14. Paul #2
I paused, chuckling as a particular memory rose to the surface.
“Penelope had massive tonsils and adenoids and her doctors were waiting for her to get her first shift so the recovery from surgery would be easier and quicker, but it became too much after she got strep throat and a secondary infection twice when she was just thirteen.
“You should have seen how Father babied her. He took two weeks off and set alarms on his phone for every dose of medication, as well as to check if she was properly hydrated, hungry, or even bored. Not only that, but his assistant and all our house-staff also had those alerts. If they didn’t see it canceled by my father five minutes after they sounded, they were to check on her immediately.
“She got two different gaming systems, including a handheld one, a bunch of games, a stuffed unicorn as big as she was, and a bigger bed so the unicorn could sleep with her.” I’d forgotten this memory, and it filled me with a warmth I hadn’t been prepared for.
“When Penelope was a few days out from the surgery, he had her favorite author come by for tea, then he read that book to her every night unless she wanted to watch nature documentaries or court procedurals. He also introduced her to Legally Blonde , which she loved.”
Cherry laughed softly. “That sounds lovely.”
“It was. It really was. And despite his and Jackson’s issues, he was like that with Jackie too. Held his hand when he broke his arm climbing a wall, rumbled with soothing subharmonics whenever Jack cried at the dentist—he’s always hated the dentist. Dad was a protector, through and through.”
“And what about Luther?”
“Luther was… kind. And quiet. He grew about a foot during the summer right before he got his wolf. Everyone was going on about how he would be such a hulking alpha. That my father would have to watch out for him because he was going to be a menace. But he just… wasn’t.
“He played football and joined the wrestling team, sure, but he also tried his hand at theater. He only got to do a couple of plays until his schedule as heir-apparent became too intense.” But was that anything below the surface? No. I dug deeper into memories full of cobwebs and faint echoes.
“He was super into the special effects that went into fantasy, sci-fi, and horror movies. Used to talk about wanting to visit a studio that’s big into it in Australia. Or… New Zealand, I think? He had all the extended editions of The Lord of the Rings and The Hobbit .”
“Do you think he would have been an actor if he didn’t have to be alpha?”
“No, he never seemed to really like the limelight. But maybe that was because he got too much of it being the alpha-heir of our pack. I think he’d have gone into behind-the-scenes stuff and movie creation more than anything.”
Huh. For some reason, I’d never thought about what Luther would have done with his life if he’d had a say in the matter. He’d always been destined to be alpha.
That wasn’t very fair, was it?
“He was a good brother. I started having nightmares after Mom died. It was the day she collapsed. The pregnancy had been going great so far, so we had no warning. One moment she was laughing and Chris was rubbing her feet, the next we had every healer we could possibly get into our home.”
I grimaced, recalling that awful time. “In the nightmare, I kept reliving that day over and over again. Every time, I tried to do something different, to warn her, to call the doctor—anything a kid could think of that would help. Nothing ever worked. She always died.” Tears welled in my eyes as I was suddenly faced with everything I had lost, everything my entire family had lost. We’d all tried to pretend like everything was shipshape and gone on with our lives, but we really hadn’t… had we?
“I saw my mom die dozens of times, and every time I woke up screaming, Luther would be there. He’d hold me until I stopped crying, then get me to fall asleep in his bed. Too much responsibility for a kid, really.”
“Do you think you all had too much responsibility once your mom died?”
“Maybe.” I took a deep breath and tried to calm my emotions, not because I was ashamed, but because they were private and vulnerable, and there was about to be a whole bunch of familiar people and strangers in the room staring at me. “But that’s a conversation for a different time.”
“I understand,” Cherry said, and it felt like she really, truly did. “I think they’d both be proud of you.”
“Do you?” I couldn’t help the dry, bitter laugh that escaped out of me.
“Of course. Why do you say it that way?”
Was it time to be painfully truthful? Perhaps. It wasn’t like I could lie to Cherry anyway, even if she had lied to me. “All the things my father wanted for us, all the things I was supposed to do… mostly I just keep failing him.”
“I don’t believe that for one second. I really don’t. I get that your father had his flaws, and honestly your family is a mess, but you can’t tell me that the same man who kept a drawer full of treasures ever felt anything but a deep and abiding love for you.”
Her palm moved from my arm to my own hand, resting there like a cool compress.
“I know, without a single ounce of doubt, that he is proud of you, Paul.”
I had no words to reply to her. When I looked at her, I saw a camaraderie there that felt a bit unearned. How could Cherry look at me like she knew me so well? How could there be that much caring in those mismatched eyes?
“Thank you,” I said in the end. All my higher-education vocabulary died on my tongue and left only the simple.
“Anytime. Really .”
I nodded, throat tightening, but I was saved from having to delve any deeper into my evaporating vocabulary by another soft knock at the door. This time it was Penelope who entered.
“Guests are about to enter. Time to take our positions.”
“Thank you,” I said, gently pulling my hand away from Cherry and straightening. If my sister thought anything about the stressed pheromones I was releasing, she didn’t say so. She simply waited for me to join her, then pressed a kiss to my cheek.
God, when was the last time she’d done that? Maybe when she’d gone away to get her master’s degree? It seemed that in trying to be the best alpha family for our pack, we’d lost what it meant to be a family. I aimed to change that.
Provided we survived.
“Let’s take our places.”
There were so many people.
I was acutely aware of not only how many people were in our pack, as spread out as it was, but also the approximate pack numbers of the two other great families. Between the Marchendi, McElroy, and Bouchard packs, we could practically make a whole city.
“We’re so sorry for your loss,” Alpha McElroy said, approaching me and shaking my hand.
“Thank you,” I murmured, a phrase I was going to be saying a lot.
The alpha was a short, shrewd man who wasn’t unkind but was rather known for his spendthrift ways. He was always looking for one discount or another and had caused enough contract renegotiations to justify my entire career for the family.
But he wasn’t an evil man. Apparently, he ran all sorts of programs for his pack, including a book-a-month literacy program. From what I heard, he got the idea from a country legend (or was it a pop star?) and it had been a huge success.
“Sorry for your loss,” his wife said. I didn’t know her well. I wasn’t really interested in social gossip, but as far as I knew, she was fairly anti-social and hated crowds.
It was hard to look at either of them and think they could be the ones who put out the hits on my siblings and contracted a magical assassin to kill my father and brother.
“Sorry for your loss.”
“I’m sorry for your loss.”
“Sorry for your loss.”
“Sorry.”
“I’m so sorry for your loss.”
On and on it went, down the line of their children and then their higher-ups until it was the Chevalier family’s turn.
The Chevalier family headed the Bouchard pack, and they were always late to everything, so I wasn’t surprised that they were behind the McElroys, just that they were so early in the lineup of shifters waiting to express their condolences.
I had expected them to be more toward the back.
“Sorry for your loss.”
“So sorry, so sorry…”
Those phrases were beginning to merge together into meaningless sounds, an endless drone that served as background noise for the macabre gathering.
Funerals were supposed to be a celebration of life, but there wasn’t really anything about our gathering that felt remotely close to that.
If I had to guess, it was because most people were either curious or shocked by the sudden deaths, since the details of the murders hadn’t been released to the public yet, and the rest of my family was on high alert for someone to sweep in and kill us.
Not exactly a recipe for a rip-roaring good time.
Hmm, I’m starting to sound like Cherry.
I supposed she had that effect on people.
After the other two great shifter families of the East Coast came a lot of their heads of command, and then the Parracidas.
No doubt Alexandria had prepared quite a few things for the meal after the funeral.
Catering really hadn’t been on my radar, but someone had handled it. I wasn’t sure who, actually.
“This truly is a tragedy,” their father said.
I didn’t really interact with him much. That was more of a Chris thing, as he dealt with the personnel contract side of operations.
None of the Parracidas had wolves, save for those who married into the line, but they still had skills that helped all the great families.
Still, I appreciated that it was a sentence without the word “loss” in it, so I took his hand and shook it.