Chapter 4
Daniel
“We should get going,” Dalton announced, interrupting the conversation I’d been having with my mate. I let my hand fall.
The moment I’d put my hand on her neck, she’d gone practically liquid.
Her eyes had softened, her shoulders dropped.
It was ironic, considering that the reason I’d done it was because I was trying to keep my hands off the rest of her body.
Her father seemed unbothered by the fact that she’d found her mate, but I was sure he didn’t want to witness me groping her.
“Give my love to Halle,” Gary said as Dalton and his son rose from their places. “You’ll keep me apprised?”
“Always,” Dalton agreed, slapping Gary on the shoulder.
Rosemary turned from me reluctantly to say her goodbyes.
“You’ll let us know if you need anything,” Dalton ordered, leaning in to kiss her forehead. He pulled back before he made contact and gave her a nod instead. My mate let out a breath of annoyance. “Call your aunt. She’s dying to hear from you.”
“I bet she is,” Rosemary joked. She reached her hand toward Ian and did a weird shake where they tapped the backs, then the palms of their hands together, and then wiggled their fingers at each other. “I’ll call you.”
“I’ll be there,” Ian agreed. He held out his hand to me. “It was nice to meet you.”
“You too,” I replied. The more I thought about it, the surer I was that Dalton’s other sons were too young to have found mates.
Ian must’ve been the one they’d reported.
The only reason why I didn’t feel more strongly about the little fucker was that he and Rosemary were clearly not romantic.
If I’d been confused about that fact, his facial expressions when he hadn’t thought I was looking would’ve assured me.
They were cousins, even if there was no blood relation.
Gary followed Dalton and Ian to the door, locking us in after they’d gone. Beside me, Rosemary yawned so widely that her jaw audibly popped.
“Tired?”
“I’ve been awake for most of the last week,” she replied, stretching her arms above her head. I tried not to stare as her nipples pressed against the thin fabric of her T-shirt. “Not the best idea to pass out when you’re surrounded by creeps. I’m exhausted.”
“You two should head to bed,” Gary said, rising from his wheelchair with a grimace. “I’m going to let Thunder out, and then we’ll be headed that way too.” He frowned at Rosemary. “I haven’t slept all week, either.”
“Sorry, Pops,” Rosemary replied with a small smile.
He waved her off and slowly made his way toward the kitchen. “Make yourself comfortable, Daniel. I’ll see you both in the morning.”
I waited patiently as expressions crossed Rosemary’s face. I was sure that she could put on a mask if she tried—she’d been wearing one when we met—but she wasn’t hiding anything anymore. She cycled through anxiety, indecision, a flash of anticipation, fear, and finally landed on determination.
“Come on. I’ll give you the tour,” she announced, lacing her fingers through mine.
“You’ve seen the living room and the kitchen.
” She tugged me down a long hallway. “The house is basically a large square. First door is the bathroom.” She pushed open the door, and a tiny room lit by a small nightlight was illuminated.
The tub, toilet, and sink were avocado green.
“Nothing fancy. My mom liked the green shit, but I’ve been all over the world, and I’ll tell you right now, the water pressure in that shower is the best you’ll ever get. ”
“Good to know.”
“I’m not kidding,” she said, looking at me over her shoulder as she pulled me further down the hall.
“It’s perfect.” She pointed to a door on the opposite side of the hall.
“That’s my pop’s room.” We finally stopped at a mostly closed door near the end of the hall.
She pushed it open and led me inside. “And this is my room. Ignore the mess.” She paused.
“Actually, don’t ignore it. I’m not super tidy. You should probably know that upfront.”
Letting go of my hand, she walked across the room and lit a lamp on the bedside table.
She was right. It was messy. It was also really warm and inviting.
A heavy dresser took up most of one wall.
On top of it was a stack of books, a jewelry box that looked like it had been painted by a toddler, a photo of a woman who looked a lot like Rosemary—probably her mother—a glass canning jar full of coins, and a few random socks.
There was an old floral armchair in the corner that was covered with discarded clothes.
Her nightstand was completely clear of anything except the lamp.
Her bed was made of heavy wood, dark from age, and definitely an antique.
“I was born in it,” she said, dropping onto the bed with one leg dangling off the side. “This used to be in my parents’ room. Dad said he couldn’t bear to sleep in it after my mom died. When he eventually decided that he should stop sleeping on the couch, I commandeered it before he could sell it.”
“It’s a nice bed.”
Rosemary laughed. “Swing the door shut, would you?”
I closed us in just as the sound of her dog’s nails on the hardwood reached the hallway.
“It’s not very big,” she said, leaning against the headboard. “But I never imagined I’d be sharing it.”
“Why not?” I asked, moving around the foot of the bed so I could sit with her.
“Well, for one, because it’s in my pop’s house.” She wrinkled her nose in distaste. “I have a bigger bed at the townhouse.”
“I’ve got a king at my parents’ place.”
“Ah, so you were planning on having overnight guests under your parents’ roof,” she said jokingly, shaking her head in mock disappointment.
“My parents built so that all of our families could live together,” I explained. “Once we’d found mates. Each of our rooms is more like a one-bedroom apartment.”
She smiled. “That makes sense. The Cavendish house is like that too. Well, it will be like that. Ian is the only one who gets to have his own little apartment right now. The other two have to share a room because they aren’t adults yet, and Aunt Halle says it forms bonds or something.”
So I’d been right about only Ian being old enough to report a mate.
“I’d like to live there for a while, if that’s okay with you.”
“What? The Cavendish house?” she asked innocently, raising her eyebrows.
“With my parents.” I watched her expression for a sign of protest that didn’t come. “We wouldn’t have to stay there forever, but after Zeke—”
“I don’t mind living with your family for a while, as long as they aren’t assholes.”
“Chance is the worst, and you’ve already met him,” I joked.
“Which one is Chance?”
“The one with the long hair.”
“Oh, right,” she said, nodding. She waved her hand dismissively. “I can handle that one.”
“Three of my brothers have found their mates recently—”
“Really?” she asked in fascination, her eyes widening. “That’s unusual.”
“It is.”
“So now four of you have found mates. There are five of you, right? So only one of you is left? Which one? It’s the asshole, right? I bet it’s the asshole. He’d mellow if he’d already found his mate.”
I laughed at the accuracy of her statement as I let the words wash over me.
It wasn’t deliberate, how she’d said it.
She obviously knew about my brothers and me—which was a bit of a mindfuck if I was being honest—but she hadn’t immediately counted Zeke out when she’d mentioned them.
There were five of us, even though one of us was gone.
I would always have four brothers.
“You’re right about the asshole. Chance hasn’t found his mate yet. With the way things are going, I wouldn’t be surprised if she showed up at some point soon. For whatever reason, we’re falling like dominoes.”
“That’s wild,” she said, pulling her legs up so she could cross them. “I bet your parents are thrilled.”
“Not sure if it’s sunk in yet, to be honest.”
Her expression dropped. “Yeah, I can understand that. I’m really sorry about your brother. He was younger, right?”
“Thanks. How the hell did you know that?”
Rosemary laughed a little in embarrassment. “Well, you’re all named in order, right? So, if you’re Daniel, then Zeke would’ve come after you.”
I grinned. “Ambrose, Beaumont, Chauncey, Daniel, and Ezekiel.”
“So I was right!”
“Yeah, you were.”
“I can’t imagine losing a sibling,” she said with a sympathetic frown. “I mean, I literally can’t because I’m an only child, but I don’t know what I’d do if we lost one of my cousins.”
“You lost your mother,” I replied softly.
She smiled halfheartedly. “Yeah, that was bad.”
“I bet.”
“She was sick for a lot of my childhood, but it was still a shock once she was gone. Like, what do you mean I can’t go tell her about my day?
What do you mean I broke my arm, and she’s not there to cuddle with?
Who the hell am I going to talk to when I’m happy or sad or mad or overwhelmed?
My dad did his best, but it obviously wasn’t the same. She was the frigging sun, you know?”
“Yeah, I know.”
“She’s been gone for almost half my life now. It’s weird.”
“How old were you when you lost her?”
“Twelve.” She grimaced. “That was a hard year for me. I was taller and bigger than all the boys in my class. Chubby. I hadn’t figured out how to wear my hair yet, everyone was experimenting with makeup, and I wasn’t really interested, hadn’t started my period, the whole shebang.
Then on top of that, my mom died, which just made me even more of an outsider and someone to talk about. ”
“That sounds miserable.”
“I was miserable. It’s pretty hard to articulate all the things that are wrong at that age. I was sad and angry and frustrated with the world. It got better, though. Easier to manage. Aunt Halle helped.”
“I’m sorry you went through that.”