Chapter 33
Tuesday’s grandmother’s birthday party was held on pack lands, since so many people wanted to come.
Not just family, but nearly the whole damned pack.
Her mom had been in town since the full moon run, but even her dad showed up for the party.
She was hanging out with cousins when she scented her dad, and went running to hug him when she saw him walking toward them with her mom, who’d probably just picked him up from the airport.
Her mom touched her, leaned in to sniff, and gave her an odd look, which Tuesday opted to ignore. Her cousins had already asked what was up with the non-pack wolf, but she’d been able to easily get them off the topic without them even realizing she had.
Her mom wasn’t going to fall for that though.
“I’m so glad you could come,” she told her dad. “The table is loaded down with food, c’mon and I’ll show you what’s good.”
“Tuesday Marie,” her mother said from behind them, and her dad lifted his brows at her, as if to ask ‘what have you done?’
She turned to look at her mother, who had her hands on her hips.
“I scent a wolf on you. No, not on you, he’s buried in deep. Something you want to tell us?”
She stared at her mom, trying to figure out what to tell her, and her mom added, “Not pack. Lone wolf.”
“I know.”
Another ten seconds, and her mom asked, “I don’t have to ask if it’s serious, the scent tells me it is, so I guess my question is why it’s a secret.”
Tuesday wanted to argue it wasn’t serious, but she knew it would come off as a lie because she was remembering the strain of that last hellacious pose while he fed her steak from his fingers.
“It’s complicated, and I can’t explain something I don’t actually understand.”
“Is he married?”
“No!” It came out angry because her mother should know her better than that. But she immediately realized her mother was trying to figure out why she was keeping someone obviously under her skin such a secret.
“No. He isn’t married, isn’t a serial killer, and I trust him completely, but… it’s complicated, Mom, and I’d really rather not have this conversation right here, right now.”
Her mother accepted that, but her father said, “No idea what your mom is scenting, but you know I’m always here if you need me.”
“I do know that,” she told him. “And it means the world to me, but this is just something I have to figure out.”
For whatever reason, no one else mentioned the mystery wolf for hours.
Until she was talking to Willow later, and Silas came up, sniffed toward her, and said, “Oh, so it’s you.”
Tuesday just stared at him while Willow asked him, “Does that mean you know who the mystery wolf is?”
Since Willow hadn’t said anything to Tuesday about scenting him, that meant the whole damned pack knew not to mention him. There are no secrets in a pack.
Knife had told her he knew Silas. Who else knew Knife well enough to pick up who they were scenting?
She glared at Silas, and he said, “Secret’s safe with me, but be careful.”
Later, when the party had softened into the loose, late-evening drift of people who weren’t ready to leave yet, her grandmother found her sitting on a boulder a little away from the house, and she climbed up and sat beside her.
“Do you want to talk about it?” her grandmother asked.
Tuesday looked across the ceremony grounds, the tree line going dark at the edge of the grass, and saw movement inside the forest. Probably a squirrel, but this time of the evening it might be a raccoon.
“No,” she said. “But thank you.”
Her grandmother nodded and reached over to pat her hand once, and they sat together in the quiet.
Because no one could help Tuesday figure this one out. Did she love him more than she loved the pack? Because it was becoming clear to her, she was going to have to choose. The one man she couldn’t have was the one who happened to be her very own soul mate.
And no amount of talking or crying was going to change that.
Life isn’t fair, and whining about it doesn’t change anything, but she’d changed to wolf and back Thursday, and then again that morning.
If he was still under her skin, that was a problem.
- - - ? - - -
Knife walked down the block with Duke, Brain, Bubbles, Dozer, and a prospect, on their way to old Mrs. Johnson’s house, each carrying a load of supplies. The day promised to be hot and muggy, but better than a storm that restricted them to their indoor tasks.
Mrs. Johnson had lived on this street longer than most of them had been alive.
She sat on her porch most days, watching the world turn, and was always full of gossip.
A few times a year, they brought food — to keep her from feeding them — and handled basic household maintenance and upkeep for her.
They all adored her, and often went inside to open jars for her, unstick a window, or whatever else she needed.
She was waiting on the porch for them, and her sharp eyes watched Dozer set the ladder up so he could clean her gutters. “Ya’ll are such nice men. I don’t know what I’d do without all of you.”
They followed her in, and Knife put the food in the fridge and walked straight to her smoke alarm to change the battery while he noted her sink was dripping. Again. Duke had brought a whole new fixture this time, rather than just trying to change out washers and such.
Knife listened to Brain get started teaching her about her new phone.
Her old one would no longer hold a charge, so the club had bought her a new one, made by the same manufacturer so it’d be the smallest learning curve possible.
Brain already had it set up for her, to make teaching her how to use it as simple and streamlined as he could manage.
Knife went outside to trim her bushes, talking shit with Bubbles while they worked.
When he finished the bushes, he added screws to the railing leading down her steps to stop the slight wobble he felt, and he heard a loud sound followed by Duke shouting a string of motherfucker damn shit fuck!
Old Mrs. Johnson said, “Oh, heavens! Are you okay, Duke?”
“I’m fine,” Duke growled, and then softened his voice to add, “Wrench slipped.”
He didn’t sound fine, he sounded aggravated and still in pain, and Knife laughed.
“Our venerable leader,” Bubbles said from the top of the ladder, “beaten by an unwitting pipe wrench.” He blew out a breath. “We’re going to need to consider replacing some of this fascia next time. Might not hurt to organize another painting party next summer, too.”
Knife nodded, driving the last screw home.
The railing felt solid now. These small fixes weren’t glamorous, just men helping someone who did her best to help their not-so-small family.
She’d recognized early on that the club was keeping out the riff-raff, and she’d jumped right in to be a good neighbor to them.
To help out despite the fact it put her in danger, at first.
So of course the club had adopted her as a grandmotherly neighbor. This wasn’t the kind of family you were born into, but the one you choose, and then keep choosing. Week after week. Year after year.
He’d been a lone wolf for the first time ever when he’d left the mountain, and he’d lucked into meeting the club while he was camping in the North Georgia mountains, trying to figure out how to exist without a pack before he went to a city to find work.
He knew he’d be able to get a job as a butcher without a problem, but not until he got his bearings as a wolf without a pack.
And what were the odds the men he met would be looking for someone to run a slaughterhouse they were thinking of building? It was The Universe taking care of him. No question.
So how could he walk away from them for a woman?
But how could he not?
With the handrail secure, Knife went inside to change out the blinds in Mrs. Johnson’s front window.
They’d bought her electric ones, so she could operate them with a remote, without needing to get up.
She left them open all the time so she could see what was going on outside, and the brothers had decided this was a security risk.
Inside, he cut up with Dozer about his ol’lady.
Daisy had been doing a cover-up tattoo on a woman when her boyfriend came in and tried to stop Daisy from inking over the asshole’s name up on his ex-girlfriend’s tit, ranting about it always being his tit, and no one could erase that.
Viper had stepped in to handle the boyfriend, and — while Viper was holding his arms twisted behind his back, explaining how he was never to walk back in the doors unless he wanted a worse beat down than the one he’d just received — Daisy had kicked the bastard in the nuts with all her strength. Three fucking times.
“Do you wear a steel cup when you’re sleeping around your ball-kicking wife?” Knife asked him.
“No, motherfucker. Do you wear one around your secret pack-wolf you assure us is just a fuck-buddy?”
“No need. She doesn’t sleep with me.” Mrs. Johnson was fully engrossed in learning her new phone, so he added, “She hangs in my motherfucking ropes all night.”
The prospect was spraying WD-40 in her front doorknob, working it with the key, and said, “Shit, really!?”
“Yes,” Dozer said. “Not a reason in the world to doubt him on that one.”
- - - ? - - -
Two hours later, Knife’s insides were in knots on what should’ve been a fun drive up the mountain to Homewood, but he had no idea how things would work if he ran into Tuesday.
He loved riding with his brothers — dozens of motorcycles roaring up the mountain, and then pulling into the parking area at Homewood. Everyone knew when the MC arrived.
People were already milling around, and he could clearly see the seating areas, the food areas, the blow-up castle and other things brought in for the kids, and a whole lot of shapeshifters.
The sun would go down in a little while, and then the vampires would arrive.
Cora and Kirsten walked to them to welcome them, and Kirsten went to one of their chase vans to hug the kids — and returned to them with Duke and Gen’s youngest riding her shoulders.