Chapter 16 #2
The question breaks Quinn’s momentary stillness. She nods, pigtails bouncing, and steps further into the living room, drawn to a row of carved wooden figures arranged on the mantel.
“Those are animals,” Emily explains, “that I carved.”
Quinn reaches out with careful fingers to touch a leaping fish. “Like Uncle Blake?”
“Well, maybe not as good as Uncle Blake,” she says. “Look around. Just be careful with the carvings, please.”
Released from formality, Quinn tugs Sprinkles into the living room, her attention captured by the collections of handmade items that fill the shelves. Blake follows at a distance, keeping an eye on her while giving her space to explore.
The adults gravitate toward the kitchen, where homemade hamburger and hot dog buns sit on cooling racks, along with the promised brownies.
I prop my cane by the counter. “Do you need a hand?”
Emily pulls carrots, onions, and mushrooms from the refrigerator. “Everything’s mostly ready. Jared can handle the grill if you’d put these on a platter.”
Jared opens a door to the backyard, letting in a burst of pine-scented air. “I’ll heat the grill. Just need to know what everyone wants.”
Emily takes a survey and takes the meat and cheese out back while Chloe and I work on putting the veggies onto the platter on the counter.
Through the window, I see Emily hovering at Jared’s shoulder as he preps the grill, and he snaps the tongs at her.
I smile at their antics, feeling a wistful twinge as I watch the way they orbit each other with comfortable familiarity, anticipating needs before they’re voiced.
“They’re good together,” Chloe murmurs, her attention caught by the two Alphas. “It’s so clear they love each other.”
A lump forms in my throat. “It is.”
Chloe’s pink eyes shift to me. “Have you considered that they might be—”
“Em!” Blake booms through the house, disrupting Chloe as he and Quinn join us in the kitchen, Sprinkles at their heels. “Where’s this fabled shop I heard about?”
“Come out to the backyard,” she yells through the cracked window over the sink.
Quinn rushes toward the door with Sprinkles, flushed with excitement. “Ms. Emily! Your office has so many books! And pictures of buildings!”
“Those are projects I’ve worked on,” Emily explains. “Would you like to see more after lunch?”
“Yes, please,” Quinn squeals.
The meal unfolds on the back patio as we gather at a picnic table set up under a pergola. Sprinkles races around the yard, sniffing at all the new bushes and trees while Emily passes around potato and pasta salads, and everyone loads up their plates.
Conversations flow between Blake discussing the Phase Two schedule, Chloe sharing her current book progress, and Jared regaling everyone with childhood stories of his summers with his cousin, Kyle.
“These buns are incredible,” Chloe moans around a mouthful of burger. “I’d swear there’s magic in it.”
Emily’s lips curve upward. “Just time and patience. The dough fermented overnight.”
“Don’t let her fool you,” Jared adds, refilling Blake’s glass of lemonade. “She was up at five, making sure everything was ready.”
The teasing continues, comfort food and companionship settling into an afternoon of perfect contentment.
Sprinkles gets tired of investigating and lies at Quinn’s feet, accepting the small bites she slips to him when she thinks no one is watching.
Sunlight warms our shoulders, birds call from the trees, and for this suspended moment, everything sits in harmony.
After the main course, Emily brings out coffee and brownies.
The adults settle into deeper chairs, conversation mellowing as the food works its magic.
Quinn runs away from Blake’s attempt to clean the chocolate from around her mouth and plays fetch with Sprinkles, her laughter carrying back to us each time the dog returns with the soft ball she throws.
When Emily takes Blake to show him the shop at the back of the yard, Jared lets out a relieved breath. “Thank you all for coming. Emily won’t admit it, but she was worried about today. It’s been a long time since she felt comfortable having guests.”
I remember the one encounter I had with her old Omega, and anger shoots through me. No, I don’t imagine he let her invite friends over. Not when it would have taken attention away from him.
“She was going to invite Leif, too, but...” Jared shrugs, but the scowl that twists his lips gives away his opinion about the older Omega.
“I hope Leif starts coming around again,” Chloe murmurs. “Ever since Quinn started school, we don’t see him as often.”
He had begun to pull back before then, though Chloe probably doesn’t realize it, since she’s an infrequent attendee to the Saturday Market trips.
As the conversation shifts again, I push to my feet. “Restroom?”
Jared points toward the house. “Go right at the front door. Second door on the left, next to the office.”
I collect my cane and move inside, the wood floors cool beneath my feet after the sun-warmed deck. Instead of going to the bathroom, though, I continue to the home office and sit on the small sofa inside.
Pulling my phone out, I unlock it and navigate to my contacts. Years in publishing have gifted me with connections across the country, including people who move between academic circles and who hear the whispers that never reach official channels.
I scroll through names, searching for someone who might give me more information about Carson Whitaker and who owes me favors or trusts my discretion.
My thumb hovers over a name I haven’t called in years, a former editor who now works in educational publishing, who knows the gossip from universities and private schools across three states.
I press the call button.
By the time a system acknowledges a problem, it’s often too late to prevent damage. I’ve learned this lesson through painful experience, watching my friend Chloe almost be sold off because she was too scared to advocate for herself.
Whatever is happening with Leif, whatever influence Carson Whitaker holds over him, silence will only protect the wrong people.
The phone rings once, twice, three times before connecting.
“Martin? It’s Grady Finch. I need a favor.”