Chapter 18
Eighteen
O liver bumped into three birdhouses on the way to Jackon’s front porch.
“They’re everywhere ,” he hissed when Luna turned around to glare at him. “Not everybody is as small as you!”
He expected her to preen. Maybe strike a pose like she was so fond of doing, as if waiting for someone to take her picture. Instead, she just looked at him, gaze lingering on his broad shoulders.
“No, they are not,” she said impishly and turned to knock on Jackson’s front door.
Oliver tucked his elbows in and shimmied past another cluster of birdhouses. There were several dozens of them littering the yard, each of them hanging from a display with a dewy price tag attached, the plastic misty from last night’s snow. It only came up to Oliver’s ankles, which told him a lot about what he considered normal . Once upon a time, snow up to his ankles would’ve been a surprise.
He made it to the front porch, shaking snow off his boots, just in time for the door to creak open.
“Oh,” said Jackson, already wearing overalls despite the early hour. His wings twitched where they were folded behind his back. “Hello.”
“Hi!” Luna fluffed her blonde hair up, which she insisted was ruined by the hood she’d been wearing in the car on the way over. The drive hadn’t been long enough for the heater to warm up properly.
“Sorry to interrupt your Saturday morning,” she continued. “Beth gave us your address. I hope that’s okay. Oliver has something to say to you!”
She turned to him, smiling widely. She had been annoyed by the roof caving in again, like everybody else. But she’d been delighted to prove herself right in saying that he should’ve let a professional handle it, even if she tamed her reaction down yesterday. Since you were having an emotional time and all, she’d said on the way over.
Jackson looked at him, waiting. He looked expectant, and Oliver sighed as he realized they all knew what was coming.
“The roof caved in again,” he admitted.
“Oh, wow,” said Jackon mildly. “During the storm? Wow. Who could’ve seen that coming?”
“Truly nobody,” Luna said brightly.
Oliver squeezed the bridge of his nose. At least Jackson was doing his best to hide it. Luna was bouncing smugly in her boots.
“Look, you don’t have to rub my nose in it,” Oliver said. “Just… tell me how much it’ll cost to get you to fix it.”
Jackson’s eyebrows rose up his scaly forehead. “Fix it? Not just consult?”
Oliver waited, hoping he would keep going and he wouldn’t have to humble himself further. But the silence stretched. Luna dug an elbow into his side.
Oliver glared at her megawatt smile. It dimmed slightly like she was reminding herself that he had gone through something very emotional yesterday. Oliver told himself he wasn’t touched and turned back to Jackson.
“Seems like a waste of time for me to fix it again if it’ll just collapse during the next storm,” he admitted.
Luna’s smile turned into something even smaller. Almost proud. Oliver couldn’t look at it for long before he had to turn away.
Jackson fiddled with the straps of his overalls. “Sounds about right. I can come now if you want. I just need to grab some supplies first.”
“That would be great ,” Luna chirped. Then she winced, nodding for Oliver to take over.
“That would be great,” Oliver repeated at a normal level of peppiness for this time in the morning. “Are you sure? The snow’s stopped, so the tarp will hold if you have other things to do this morning.”
But Jackson was already shaking his head. “Can’t have guests walk in and have that hole in the roof be the first thing they see. Heard you’re getting more lately.”
“We are,” Luna said triumphantly. “I mean, they are. I’m just the marketing girlie.”
Oliver stared at her. “You pick now to be humble?”
Luna shot him a coquettish look over her shoulder. It faltered after only a few seconds. That had been happening a lot. She’d start with something irritated or coy or flirty and then it would turn into something small and tentative. In those moments, Party Girl Ready For A Camera was gone, and Luna stood in her place.
Jackson cleared his throat. Oliver tore his gaze away from Luna to see the dragonborn watching him with a knowing smile.
“Uh,” Oliver said. He straightened his coat. “So, we’ll see you soon?”
“Soon enough,” Jackson replied. “You kids go on now.”
Oliver bumped into another three birdhouses on the way out. Luna laughed, but they were short, snippy laughs like her mind was elsewhere.
Breakfast was in full swing back at the inn, and the pack gathered in the common room around the table.
Oliver sat down in his usual seat, looking at the empty chair where Grandmother always sat.
“Where’s Grandmother?”
“She’s not feeling well,” Leo told him with the snide tone of a child who wasn’t sure the adults had told him the complete truth.
Oliver frowned at Ben, who shrugged .
“’S what she said,” he told Oliver, digging into his cereal. Bran and banana because he was “taking care of his health now,” and pancakes on the side because “pancakes don’t cancel out the bran, dumbass.”
Luna leaned over. “Why do you look constipated? People get colds, Oliver.”
“Not werewolves,” he replied. “If she’s sick?—”
He stopped himself as every adult at the table glared at him. He’d been about to explain Grandmother’s heart condition, which had required an operation five years ago.
“Which she isn’t,” Oliver said hastily, but the damage was done.
Leo slammed his spoon down. “This is stupid! I’m not a baby; you can tell me if she’s dying.”
“Leo,” Sabine and Ben snapped in one.
“She’s just tired,” Uncle Roy said from over by the coffee machine. “Hey. Don’t listen to anybody who says she’s sick. Alright? Grandmother’s tough as fangs. That includes her heart.”
Leo went back to his colorful cereal, grumbling under his breath. Vida and Darren traded a worried look across the table, pausing over their toast.
Oliver wiped the anxiety off his face. “Hey, never mind that. People get tired all the time. As Uncle Roy said, she’s tough as fangs. Eat your breakfast.”
The other kids went back to their food, still trading silent looks. Beside him, Luna was picking at her toast and trying not to look concerned. She was doing a very bad job of it, tearing absentmindedly at her crust and staring at the table with a thousand-yard stare. Even without reaching through the bond, he could see her running through a mental catalog of every health issue she might’ve overlooked since she arrived, while Oliver was doing the exact same thing.
Oliver nudged her leg under the table.
She looked up, startled. Her toast was in shreds on her plate, picked apart by her nervous fingers.
He shook his head. It’s fine, he mouthed.
She smiled back at him. It was the kind of smile that wanted to be comforted but couldn’t quite get there. It did make her start actually eating her toast, so he was counting it as a win.
Oliver fought the urge to push through the bond to see what she was feeling. They’d agreed . He wasn’t about to ignore that just because he wanted to know how to make her feel better.
Ben cleared his throat. “So did you have to grovel?”
Oliver blinked. “What?”
“With Jackson,” Ben explained, scraping up the last spoonful of cereal and pulling his pancake plate closer. “Did he make you grovel?”
“You know Jackson,” Oliver said dryly. “He’s a petty dragon.”
Ben stabbed his fork toward Luna. “I hope you took photos.”
“So many,” Luna said. She kicked Oliver in the ankle.
Oliver looked over, expecting to be let in on their continued joke about Jackson. But Luna was making pointed eye contact with something across the room, mouth pulled awkwardly tight.
Oliver turned. Uncle Roy was staring daggers at him from the coffee machine. As soon as he met Oliver’s eyes, he jerked his head toward the hallway door. Then he strode toward it, obviously expecting Oliver to follow.
“Good luck,” Luna mumbled into her toast.
Oliver didn’t bother reminding her that everybody in this room could hear that. He got up, swiping a piece of toast from his plate. He was even more worried now, but he was also starving.
Oliver managed to stuff the entire piece of toast into his mouth before they made it to the lobby, eyeing the crumbs falling to the carpet with the weariness of a man who would be vacuuming later. He really needed to hire some cleaners. Maybe he would do that when the idea of letting someone else into the inner workings of the inn stopped making him want to tear his hair out. He’d asked Jackson to work on the roof, which was a step toward that.
“Hey,” Oliver said as soon as they got out of earshot. “What’s up with Grandmother, really? Is she alright?”
Uncle Roy waved a dismissive hand. “She’s fine. Look, we didn’t get to talk last night. You’re not getting stupid over this human, right?”
“What?”
Uncle Roy gritted his teeth. “I just— Everybody wants you to open up . Because they’re stupid. You did open up. Opened up the door to that woman who tried to burn us in our beds.”
Oliver went cold. He thought this was behind them. There had been a moment last night after he’d pinned the tarp back in place and he’d come back inside to everybody drinking hot chocolate. They’d gathered around him, rubbing their faces against his cheek like he was a little kid, under the guise of warming him up. But he knew it for what it was: telling him there was no harm done. That all was forgiven. Even Luna had joined in, giggling about his stubble. Uncle Roy had stood off in the corner, and Oliver hadn’t thought anything of it. It was hard to get Uncle Roy to join in on anything, especially physical affection. Oliver had caught him glaring at Luna, but as soon as he noticed, Uncle Roy would go back to sipping his hot chocolate.
“Luna isn’t dangerous,” Oliver tried. “She’s a spoiled priss, but she won’t hurt us.”
It went against every scared instinct he’d built up in the last year. But as soon as he said it, those instincts that had fueled him to yell at his grandmother yesterday shrank back. It was easier to see his beliefs, his real beliefs, behind the fear. Luna wouldn’t hurt the pack. Not if she could help it.
Uncle Roy growled, the noise rumbling low in his throat. “Look. Say she isn’t dangerous. She still isn’t one of us. Don’t let them convince you she is. Don’t let her.”
“I’m not,” Oliver said, ignoring the bond writhing sadly in his chest. “She isn’t.”
“She’s a tourist at best,” Uncle Roy continued over him. “She’ll probably put this inn on her portfolio to convince her daddy to let her do some actual work for once. That stunt our alpha pulled yesterday? That was the stupidest shit I’ve ever seen.”
“ Hey ,” Oliver snapped, hackles going up.
Uncle Roy held up his gnarled hands. “I didn’t call her stupid. I said she did something stupid. Why drag this out? That woman is leaving , and we will be here long after she does. We . Pack .” He thumped Oliver’s chest hard, the way he used to do before football games in high school. “The only good thing that came out of that fire is it finally got someone else in this family to agree with me. Do not let outsiders in! You’re going to be alpha one day. Are you putting the pack first?”
Oliver fought back another wave of defensiveness. Good alphas hear their packmates out . But they’d all learned to tune out some of Uncle Roy’s more colorful opinions, even if Oliver had listened more closely in the past year.
“I always put the pack first,” he argued. “But Luna—she’s good for the inn. She was talking about doing some official partnerships with some stores around town.”
“You hate this town! You said the townsfolk were annoying busybodies!”
“They are,” Oliver said. “But I think they genuinely want to help! Jackson dropped everything to come and spend his weekend fixing up our roof! He texted me on the way over to say he’s only going to charge me half of his usual rates! ”
Uncle Roy let out another growl and started pacing. “Do you hear yourself? You’re getting soft again.”
“It’s what our alpha wants,” Oliver reminded him.
“Our alpha is WRONG!” Uncle Roy came to a sudden stop. He squeezed his eyes shut with a shudder. Before Oliver could tell him how far he was out of line, Uncle Roy looked back up with a snarl. “She’s shoving that woman at you, shoving that fake bond. It makes you feel like you need that woman. You don't!”
“You bonded with a human,” Oliver reminded him. “You brought a ‘stranger’ into the pack, you giant hypocrite!”
“I never should’ve! And I never should’ve agreed to that bond—it’s poison. Worming its way into your bones, making you think you have something with that stranger !”
Oliver had to fight to keep his teeth blunt. He could feel his wolf inside him, stalking in agitated circles. Threatening to come out and grab Uncle Roy by the scruff of his neck, give him a well-deserved shake for saying these things about Luna, let alone about his own alpha .
A growl ripped out of his throat, loud enough to make Uncle Roy twitch.
“It didn’t make me think shit,” he snarled. “It made me want to be close to her, sure. But it didn’t make me LIKE her. She did that all on her own. I know it won’t last, alright? I’m not an idiot. I just think?—”
He stopped, the words sticking in his throat.
Uncle Roy stared at Oliver, his eyes wet and wounded. He really had been excited to have someone in the family who agreed with him, even if he was more enthusiastic about it than Oliver was comfortable with. He tried to bring it up with Oliver, only for Oliver to make the first excuse he could think of and leave him to his ranting. But he couldn’t leave this. Not without sticking up for Luna.
Oliver swallowed thickly. “Maybe she’s good for us, Uncle Roy. Maybe we’re good for her. Is that so bad?”
Uncle Roy sucked in a wet gasp. The burn mark on his cheek was white and faded with age. And yet, standing there under the harsh lobby lights, it had never looked brighter.
The lobby door creaked open.
Oliver turned to watch Jackson step in, smoke trailing from his nostrils. He often kept a fire in his mouth while he was walking, keeping himself warm. He stopped as he took in the two men, who were standing as tight as clenched fists.
“Ah,” Jackson said. “Is this a bad time?”
“No,” Uncle Roy snarled. “Come right in. Have your run of the place, why don’t you?”
“Uncle Roy,” Oliver said. “That’s enough .”
Uncle Roy snarled at him, teeth sharpening into fangs. For a second, Oliver’s hackles went up, and he thought he might have to actually fight his uncle right here in the lobby.
Then Uncle Roy’s face fell. He stared over Oliver’s shoulder with such slack shock that Oliver whirled immediately .
Grandmother stood in the hall, swaying on the spot. She had three shawls wrapped tightly around her body. Her only exposed skin was her face, which was slick with sweat. She looked dazed.
Oliver rushed forward, taking her gently by the arms. “Grandmother! What’s wrong? Does something hurt?”
It took her a moment to focus on him. It filled him with fear to see those eyes, usually so keen, clouded over.
Her lips came unstuck with a wet noise.
“I think…” she began weakly.
Then she collapsed into his arms.