Epilogue
Cam
It was snowing like a bitch, but i peeked impatiently out the window, hoping to catch sight of movement down the driveway.
it was christmas day, and, despite the fact we had a two-week-old infant, i’d insisted on having the family over for at least cake and presents in the afternoon.
we hadn’t made it out to rocky ridge last night for the traditional carlyle christmas eve celebrations, and i’d be damned if i was going to miss celebrating with my family.
Not that I’d minded being at home with Wyatt and our baby girl.
The last two weeks had been a blur. I was exhausted, excited, and a total wreck of anxiety.
Every cry made me tense, and I had no idea what I was doing.
Cal was totally useless, and Aunt Caroline and Karla weren’t much good with infants.
Surprisingly, it was Vern and Burt who had been our rocks.
One or the other had been by every day. Maybe it was all the time they spent around baby animals, but the two men were big teddy bears with our precious girl.
I’d been reluctant to let them handle her at first—she seemed so small and fragile—but the first time she’d snuggled into Burt’s arms, I knew no harm would ever come to her, not while Papa Burt or Grandpa Vern were on duty.
“Relax,” Wyatt said from the sofa. “They’ll be here. The snow probably just slowed them down.”
“What if they got stuck in a ditch?” I let the curtain drop, striding for the door to grab my jacket. “I should go out and look for them—”
Wyatt rolled his eyes. “Cameron. Just sit down. Or put on a pot of coffee or something.”
“It’s really snowing,” I muttered, glancing back toward the window.
Wyatt shook his head, his dark hair swinging. I was surprised our baby didn’t protest being rocked—but maybe she was used to being jostled. She was sleeping pretty soundly.
“Your brothers know the roads around here like the back of their hands,” he assured me. “And they also know the weather.”
“What if—”
“And if they thought it was really so bad that they couldn’t get here safely, they wouldn’t have started out, and they would have called you or texted you to let you know by now.”
I pursed my lips. I hated that he was right, but I still couldn’t help but worry. It seemed like becoming a parent had given me the ability to see every possible danger in the world simultaneously. The world was suddenly very, very scary, in a way it hadn’t been before.
A howl went up outside, startling both Wyatt and me. I flew to the back door, yanking it open.
There, in the snow, was my family: Cody and Connor, who were back for Christmas break; Carter, who had flown in from the base; and my aunts as well. All of them were standing in the drifts, up to their forelegs, snow collecting in their fur. Connor gave me a lazy yawn, and Carter yipped.
Wyatt joined me at the door. “Hey guys,” he said, and our baby fussed in his arms, turning over.
“Get back inside,” I scolded. “It’s too cold out here for her.”
She crinkled her nose and gave a little coo, as though disagreeing with me.
I turned back to my relatives. “Hurry up and shift. It’s cold out here.”
Just as they were about to, Wyatt gave a yelp. We all jerked back to him, just in time to watch the newest member of the Carlyle pack complete her first shift.
She leapt from Wyatt’s arms, landing in the snow. She tripped and fell on her face first thing, not used to her legs at all.
My relatives went wild, howling and barking, yipping and jumping all over.
Cody and Connor started chasing each other in circles as my little girl wobbled her way over to meet them.
Aunt Caroline stood very still as the pup approached her first. They nosed at each other, before the pup headbutted her—recognizing her as family. Safe.
Karla sniffed her next, then headbutted her, knocking her into the snow, which she bit at, her bright eyes—hazel like Wyatt’s, even in her coyote fur—taking in the world around her.
Carter sniffed her next, then gave her a playful nip and darted off into the snow. With a tiny growl and a waggle of her tail, she gave clumsy chase, nearly buried under the snow as she dashed after her uncle.
I glanced at Wyatt, who smiled at me and nodded. Without further hesitation, I shifted into my fur, joining the fun.
It took me a moment, but I realized someone was missing.
I paused, looking toward Caroline, trying to telegraph my thoughts: Where’s Cal?
The crunch of tires over snow ended our play a second later. I snatched my pup up off the driveway, carrying her back to Wyatt. He took her with open arms. “You’re all wet,” he told her. “We’ll have to get you dried off—don’t want you to get chilly.”
She yipped and wagged her tail in reply. Then she turned her head curiously toward Cal’s F-150.
I frowned as I realized Cal was sitting in the passenger seat; someone else was driving. I couldn’t see who. The snow was really coming down now, so heavy it was hard to see even a few feet.
I glanced at my family. Did we need to hide? A pack of coyotes frolicking in the snow on someone’s driveway in the middle of the day was going to be tough to explain to some unassuming human resident of Coyote Creek.
Caroline didn’t seem afraid at all, though. Her amber gaze met mine, then flicked back to the vehicle. The passenger door swung open, and out stepped my eldest brother.
I looked between him and my aunt, who seemed to be smiling, a spark of amusement in her bright eyes.
“Hey,” Cal said, stopping a couple of strides short of us. He rocked on his heels.
I wanted to ask why the hell he wasn’t in his fur. Wasn’t like him to hop a ride when the rest of us were running around fully shifted.
And why the heck hadn’t he driven himself? And who the hell—
A tall, broad man with dark hair rounded the vehicle, tucking his keys into the pocket of his jacket. My breath caught as I recognized Tom, the new owner of the Orchard. He strode right up to Cal, bumping shoulders with him.
“Hey, Cam,” he said, lifting a hand as I stared at him.
“Hi, Tom,” Wyatt said from the doorway. I could practically feel the questioning hanging off him: Why are you here?
I almost shifted back right then and there, ready to bark questions at my brother. Why the heck was Tom here, and why the hell was my brother riding around with him? Letting him drive the truck?! That seemed like a bridge too far, even for Cal.
Cal seemed to sense my questions, shuffling his boots in the snow. Tom leaned closer—Christ on a cracker, he was tall, even taller than Cal, and how was I just noticing that now?—and almost murmured, “You wanna tell them, or you want me to handle it?”
Cal took a deep breath, as though fortifying himself. “I’ll tell them,” he said.
Tom clapped him on the shoulder, like some kind of encouragement.
“Can you tell us whatever it is inside?” Wyatt asked, already withdrawing. “It’s freezing out here, and I don’t want the baby to get cold.”
He hefted our pup, as though anyone could have forgotten her. Tom’s gaze shifted to her, lingering a little. Cal seemed to color up to his ears, and I felt my stomach knot.
“Yeah,” Cal said, “let’s get inside.” He made a beeline for the house.
Tom caught him easily, murmuring in his ear again, something that sounded like “You can’t put it off forever, Calvin.”
“I know,” Cal hissed back, then stomped up the stairs, brushing by Wyatt into the house. Tom followed, nodding to my mate.
Cal pointed to the truck. “Clothes are in the back,” he told my siblings and my aunts.
“Do you want me to get you a fresh set of clothes?” Wyatt asked.
I barked my agreement. The door banged shut. I looked back at my relatives, but they were all around the vehicle now, shifted back into their human forms, pulling on various articles of clothing.
“Hey!” Wyatt called, hanging out the door, waving a T-shirt in my direction. I darted for him, grabbing the clothes and dashing to the garage. I changed in record time, then dashed back through the snow, ignoring my bare feet.
Everyone was just settling in, cake and cups of coffee in hand. Cal was at the breakfast bar beside Tom, who was sitting there with his legs bowed, hands in his pockets. Cal was still rosy-cheeked, and I couldn’t help but grin.
Whatever my brother had to say, it was going to be good.