Annabella
Chapter thirty-four
I’d had twenty minutes to decide whether to kill Sam Shaw or forgive him.
Twenty minutes of sitting in the passenger seat of his SUV while fury and something dangerously close to relief tore at each other inside my chest. He’d made a deal. To turn himself in. To rot in Adarcan—the same silver-soaked hellhole I’d just escaped from—and he hadn’t told me.
My wolf tracked Sam’s every movement like prey she had no intention of releasing.
I told her to knock it off. She ignored me.
The mate bond thrummed between us, new and raw and impossible to shut out.
I could feel his guilt bleeding through it, his remorse, his desperate need to fix this.
Part of me wanted to reach for that connection, let it soothe us both.
The rest of me wanted to set him on fire and toast marshmallows over the wreckage.
In the backseat, Mom dozed against Aunt Jo’s shoulder, her breathing shallow and uneven. Ellie had fallen asleep again, curled in Fred’s lap, thumb in her mouth, making small, contented sounds. Every few breaths, Ellie’s fingers twitched, reaching for something in a dream.
“We drop your family at Thomas and Wally’s, then head straight to Shaw Investigations. Sound good?” Sam said, eyes on the road.
A meeting. Because Kane had the Council. The full weight of that hadn’t landed yet—I’d been too busy being furious at Sam to let it—but it was settling now, cold and heavy in my gut.
“Sounds good,” I confirmed. It wasn’t like I could give him the silent treatment for the rest of my life, even if I did really want to.
I stared out the windshield at the pine trees blurring past.
“We need a plan.”
“That’s what the meeting’s for,” Sam replied.
“I meant a real plan. Not a roomful of people arguing about jurisdiction while Kane consolidates power.”
Sam glanced at me. “Relax. They’ll argue about jurisdiction for ten minutes, Ryan will growl, and everyone will suddenly remember they agree with him. It’s very efficient.
Sam pulled into the gravel driveway of Wally and Thomas’s house. The rosemary by the front steps sent up a sharp, clean scent, and my wolf stirred at the familiarity.
Safe territory, safe den.
The front door opened, and Thomas stepped out. Wally appeared at his shoulder, tea towel over one arm.
“Sam. Annabella.” Thomas smiled. “Good to see you both in one piece.”
I climbed out. “Thomas, this is my mom, Emma.” I pulled open the rear door where Aunt Jo was already easing Mom upright. “She needs help.”
Thomas took one look at Mom and nodded. “I’ve got her, Annabella. Let’s get her inside. Wally, guest room?”
“Ready and waiting, honey.”
Fred lifted Mom from the backseat. She stirred against his chest, murmured something none of us caught, then went under again. Ellie was still sleeping. Jo scooped her up, thumb and all, and carried her inside.
Thomas led Fred to the guest bedroom. I followed as far as the doorway and watched Fred settle Mom onto the bed, her dark hair fanning across the pillow, her breathing shallow. My wolf wanted to curl up at the foot of that bed and guard her.
Not now. Later.
“Annabella, I’ll need her full medical history,” Thomas said, pulling up a chair. “Medications, dosages, how long she’s been on each one.”
Aunt Jo strode in and set a cloth bag of medication bottles on the bedside table. “It’s all here. I can walk you through everything.”
Thomas opened the bag. Pulled out the first bottle, read the label. His hands paused on the second one—barely, half a breath—before he set it down and reached for the third.
“What?” I stepped into the room.
“Let me run some tests before I speculate.” His voice was even, professional. But his scent had shifted to something sharper.
Aunt Jo squeezed my arm. “Me and Fred can handle this. We know her routine better than anyone.” She glanced back toward the door. “Sam’s got Ellie. She’s still out cold.”
“Go,” Fred said from beside Mom’s bed. “Your mom is safe. We’ll make sure Thomas has everything he needs.”
I looked at Mom one more time, and the sharp angles of her face. Whatever Thomas had seen on that bottle label, I’d get it out of him later.
“I’ll be back,” I told her. She didn’t hear me. I said it anyway.
Sam was in the living room with Ellie on his hip.
She’d woken up, eyes wide, thumb abandoned, one fist bunched in the collar of Sam’s jacket. She had that look she got when the world was too big and too loud and nothing smelled right.
“Bella!” She reached for me, and I took her from Sam. She buried her face in my neck and breathed in, her small body shuddering once before going still. Scenting me. Grounding herself; wolf behavior.
“Hey, Ellie-belly.” I pressed my lips to the top of her head. “You’re okay.”
“Where’s Mommy?”
“With the doctor. He’s going to help her feel better.”
“Is this Mommy’s doctor’s house?”
“It is. And we’re going to leave you here with Aunt Jo and Uncle Fred while Sam and I go to a meeting.”
Ellie pulled back and studied Sam over my shoulder. “He smells like chocolate,” she told me. Not whispering. Not even slightly.
Sam kept a straight face, but I felt his amusement. “I’ve been told.”
“Are you Bella’s mate?”
Howling hell. She’d overheard Jo and Fred, obviously. Or she could feel it.
“Yeah,” I said. “He is.”
Ellie considered this. “Aunt Jo says mates are supposed to make you happy.”
“Aunt Jo’s right.”
“You don’t look happy.”
“That’s because he did something monumentally stupid and I haven’t decided if I’ll ever forgive him.”
Ellie tilted her head. “You should forgive him. He feels really loud about you.”
I blinked. “What do you mean, loud?”
“Inside.” She pressed a palm to her own chest. “He’s all bright in here when he looks at you, like sunshine.” She wrinkled her nose. “It’s hard to not hear it.”
Okay, then.
I glanced at Sam. He was grinning. Not his charming grin or his deflecting grin, but the real one. The one that made my wolf roll over like an idiot.
“Smart kid,” he said.
“Don’t you start.”
The kitchen door opened, and Wally swept in with a plate of banana bread sliced thick, still steaming. He spotted Ellie upright and awake and immediately gasped like she’d performed a resurrection.
“Oh, she’s alive!” He crouched to Ellie’s level, plate balanced on one hand like a waiter at a five-star restaurant.
“Hello, gorgeous girl. You were sleeping when you got here, which means we haven’t been properly introduced, and I refuse to live in a world where introductions aren’t properly done.
I’m Wally. This is my house. That banana bread is still warm. And I already adore you.”
Ellie studied him the way she studied everything: seriously, thoroughly, with the unblinking focus of a child who hadn’t yet learned to pretend. Then: “Your shirt has flowers on it.”
“It does. Hibiscus. Do you approve?”
“I want one.”
Wally’s whole face transformed. “Oh, you angel. You absolute angel. I can make you a matching set. A little dress, or dungarees if you’re more of a dungarees girl. We could be twins.”
“Twins!” Ellie bounced on my hip. “Bella, did you hear? We’re going to be twins!”
“I heard, monkey.”
“With hibiscus.”
Gravel crunched outside. I moved to the window; two vehicles were pulling in. Jase behind the wheel of the first, Sofia climbing out of the passenger side. Derek’s SUV right behind.
“Derek,” Sam said. “He’d have called Sofia the second he dropped Talia at Shaw Investigations.”
Sofia climbed out and smoothed down her emerald-green shirt, once, twice, three times.
She looked at the house and her feet didn’t move.
Jase’s shoulders were stiff, hands shoved in his pockets, jaw set.
Derek took three strides to Sofia, and slipped his arms around her without hesitation, one hand on the back of her head, his whole body curved around hers.
He pressed his mouth to her hair, and Sofia leaned into him.
I glanced at Sam. He was watching his twin with an expression I couldn’t quite read.
Something between admiration and ache. The twin bond, I realized.
He was feeling Derek’s emotions layered over his own.
I wondered if Derek knew how much Sam missed him.
How wide the distance between them had grown while Sam was working for the Council.
I left the window and took the stairs two at a time. Jo and Fred were still in the guest bedroom, Thomas bent over his notes.
“Aunt Jo. Uncle Fred.” They looked up. “Sofia and Jase are here.”
Jo’s hand flew to her mouth as she gripped Uncle Fred’s arm. Fred covered her hand with his, squeezed once, and pulled her gently to her feet. Then they were down the stairs and out the front door.
I ran back to the window.
Sofia looked up and saw them.
Nobody moved. Jo and Fred on the porch steps. Sofia and Jase in the driveway. Then Jo rushed down the steps, crossed the gravel, and pulled both her children into her arms.
Sofia broke first. One ragged sound against her mother’s shoulder, and then she was holding on like she’d never let go.
Jase lasted about three seconds longer before his arms came around them both.
Fred closed the circle, his chin on top of Jo’s head, eyes shut, one hand gripping the back of his son’s neck.
They stood there. Just stood there, crying and holding on. There’d be more later; hard conversations to have, but right now, they had found each other again.
“Howling hell,” I breathed.
I was not going to cry. I was the bad-ass Annabella McGrath, and I was absolutely not going to cry.
My eyes burned anyway. Traitors.
Behind me, Wally appeared with Ellie on his hip, a smear of banana bread on her cheek. He stopped when he saw the scene outside.
“Oh, that’s happening right now? In my driveway?” He pressed his free hand to his chest. “I need to sit down. This is too much beauty for a Tuesday.”
“It’s Thursday,” Sam said.
“It’s too much beauty for any day, Sam.”
I turned from the window, suddenly feeling like I was intruding on their private moment. “Let’s give them some space.”
Wally was already settling Ellie higher on his hip.
“We’ll be in the kitchen. I promised this one a fashion consultation, and I have fabric swatches that won’t look at themselves.
” He bopped Ellie’s nose. “Besides, someone will need to taste-test the next batch of banana bread when it comes out. It’s a very serious job. Only qualified people need apply.”
“I’m qualified,” Ellie said solemnly.
“You are supremely qualified.” Wally swept her toward the kitchen. “Now, should the hibiscus dungarees have pockets? Trick question! Everything should have pockets.”
Their voices faded down the hall, and for a second, the world felt less like it was ending.
Then Sam’s phone buzzed. He checked the screen, and his expression sharpened.
“Ryan.” He held up the phone. “There’s news on the takeover. He needs everyone at Shaw Investigations. Now.”
I looked out the window one more time. Sofia was still in her mother’s arms. Derek stood nearby. Jase and Uncle Fred were off to one side, talking. I glanced at Sam. He was watching me, not the reunion. Steady. Patient. Like he’d stand in that spot for however long it took me to be ready.
“You’re still not forgiven,” I said.
“I know.”
“I want you to understand the scale of not forgiven we’re talking about. This is not a forgot-my-birthday type of not forgiven. There isn’t a cinnamon roll big enough for this.”
“I wasn’t going to try a cinnamon roll.”
“Good. Because I’d shove it up your—”
“Noted.” He held the front door open for me. “So, just out of curiosity, what would work?”
“I haven’t decided yet. That’s part of your punishment. The not knowing if anything will work.”
He had the nerve to smile. “You’re enjoying this.”
“One of us should be. You certainly wouldn’t be enjoying anything for the next fifty years.”