entire life is built around protection clearly knows how to do it well.”
I grimace. “Oh, no. Who did it?”
As if there’s more than one option.
Silas and Harlan exchange a look, the latter grinning at me.
“Who do you think, luxury? Sterling’s the only one other than your mum that we’ve met,” he says with a laugh. “She didn’t threaten anyone, although she may have if she had realised.”
I grimace, my cheeks flushing. “I’m so sorry. I’ll talk to him and—”
“Don’t,” Evander says, shaking his head. “He’s having a great time getting his own back now after the shit I gave him about Emme.”
“I thought… something was weird between you,” I offer, still confused that Sterling cares enough to threaten my mates.
Harlan folds his arms, looking bored now that he’s done eating. “So, next weekend?”
“I can ask,” I say with a nod. Evander echoes it, and Isaac stays quiet.
I was nervous. I still am, at least a little bit. But I want my parents to meet my pack.
To meet the men who… are mine.
Harlan looks towards Silas, narrowing his eyes. “You’ve already invited our parents, haven’t you?”
Silas’s mouth curves into a smug little smile. He doesn’t answer.
He doesn’t need to.
“Oh, for fuck’s sake,” Harlan groans. “Why do you always need to be the better bloody son? Fuck me, you’re gunning for an award that doesn’t exist.”
“Unless it does, and he’s had it since you were kids,” Evander taunts, and Harlan huffs out a growl.
“They accepted immediately,” Silas adds, entirely unapologetic.
I laugh again, the sound escaping before I can stop it, and I cover my mouth to try and smother it.
“I want to call them now.”
The words leave my mouth before I can think too hard about them.
Everyone looks at me, and heat creeps into my cheeks as I duck my head. Isaac’s arm moves closer to me at the same time as Evander offers reassurance through the bond.
“I mean, if you want an answer,” I add quickly, glancing towards Silas. “They might be busy, obviously, and they’ve probably got a lot to organise before they come home tomorrow, but I… I’d like to ask.”
Silas’s expression softens as he gives me a pleased smile. “Only if you want to, little moon. There’s no rush for it.”
“I do.”
I think.
No, I know that I do.
If I wait until tomorrow, I’ll spend all night rehearsing the conversation. Then all morning. Then I’ll probably rewrite the message six times before deciding calling is more polite, and restart the panic.
I’m better off doing it now when I’m still relishing in the courage my mates have given me.
Before I can turn it into something terrifying, again.
I push my chair back, the legs scraping lightly against the floor.
Isaac’s hand catches mine before I can move away. His concern brushes softly against our bond.
“You’ll be okay,” he says quietly. “Worst case is they say—”
“Yes,” Harlan interjects, winking at me when I gape his way. He yelps, and I think someone has kicked him under the table. “Come on, I’m teasing.”
“Not the time,” Silas rebukes.
I squeeze Isaac’s fingers before letting go, weaving around the back of their chairs as I slip from the dining room.
I make my way towards the small greeting room off the hallway.
I close the door behind me, muffling the low rumble of conversation from the table, not because I’m ashamed of them, but because I’m nervous and don’t want them to hear me stutter and stumble.
Especially if things go badly.
The room is warm and dim, lit by a lamp in the corner, the curtains already drawn against the evening outside. I lower myself onto the edge of the sofa and stare at my Dad’s contact on the screen.
He’s always the one most likely to answer, as Papa and Mum take most of the calls.
This shouldn’t be difficult.
They love me. I know they do. Mum’s already met them and thought they were charming.
Sterling threatened them, which probably counts as an enthusiastic welcome in his head.
Come on, Cassie, do it.
I press call before I can lose my nerve.
Dad answers on the third ring. “Cassie? Is that you, duckling?”
Noise spills through the speaker behind him. Mum is giggling as Papa complains about someone overpacking.
Mum tells him through her laughter that Dad’s extra shoes are necessary.
A smile pulls at my lips, their familiar warmth drawing me in immediately. “Hi, Dad.”
“Is everything okay?” Dad’s voice softens immediately.
“Yes. Everything’s good.”
Too fast.
There’s a pause, and I’m relieved that Mum interjects.
“Is that Cassidy?” She calls in the background. “Put her on speaker, Dar. You can’t hog her to yourself.”
Papa laughs. “Trust me, I’d trade you two for her in a second. She’s got exceptional packing skills.”
My smile dims a little. A second later, all three of them are talking over one another, trying to share something.
I laugh despite myself. “Guys, I promise I’m not hurt. I’m not in danger. Nobody is dying. I’m okay and excited to see you tomorrow.”
“Are you sure, lovebug?” my mum asks as my dad and papa quieten themselves down. “You sound… nervous.”
“I, um, I wanted to ask you something,” I say, biting my lip.
“Do you need more money, princess? I can send some right now,” Papa says.
“Do you need us to call one of your cousins? Your uncles?” Dad asks.
I laugh, grateful Mum is there to calm them down.
“Both of you, calm it,” Mum says firmly. “She can’t tell us if you’re offering solutions to the problems you’re imagining.”
“We’re listening,” Papa says.
“Well, we are now,” Dad corrects. “Your papa was still fighting with the luggage.”
“It’s an unreasonable suitcase filled with an unreasonable amount of shoes.”
I tuck my feet beneath me, the knot in my stomach loosening as they bicker, before Dad once again promises that they’re listening.
“So, um, whilst you’ve been away, I’ve, um… I’ve…” I cringe and just blurt it out. Stuttering won’t help anything. “I’ve-met-my-mates-and-I-want-to-introduce-you.”
“What was that?” Papa demands, and I hear him inching closer to the phone. “Tell us again, Cassidy.”
“Something about introducing us to something,” Mum murmurs.
“Or someone,” Dad says, equally as unquiet as Mum.
“I’ve met my mates,” I say breathlessly. “And I want to introduce you to them. Silas—um, one of my mates—suggested we all have dinner together next weekend with their family, too.”
Silence meets me, and my heart stutters as I race to try and explain things better.
“Everyone’s, mostly,” I add. “Silas and Harlan’s parents will be there. You’ve met them, Mum. Evander’s sister and her pack will be there—Sterling’s part of her pack. You three. My pack.”
The final two words come out quieter as they still say nothing.
Dad makes a strange sound, and I nearly hang up in fear, my scent glands prickling beneath my jaw.
“Are you crying?” Mum asks, and I raise a brow.
“No,” he says thickly.
He is.
“He is,” Papa says cheerfully. “Oh, Dar, it’s okay. Our baby is growing up.”
“I am not crying because I’m sad,” my dad says. “I’m so happy for you, duckling.”
Warmth spreads through my chest, a little like hope. “So, you’ll come?”
“Obviously,” Mum says immediately. “What day? We’ll make sure to clear the calendar.”
Clear the calendar.
There’s no hesitation or awkwardness as they decide if they have time.
It’s just a given.
“Oh, I’ve been dreading this since you presented,” Dad says, sniffling. “But now that the moment is here, I’m just so proud of you.”
“You are?”
“Of course, we are, CeCe. You’re the light of our lives,” Papa says gently. “So, you mentioned mates, as in plural. What are we going to be walking into?”
“She literally shared their names, Elliot,” my mum says with a laugh.
“That’s barely anything,” Papa protests. “Silas who? Evander what?”
I grin. Something behind my ribs aches. I’d thought I might be asking too much. That they’d refuse.
“Silas Varrick. He’s the Director of Visual Campaigns. An alpha, like his adopted brother, Harlan,” I say shyly. “Another of my mates. He’s, um, my direct boss. The Creative Director.”
“Wow, okay, I’m sensing there’s a story involved,” Dad says, letting out a low whistle. “Do we have some threats to be making?”
I groan. “No, Dad. Sterling has apparently already done that behind my back.”
Mum laughs softly. “That sounds like him. What about the others? Isaac and Evander—I’ve met those boys, too, right?”
“I think they’re men,” I offer, causing my dad and Papa to groan as my mum laughs again. “Yes, they were at our table at the gala. Evander Whitmore—”
“Whitmore?” Papa cuts off. “I see.”
I don’t.
“Yes. He’s an alpha, and then Isaac Reid is a beta. He’s not got a great relationship with his parents, so they won’t be there,” I continue awkwardly. “It’s just the five of us.”
“For now,” Mum says teasingly. “Soon enough, tiny little babies—”
“She is still a baby!” Dad shouts, and I giggle at the immediate bickering on their side.
We settle the details as much as we can, although Dad immediately starts discussing wine, and Papa wants to know what he should cook despite my repeated explanation that Silas will be hosting.
By the time I end the call, my cheeks hurt from smiling. I lower my phone and breathe through the warmth filling my chest.
They want to come.
Really.
When I open the door, Silas is leaning against the opposite wall, one shoulder resting against the wallpaper, his hands tucked into his pockets.
His gaze moves over my face, and I can smell the relief in his scent when he realises it went well, black tea mellowing beneath the sweetness of fig.
“Done?”
I nod. “They said yes.”
“Good.” Then, he pushes away from the wall and holds out his hand. “I’ve got something to show you.”
I place my hand in his and let him lead me up the stairs, grateful it’s from whatever chaos is happening in the kitchen to cause a smashed plate.
These men.
These boys.