Chapter 15
YVAINE
After my friends and brother returned from ‘war,’ we all ended up at Mutton Belly, our local diner. Post-game tradition—or better, post-victory tradition.
“You were great, babe!” Tiziano hadn’t stopped hyping up Lachlan since the moment we sat down.
“You need to keep your head forward when you throw, Highlander.” My father, as usual, was ready to give his constructive criticism.
“And when you kick someone in the stomach, aim higher. That way, you break more ribs.” His gaze cut to me.
“Pay attention. Might come in handy, if that boy toy steps out of line.”
Now that everyone knew about me and Sillas starting to date, everyone had to have their say. Dad wasn’t thrilled, Tiziano and Makena gifted me Lunex, ‘the werewolf condoms you can actually feel,’ and Amaia suggested I check out Sillas’s family genes, just in case a pup happened.
We were halfway through our feast when the scent of heather plants—sweet and faintly herbal—crept up my nose. The whole table went quiet. All eyes darted to the door.
“Hello, my sweets!”
Mom was back. She was dressed head-to-toe in black leather and studs, her helmet tucked under her arm.
Next to her stood a smirking Uncle Andrew.
Typical Mom, appearing like this with no warning. She had been a wereball captain back in her Scottish pack, absolutely ruthless at our age. The women’s league? Just as bloody and brutal as the men’s. Maybe worse.
“Husband.” She nodded at Dad, excluding him from the ‘sweets’ nickname.
Dad bolted up so fast, his chair was knocked to the floor. “Wife.”
His jaw flexed, nostrils flared like a bull about to charge.
“Andrew,” he added as an afterthought.
“Hello, Richy-Rich,” Uncle Andrew slurred.
Dad exhaled sharply. “Why didn’t you tell me you were coming back today? I could’ve picked you up.”
Mom shrugged, already ruffling Lachlan’s hair. “Because I didn’t come back today. We landed last night.”
Electricity crackled in the air. Incoming fireworks.
“I wasn’t going to miss my pup’s game,” she cooed, kissing Lachlan’s cheek. “Oh, honeybee, next time you kick, aim higher. More ribs.”
My father pinched the bridge of his nose.
I bit my lip to hide my smile. Of course she’d parrot Dad’s exact advice. She knew what she was talking about.
Dad prowled toward her, his silver rings catching the light. Looming over her, he glowered, “So you were at the game.”
She placed her hands on her hips, her chin tilting another notch. “I was. Got a problem with that?”
“Hell yeah.”
And just like that, he scooped her up and carried her toward the exit while the whole diner watched.
“If you’ll excuse us,” he called over his shoulder, “my wife and I need to discuss her behavior.”
Mom just laughed and wrapped her arms around his neck, utterly unfazed.
“Put the bill on Andrew’s tab!” Dad yelled at the waitress.
Uncle Andrew rolled his eyes so dramatically that they vanished into the back of his head, but
Lachlan and I barely blinked. We’d grown up with Teen Wolf: Married Edition.
“I haven’t missed you either, brother-in-moon!” Uncle Andrew shouted after them.
Andrew and Dad didn’t get along at all back when Dad first chased Mom across the Highlands, trying to convince her to move to Montana as his Luna, a pack’s female leader. Things didn’t get much better through the years.
“I hope I’m still like that after twenty years of marriage.” Tiziano sighed dreamily.
Lachlan patted him on the head. “First, you need a mate.”
Tiziano swatted my brother’s hand away. “Please! If I wanted a creature to follow me everywhere, I’d get a puppy. I’d prefer a non-mate, with a little pain…and some psychopathic traits. I just think it’s cute your parents are still so passionate.”
“They’re too much, believe me.” My twin winced, and before I could comment on that, oxygen vanished from my lungs. My uncle’s bear hugs were infamous, spine-aligning, and a big part of my childhood.
“Hi, Uncle! Missed you!” I grinned, hugging him back. “How are the chiefs?”
“They’re mad because you haven’t visited in years!”
“I was there six months ago!”
I visited my Scottish grandparents twice a year.
“Exactly.”
Then he turned to Lachlan and gave him the same chiropractic embrace.
My shoulders dropped from my ears, warmth unfurling in my chest as I relaxed with my family.
We ate, laughed, and traded stories. Uncle Andrew complimented Lachlan on how much he had improved his ‘catapults,’ then explained how he and Mom had been forced to mask their scents at the arena so Dad wouldn’t go full berserk mode.
From time to time, those two still teamed up just to irk him. Like old times.
“So,” Uncle Andrew said between mouthfuls of pork and gravy, “I hear you’re dating, niece.”
Here we go again.
Privacy, in our family, was as mythical as a unicorn. When Sillas was my NMWB, nobody cared. The moment I decided to grab a drink with him? Tabloid news.
“Who’s the probable dead wolf? Does he play wereball?” According to him, a wolf who didn’t play wereball wasn’t good enough.
“It’s just Sillas Wilder, Uncle.”
“Yeah, she likes a Lucien from Dark Diamond more,” Amaia piped up.
The table went dead silent.
I knew I shouldn’t have told Amaia anything.
“We’re just phone friends!” I held up my hands as if to fend off the conversation. “And he’s clearly not on their main wereball team, since none of you know him. So chill. Nothing to worry about.”
Tiziano slammed his palm onto the table. Amaia startled.
“He’s from Dark Diamond?” he yelled. “You conveniently left that part out when you brought him up!”
“Does he know that you’re my sister?” Lachlan joined the tips of his fingers together. Although he appeared calm on the outside, I knew he was brewing with fury on the inside.
I pinched the bridge of my nose, very much like Dad had earlier. “No, he’s never mentioned your name.”
And I’m not going to tell him.
“Ordering you a new phone now!” Tiziano barked, waving his screen in front of me, an page showing a list of phones on it.
“This smells like tuna. Why the hell would he talk to a girl he’s never met?” Lachlan added. “Either he’s Dark Diamond’s greatest virgin nerd, or he’s plotting something.”
“The phrase is, ‘It’s fishy,’” Amaia corrected.
“We’re kind of like online pen pals,” I joked.
Nobody laughed.
“What does he even do if he doesn’t play wereball? Don’t tell me he plays that sport for humans! You know?” Uncle Andrew stabbed his pork chop and pointed it at Lachlan. “The one where they make you chase a ball for ninety minutes?”
“Soccer,” Amaia said flatly.
“And you, Amaia?” Uncle Andrew turned to her with a grin, letting me off the hook for the time being. “Found yourself a hot surgeon yet?”
“No one’s smart enough for our girl here.” Lachlan’s lips curved into a smile as he slung an arm around her shoulders.
Is she blushing?
I blinked. Is he blushing?!
Not my business. I trusted them with their decisions.
“Nah, I don’t have the time.” Amaia looked away, focusing very hard on her stew. Which she had already finished.
As the conversation flew by—with Tiziano yacking on about his new war plan for the wereball game against the DDs in two months—wine and cider flowed freely in the overcrowded diner, and roasted ham and mashed potatoes and cakes were devoured without reservation.
A food coma was inevitable.
Bunny Doc! How are you this morning? Heard your pack won against those Crooked Claws losers. Should I congratulate you for stealing candy from a pack of pups, or scold you?
A laugh bubbled up from my throat before I groaned.
My entire body hurt. I could name every muscle that ached, and I was embarrassed by the whimper that escaped my chest when I propped myself up on an elbow to check my brain-shaped alarm clock. 5:18 a.m.
Running with Dad had turned into a full-blown workout.
I had to admit the sad reality: I, Yvaine of Comet—future neurologist, rational thinker, and sworn enemy of social stereotypes—had become one of those creatures whose first act upon waking was to check their phone.
Another big yawn came, half interrupted by another groan for my burning abs.
I still had time before my day kicked in, with two late classes that afternoon.
After lazily stretching my arms in a way more cat-like than wolf-like, I decided to make breakfast for all my roommates and neighbors. All still asleep.
Zeus was nowhere to be seen, likely bullying squirrels again.
Slipping on my fluffy slippers, a sharp sting lanced up my thighs, and I headed for my usual ice bath.
I sat on the closed toilet lid and undressed, but my sweater got stuck over my head. Once I finally yanked it off, I tossed it across the room by mistake. It snagged on the frame next to the mirror—a small square with the tenth PET scan of Ian’s cancer.
Sighing, I massaged my chest clockwise. The strange ache above my left breast had come and gone four times in the past three days.
It had even woken me up last night, short-lived but bad enough to leave me with tears in my eyes.
I’d already booked a mammogram and a pancreas scan, an underestimated organ.
Tiziano kept saying maybe I’d crossed paths with my mate and that he was cheating, consciously or not.
But that made zero sense.
“I would’ve smelled my mate,” I hissed out loud as I immersed myself in the ice bath. My hands gripped the wooden rim, pins and needles attacking my feet first.
When a mate cheated, you would feel the same amount of pain, no matter the how. The Moon Goddess apparently ranked a kiss just as high on the betrayal scale as full-on sex. Honestly? I thought she had a point. Once your mate chose someone else, the how didn’t really matter anymore.
Back straight, jaw tight, I endured the ice bath, breathing through the discomfort like I breathed through life. Staying put in the uncomfortable.