22. Flint

“This isn’t what I was expecting.” Tony peered at my dad’s house as I drove up the driveway.

It’d been two weeks of him coming to the house each night and leaving the following morning. My poor heart was almost wrenched from my chest each day when he left.

What about me?my wolf complained. I hated it too.

I’d juggled work and put off questions from my family as to why he wasn’t at lunch the previous two Sundays. And there was an undercurrent of dissatisfaction in the pack stemming from Foley and his cohorts stirring up trouble. Foley had been canvassing the younger pack members, asking their opinion on how an Alpha was chosen. Emilio had a theory that was a ruse to get us thinking how we might reform, when the danger lurked elsewhere.

I tried to see Dad’s home from Tony’s eyes. He’d bought the land and the house after Papa died, when he’d wanted to shut himself off from the world. Whereas the grounds of my house were manicured and orderly, Dad’s were the opposite. Untamed was how I described it. The unwieldy trees, their fallen leaves forming a carpet covering the ground, dotted the acreage, along with tall grass, pockets of moss and mushrooms, shrubs, and a pond covered in water lilies with a little bridge over the top.

“Wow! This is magic. I like it much better than your place. How I would have loved to live here as a kid. Imagine the adventures you could have in this place.”

I experienced a pang of guilt, because while I hadn’t lived here, I did grow up in my current house, and I’d never considered myself lucky. It was just the way things were. I hadn’t asked Tony where he’d lived as a child and wondered if he’d wanted for anything. His omega dad was a single parent until he met the new guy.

I made a mental note to ask Emilio if Grandpa had helped out the family anonymously, saying the money came from the plant management.

Tony was right about the house not being what he expected. The grounds maybe ‘cause they showcased my dad’s personality, but the two-story house with its shutters and climbing pink roses reminding me of a chocolate box was more traditional.

There were two cars in the driveway, so we were the last to arrive.

Tony leaped out of the car, and Dad walked onto the porch. My mate hesitated. I understood why. Yes, we were mated and we fucked a lot and slept in the same bed, but we weren’t “mates.”

Dad hugged him, and they strolled into the house arm in arm. Hmmm. They’d met once, under less-than-pleasant circumstances, and now they were best friends? I was pleased, though I couldn’t fathom how they’d connected so quickly.

I brought in the wine and dessert to find Dad introducing Tony to my brothers. They hadn’t met formally, though they’d witnessed me introducing my mate to the pack. I was still seething over Foley and his power play, but we had no evidence he’d broken any pack law. I told Emilio I was willing to let it go as long as possible, hoping Foley would fuck up and basically put his head in the noose.

But for the next hour or so, business was not to be discussed; Dad forbade it.

“Is Uncle Arnie in the kitchen?”

Tony swung around, the color blanched from his cheeks. “Arnie from the club? That Arnie?” he whispered.

Dad mouthed, “You didn’t tell him.”

Fuck no. From the moment Tony was flung on the carpet, I’d made mistake after mistake. I could blame it on him, saying he’d distracted my head, my cock, and everything in between. But I was the boss and his now mate, and I had to take it on the chin.

“Mmmm. He’s a great cook.”

Tony shot me a venomous look, and I hated that I quaked a little. That was a new experience. My wolf was amused and settled down to enjoy the evening.

The man himself appeared from the kitchen in a cloud of steam, an old-fashioned apron wrapped around his waist.

“Tony, I’m so glad you joined the family.” Tony stared at me as Arnie enveloped him in a bear hug.

“Arnie is my great-uncle, my grandfather’s brother.”

“Thank you, Uncle Arnie. It’s so nice to see you again.”

My heart almost melted at my mate being so kind to my elderly relative. Our story, which had just begun, started with Tony and Arnie sorta. Or was it the day Anthony died? It was a little tangled and had almost severed in places, but here we all were.

We sat down to eat. Arnie had cooked the main meal while my brothers and I brought wine, salad, dessert, and bread rolls. Dad fluttered around. Cooking wasn’t his thing. He’d struggled in the kitchen in the years when mated to Papa. Arnie often saved his ass when he’d moved in with my parents after Grandpa was killed.

I thought about Dad’s relationship with my father and compared it to me and Tony. Dad was considered “the odd duck” by Father’s family. He blurted out what was in his head, he wore bright colors instead of the sedate black, brown, or gray.

At the first snow, he’d led me and my brothers outside to catch snowflakes. We’d open our mouths wide and stick our tongues out, jumping up and down and yelling when the first one melted on our tongue.

My father said Dad kept the embers alive in their relationship, tending them, making sure the spark never went out. Papa was the pack Alpha after my grandfather was killed. He walked the line, as I did, but Dad brought sparkles into his and our lives.

Tony was already the spark in my life, shining light on the shadows.

“Earth to Flint.” Hunter clicked his fingers in front of my face. “We wondered where you got to.”

“Just thinking about our childhood.”

“Oh,” my brothers yelled in unison. “Tony, we have so many stories to tell you about your mate.”

“Lies, all of it lies!”

I put my hands over Tony’s ears, but he flung them off and giggled. “I want to hear all of them. Was he a grumpy guts and a stickler for the rules?”

“How’d you guess?” Ranger served my mate a piece of pie, and we all tucked into the dessert. “And he hates mess.”

“Does that include crumbs in the bed?” Tony side-eyed me.

“Yes,” everyone yelled.

Tony’s spoon clattered to the floor. I should have caught it, but I was too busy shoving in tender, spicy apples, pastry, and ice cream. Dad handed my mate another spoon, but his outstretched hand froze as he studied Tony.

Everyone stopped eating, and my head snapped toward my mate. His cheeks, normally pink and perky that I kissed every chance I got, were ashen.

My wolf who’d been sleeping demanded I take him to the doctor.

“Hey.” I put my head close to my mate. “Something wrong?”

“I need fresh air.” He pushed the chair back, and it scraped over the wooden floor. “Sorry.” He flung himself out the closest door, with me at his heels. He gulped huge mouthfuls of air and a little color returned to his cheeks. While he rested his head on my chest, I rubbed circles over his back.

“Let’s go home and I’ll put you straight to bed.”

“Home,” he mumbled, his mouth on my sweater. “Where is that?”

We’d been living in limbo the last weeks while he got back into the routine of classes, assignments, and study. He’d fall into bed late, and we’d make love long into the night, leaving him little time to sleep.

Being a shifter, I needed less sleep than a human. My driver would take him to his place or campus the next morning. We’d compromised on a bodyguard who stayed outside his classrooms and kept a short distance from him as he made his way around college.

But every day he’d fire questions at me about the business.

“Do you traffic drugs?”

“No. I would never. My grandfather and father refused to touch the stuff.”

“Human trafficking or arms trafficking?”

“No.”

We made humans’ lives easier by fixing their problems and making them go away, and we washed the money through our casinos and other businesses.

“Home is where you are.” I kissed the top of his head.

“That’s what you always say.” He looked up at me. “Maybe I should start saying that too.”

“Don’t.” I pulled away but draped my arms around his shoulders. “Not if you don’t mean it.”

“I do. But we have to iron out some rules.”

“Like what? You have to put dirty clothes in the hamper?” I pulled him close again, picturing him in the house, our home. But I understood the meaning behind his words.

“No, your business. I’m still fuzzy on it.”

From the corner of my eye, I noted four heads poking around the doorway. Dad was waving frantically and miming something about his belly, or perhaps it was a basketball. Hunter was sticking a finger down his throat, and Ranger was rocking back and forth. Was he holding a doll or a cat?

“My family’s trying to tell me something.”

“We should go inside. They’ll think I’m rude,” he sighed.

We wandered arm and arm toward the house.

“What are you all staring at? Never seen a mated couple making plans for the future?”

“Do those plans include a baby?” Uncle Arnie asked.