Epilogue
The door creaked as she eased it shut. She had a plastic bag full of plastic containers of dinner. Usually, they ate at the table on the nights they were all home, but the boys were out by the shop tonight, working on Bay’s new truck. Well, the truck wasn’t new, but it was new to Bay.
He’d saved money mowing yards for Breah’s dad’s landscaping company, and Tru and Tabian had covered half for a little single-cab ford for his seventeenth birthday.
Immediately, Bay and Tabian had gone to modifying it. Of course.
Tonight they were installing a camper shell on it, and some shelving on the interior. He would have a camping rig in no time.
Rogue Pack territory was home now. She’d broken the lease on their little two-bedroom rental house in Coeur d’Alene, and they had moved in with Tabian six months ago.
Best decision ever. Bay was thriving under her and Tabian’s care, and in the heart of the Pack.
That saying ‘it takes a village to raise a child’?
It was sure true for Bay. The more adult werewolves he had to guide him, the better he did.
Tabian was the most important to him though. Their bond was something she cherished.
Before she even rounded the corner of the house, she could hear them talking. The sun was setting, and the first flash of fireflies could be seen in the woods.
Tru paused in the middle of the yard, watching them. Tabian and Bay were both under the hood of the new truck, fixing something. Already, the truck had the shell on the back. They must’ve found something else to fiddle with now.
They would be out here all night if she didn’t call them in, and that was okay.
She was good with having dinner out here tonight.
The weather was too pretty to be inside, and that sunset in the sky was something to behold.
Across the clearing, she could make out Liam and Nory sitting on their porch, watching it together.
Behind their house, Bridger was on his porch, leaning against the railing, watching the sunset too. She lifted a hand and waved to him.
He nodded and waved back. She pointed to the bag of food. “You hungry?” she asked at normal volume. He would hear it. Bridger’s werewolf senses were insane, she’d learned.
“I’m good,” he called. “Thanks though.”
She smiled and nodded, then made her way toward the boys, who were looking over at her now.
“Hey pretty girl,” Tabian crooned as she approached. He met her near the camp chair they’d set up for her to sit in while they were working on trucks or packing for trips. He cupped the swell of her belly and asked, “How are you two?”
Oh, he was a very tough man, and short and clipped with most people, but he was different with her. He turned soft and gentle.
He loved her little baby belly. He as always touching it, or resting his hands on it, or feeling for the baby to move. They’d just found out she was having a boy.
All boys. She would be surrounded.
She absolutely loved it.
“We’ll be better when we get second dinner in us,” she assured him.
“He’s hungry today.”
“Like his dad,” she said with a smirk.
He leaned in and nipped her neck, then kissed her lips. “What did you bring us?”
“Spaghetti and meatballs.”
“With garlic toast?” Bay asked. “I’m starving.” He grabbed the bag from her hands and set it on the ground, started digging containers out. He cracked open an orange soda and chugged it immediately.
“Bay,” she griped. “I only brought you one.”
“I was thirsty.” He pulled out his container and the foil wrapped loaf of garlic bread.
“Dude, don’t eat it all,” Tabian griped as Bay started unwrapping the entire loaf.
“I’ll save you a piece. Maybe.”
Tabian snorted. “Tru will tan your hide if you don’t save some for her.”
Bay couldn’t talk on account of his entire mouth being full of the giant bite he took off the end of the loaf.
He was scrambling to open the container of spaghetti now.
He probably wouldn’t say another word until he was full.
Feeding teenage werewolves was a wild experience.
He ate the portions of a family of four, and so did Tabian. She had to cook everything in bulk.
She loved it.
She loved everything about this life.
“Tabian,” Bridger called.
Tabian jerked his attention behind them at Bridger, and then his eyes went directly to the road.
They’d had music playing on a portable speaker, and he turned it off and narrowed his eyes at the car that crested the hill into the clearing.
Tru froze. She knew that car. She knew that blue mustang with the white racing stripes. She recognized the sound of the engine now that it was closer.
Chills of dread rippled up her forearms, and she took a step back. “What is he doing here?”
Bay stood slowly, his eyes locked on the advancing car that was making its way toward them. “I don’t know.”
“Zane?” Tabian guessed. His voice didn’t even sound like him. It was all grit and gravel.
Bay glanced at Tabian and backed up to stand next to him as the car came to a stop in front of them. The lights turned off and the engine cut and out stepped the man she had grown to hate the most.
He looked like himself, just a few pounds lighter maybe, and his beard was longer. His eyes were bright gold, like Bay’s.
“It took me a minute to find you,” Zane said in a growly voice.
His eyes dashed to Tru, and instinctively she wrapped her arms protectively across the swell of her stomach.
“You look good, Tru.”
“Don’t talk to her,” Bay growled. He and Tabian were already moving closer to her.
“I figured you would be sore with me, boy,” Zane said in a chipper voice. “I’ve been doing some thinking. Been doing some growing.”
“Lie,” Tabian and Bay both said in unison.
Tabian narrowed his eyes. “What do you want?”
“I came to pick my boy up.”
“Your boy?” Tru gritted out, rage slowly simmering up her spine.
“I’m not your boy,” Bay said. “I don’t even know you.” The coldness in his voice chilled the clearing.
“Well, you can say whatever you want, but I’m your father, and I’m ready to take you on. I’ve got a new Pack now and they’re ready to meet you.”
“What do you really want?” Tabian asked suspiciously.
“I told you—”
“Enough!” Tabian yelled, his voice echoing through the clearing. “You can see him. He doesn’t want anything to do with you. It’s written on his face. When was the last time you sent him a message?”
“Well—”
“When?” Tabian barked. “I’m asking simple questions. I don’t want fucking excuses, give me short answers. When?”
Zane looked pissed. He blew out a breath and shook his head. “Well, I don’t know the exact date.”
“March twelfth,” Bay said blandly. “Marissa’s last text was May sixth. Two years ago.”
“Don’t call her Marissa. She’s your mom. You call her mom.”
“No, that’s Mom,” he said, pointing to Tru. He pointed to Tabian. “Dad.” He pointed to Tru’s belly. “Baby brother.” His face ticked into a snarl. “You don’t want me back. Not really. You are here for a reason, so spill it and stop wasting our time.”
Zane inhaled deeply. His nostrils flared with the movement. “I’ve been told about your little outdoor channel. People say it’s doing well. People say it makes a lot of money.”
“And?” Tabian snarled.
“And maybe for a little…relief…I would be willing to let Bay stay here.”
“Ha.” Tabian’s laugh echoed through the clearing. He approached Zane slowly, and God, the air felt heavy with Tabian’s fury. “You want money to leave Bay alone? What a disappointing piece of shit you are. He’s a kid. He’ll never forget you tried to trade him for money.”
“You’ve brainwashed my boy—”
“That’s my boy. You didn’t take care of him. I do!”
“Plus you signed away your parenting rights to Tru,” Bay pointed out.
“And I can un-sign them. You don’t think I will yank you right back into court, boy?”
“And spend all that money on lawyers knowing you will lose? No. I don’t think you will do that.”
“Boy, you think you’re grown now—”
“I’m grown enough!” Bay yelled, and the rage in his voice echoed through the clearing. He glanced back at Tabian. “I want the fight.”
Tabian nodded immediately, like he’d expected Bay to say that. “Tru, go inside,” Tabian said over his shoulder.
“You don’t want to fight me boy. Once you do that, you can never undo the damage. I will hurt you,” Zane said. He jammed a finger at Tru, who was backing away at Tabian’s request. “You stay right where you are. I’m not here to fight.”
Tru had gotten used to the way werewolves policed themselves though.
She wasn’t one to stop men from setting boundaries here.
“This isn’t your territory, Zane. You don’t make the rules here.
” She nodded at her boys and started making her way toward the house.
Bridger had appeared and was standing by Bay’s truck, leaning on it like he’d been here all along.
He tipped his head in a greeting as she walked by.
“I want to show you something Bay has built,” Tabian said, his voice loud and clear.
“Uh, his truck. H-happy birthday. It’s today, right? I was thinking about buying you a truck too—”
“My birthday was last week,” Bay snapped. “He’s talking about my wolf. That’s what I’ve built. Change or leave.”
Tru hesitated in the yard. Wait, what? She’d thought Bay had been talking about a fist fight, but he was removing his shirt.
Her momma instincts wrenched up. He was only seventeen, and she’d heard about Zane’s wolf. He was big and brutal and could hurt Bay.
She stepped forward, but Tabian jerked his attention to her and shook his head. She could see it in his eyes. Let him. This is his fight.
Her emotions grew overwhelming. The others were coming. She could see Liam and some of the Pack jogging across the clearing toward Bay.
They wore somber expressions, but not worried ones.
This was the hard part—letting the werewolves be werewolves and not clinging too tightly to Bay.
“Change or leave!” Bay barked out.
“It’s really like that, boy?” Zane growled.