Chapter 21 Imani
IMANI
The afternoon passes in a blur of warmth and laughter and the kind of belonging I’ve only ever dreamed about.
Mother Lenora has me stationed at her kitchen counter, rolling out dough for brown sugar pecan rolls while she bustles around checking on three different pots. Tolin tried to help earlier but she shooed him out after he nearly knocked over a pan of rising bread.
“He was always clumsy in the kitchen,” she says, catching me smiling at the memory. “Even as a cub. Ronan was the same way. The two of them together were a disaster.”
“I can imagine.”
“No, you really can’t.” She wipes her hands on her apron and leans against the counter beside me. “Those two were always at each other’s throats. Competing over everything. Who could climb the highest tree. Who could catch the biggest fish. Who could shift the fastest.”
“Who usually won?”
“Depended on the day. Ronan is older, bigger, but Tolin...” She shakes her head with a fond smile. “That boy has always had an alpha spirit. Even when he was small, he wanted to lead. Wanted to be in charge. He’d boss around cubs twice his size and somehow they’d listen.”
I glance toward the window where I can see Tolin outside, helping some clan members set up for the ceremony. He’s carrying a log that would take three normal men to lift, his breath fogging in the cold air.
“He wanted to be Alpha,” I say quietly.
“More than anything.” Mother Lenora’s voice softens. “From the time he could walk, that’s all he talked about. He’d tell anyone who listened that he was going to lead the Ironwood Clan one day. That he was going to be the best Alpha we’d ever had.”
“But Ronan is the firstborn.”
“Yes. And in our clan, the firstborn son inherits the Alpha position unless someone challenges and wins.” She sighs.
“I always knew Tolin’s place was as Beta.
He has the strength for it, the loyalty, the protective instincts.
But he couldn’t accept it. Couldn’t accept being second when he’d spent his whole life believing he was meant to be first.”
“So he challenged Ronan.”
“So he challenged Ronan.” She’s quiet for a moment. “It nearly destroyed both of them. Ronan didn’t want to fight his brother. But when an Alpha is challenged, he has no choice. He has to answer or lose everything.”
“And Tolin lost.”
“Tolin lost. And instead of accepting the Beta position, accepting that he could still serve the clan, still be part of the family, he walked away.” Her eyes are distant, lost in memory.
“Five years. Five years of watching my son deliver wood like a stranger instead of walking through my front door. Five years of waiting for him to come home.”
I set down the rolling pin and turn to face her fully. “He’s stubborn.”
“He’s proud. Too proud for his own good.” She looks at me then, really looks, and her expression shifts to something warm and grateful. “But you’ve changed him. I can see it. He’s softer now. More open. You’ve given him something to care about besides his wounded pride.”
“I just wanted him to stop being an asshole.”
She laughs, the sound bright and surprised. “Well, you’ve certainly accomplished that.”
We don’t talk much as we work. The kitchen smells like baking brown sugar pecan rolls and roasting meat.
Outside, clan members are preparing for the ceremony.
They’re hanging strings of lights between trees, decorating a massive evergreen with carved wooden ornaments.
Children throw snowballs while their parents yell half-hearted warnings.
It’s everything I never had.
“Imani.”
I look up to find Mother Lenora watching me with a knowing expression.
“Tell me about your family,” she says gently.
The question lands harder than it should. I focus on the dough, pressing it flat, avoiding her eyes.
“There’s not much to tell. I grew up in foster care. Moved around a lot. Never stayed anywhere long enough to call it home.”
“No parents? No siblings?”
“My mother left me at a fire station when I was three days old. I don’t know anything about my father.” I’ve told this story so many times it doesn’t hurt anymore. Or at least, I’ve convinced myself it doesn’t. “I aged out of the system at eighteen. Been on my own ever since.”
Mother Lenora is quiet for a long moment. Then she reaches over and takes my hands, flour and all, holding them close.
“Look at me, sweet girl.”
I look up. Her eyes are fierce, burning with an intensity that takes me by surprise.
“You have family now,” she says. “This clan. This cabin. Everyone you’ll meet tonight. They’re yours. We’re yours.” She squeezes my hands. “You belong here, Imani. Don’t ever doubt that.”
My eyes are burning. I blink rapidly, trying to keep the tears at bay. “I don’t know what to say.”
“You don’t have to say anything.” She releases my hands and turns to rummage in a drawer behind her. “But you do have to accept this.”
She pulls out a small wooden box, worn with age, and opens it. Inside, nestled on faded velvet, is a silver bracelet. Delicate chain links connected by tiny charms shaped like bear claws.
“Every mated woman in Ironwood wears one,” she says, lifting it from the box. “My mother gave me mine when I mated Tolin’s father. Her mother gave her one when she mated. It goes back generations.”
“Mother Lenora, I can’t—“
“You can and you will.” She takes my wrist and clasps the bracelet around it. The silver is warm from being stored near the stove, and the little bear claws catch the light as I move my arm. “You’re family now, Imani. This is what family does.”
The tears spill over. I can’t stop them. Years of loneliness, years of wanting, years of believing I would never have this, and now here I am standing in a warm kitchen with flour on my hands and a mother’s bracelet on my wrist.
Mother Lenora pulls me into a hug, and I let myself cry against her shoulder. She doesn’t say anything, just holds me, one hand stroking my hair like I’m a child who needs comforting.
Maybe I am. Maybe I always have been.
When I finally pull back, wiping my eyes, she’s smiling.
“Now,” she says briskly, handing me a dish towel. “Enough of that. We have a ceremony to prepare for and you’re going to ruin my pecan rolls with all that salt water.”
I laugh, wet and shaky, and get back to work.
A knock at the door interrupts us an hour later. Mother Lenora calls out “Come in!” without looking up from the pot she’s stirring.
Ronan steps inside, ducking his head under the doorframe. His eyes sweep the room, taking in the domestic scene, lingering for a moment on me working beside his mother.
“Smells good,” he says.
“Sit down.” Mother Lenora points to the chair at the kitchen table. “You’re staying for dinner before the ceremony.”
It’s not a question.
Ronan sits. Tolin comes in from outside a moment later, stamping snow off his boots, and takes the chair beside his brother. For a moment it’s awkward. The two of them side by side at their mother’s table.
Then I look up from the vegetables I’m chopping and smile at Ronan.
“Do you want to help?” I ask.
Ronan blinks, clearly not expecting the invitation. “I don’t cook.”
“Neither did Tolin until recently. You can learn.”
Mother Lenora laughs. Ronan looks at Tolin like he’s asking for help. Tolin just shrugs.
“She’s bossy,” he offers.
“I am not bossy,” I protest. “I’m encouraging.”
“Same thing.”
I throw a piece of carrot at his head. He catches it and eats it, grinning.
Ronan is watching us with an expression I can’t quite read. Envy, maybe. Or longing. He wants what we have. A mate. A partner.
I hope he finds her. He deserves that.
Dinner comes together in a chaos of laughter and bickering and Mother Lenora shouting instructions. Ronan ends up peeling potatoes while I direct him like a drill sergeant. Tolin mostly stays out of the way, content to watch us all orbit around each other.
When the food is finally on the table, we eat like we’re starving. Mother Lenora made enough for twenty people, and between the four of us, we make a significant dent.
Afterward, Mother Lenora and I start to stand, reaching for the dirty dishes.
“Don’t touch those.”
We both freeze at Tolin’s voice.
“Tolin,” I start.
“You cooked. You’re not cleaning.” He stands, taking the plates from my hands. “Sit down.”
Ronan rises too, backing him up. “He’s right. We’ve got this.”
Mother Lenora and I exchange a loaded look, something I can’t quite name. But we sit back down without arguing.
The brothers don’t talk as they clean up, one washing, one drying. From the table, I watch them. They look so much alike. And there’s so much I don’t know about what’s happened between them.
“They used to do this as cubs,” Mother Lenora says quietly. “Fight over who got to wash and who had to dry.”
“Before the challenge?”
“Before everything.” Her voice is soft. “They were so close once. Best friends as much as brothers. The challenge broke something between them that I wasn’t sure could ever be fixed.”
I watch Ronan hand Tolin a dish to dry, watch Tolin take it without looking, their movements synchronized from years of practice even after years apart.
“Maybe it can be,” I say.
Mother Lenora squeezes my hand. “Maybe it can.”
When the dishes are done, Ronan dries his hands and turns to Tolin.
“She fits,” he says quietly. “With the clan. With the family. With you.”
Tolin doesn’t say anything. Just nods.
“I’m glad you found her.” Ronan pauses. “I mean it.”
“You’ll find yours,” Tolin says. “She’s out there.”
“Maybe.” Ronan’s expression tenses briefly, then relaxes. “Until then, I’ll just keep fixing cars and scaring off your mate’s terrible coworkers.”
Tolin huffs out a laugh. “Derrick’s not that bad.”
“Derrick has a crush on your woman.”
“I’m aware.”
“And you haven’t killed him?”
“Imani won’t let me.”
Ronan grins, and for a moment it’s like the past five years never happened. They’re just brothers again, giving each other shit at their mother’s sink.