CHAPTER THREE

CHAPTER THREE

JUSTIN

Justin sat in the middle seat on a plane headed to Wisconsin. He sat next to a large, fleshy man who didn't seem to know the elbows he kept swinging around actually belonged to him. The plane lingered on the runway for half an hour. No air was moving in the cabin. People started sweating, including Justin. He was breathing through his mouth, but the aroma was intense. More than once, he worried that he might have to rush for the toilets.

Maybe it was good that he hadn't eaten anything since late yesterday. Can't puke if your stomach is empty, right?

On second thought, that probably wasn't true. Either way, he had no desire to find out.

After having made them suffer enough to earn their way out of purgatory, the plane finally took off, and at least the air in the cabin was moving again. He watched out the window as the plane lifted off from Logan International and left Boston behind. He craned his neck, trying to spot Altaden on the Mystic River. But he couldn't see anything very well from the middle seat, and he couldn't tell the Mystic River from the Charles River from this angle.

Better to forget Altaden forever. He had to get used to having no pack now. He'd been booted out of the palace, not out of the pack—not technically—but how could he stay? The humiliation would be too much for anyone to endure. To have to remain there and endure being shunned and mocked—all the whispers behind his back, the knowing looks, or worse, the pitying looks.

He simply couldn't do it.

Justin was severing his ties, whether the king cared about Justin's oath of loyalty to the pack and the throne or not. He was leaving for good, without begging permission of the alpha king. It was his single act of defiance. He refused to stay and watch as his prince, the man with whom he'd fallen so deeply in love, married another.

Even now, that thought made his eyes burn with tears and settled a cold ache deep inside his chest. He blinked rapidly, not wanting to be found bawling in coach, squished between two human strangers.

He was on a one-way flight from Boston to Green Bay, Wisconsin, with a connection in Chicago, and was looking at almost five hours of travel. At least after making his connection, he had a window seat on the Chicago to Green Bay leg of the flight. After they finally landed in Green Bay, he endured the long, slow shuffle off the plane, making his way through the terminal toward the baggage claim.

His intestines were twisted up in knots—a genuinely horrible feeling. His wolf paced in his head with its tail tucked between its legs and ears down. Justin was stress-sweating so badly that his underarms felt like a swamp. A low-level dread shadowed him. It was a feeling he hadn't been able to escape, even flying hundreds of miles away and leaving his life behind for good.

Aunt Katie was supposed to be here to pick him up. He'd called her last night after his life crumbled to pieces and begged her to take him in for a while. Again. Because he'd lived on her farm as a teenager after his father passed away. With every word he spoke to her, the hotter the back of his neck burned and the more his voice shook.

It was shame that he felt. A long time ago, he'd left her and her dairy-cheese farm to head east. To find his "kind." His "people." Now he was crawling back, begging her to take him in again.

Aunt Katie promised she would meet him here today. She hadn't said much beyond that, which left him worried sick about the kind of greeting he would get. Scorn? Contempt? Disgust? And what would happen when he admitted he was pregnant?

He stopped on the walkway along the terminal, too panicked to keep going. Someone bumped into him from behind and staggered him.

"You don't have brake lights, buddy. Don't stop in the middle of the road," some stranger barked at him and brushed past.

Justin barely noticed. He forced himself to start walking again, but his movement was more akin to a zombie shuffle. He tried to focus on his breathing. Slow breaths. In and out. He needed to find some sense of calm, but his life had become a hurricane of turmoil in the last twenty-four hours.

And to think, only yesterday morning, he'd been eagerly planning a surprising and touching way to let Prince Richard know his mate was pregnant with his child. Life could turn on you like a rabid wolf. Justin hadn't fully appreciated that until now.

He located his baggage claim carousel wrap but didn't see or scent his aunt anywhere. Suitcases moved along on the conveyor. Dully, he stood there at the end, just before the conveyor took them into the back area again, watching for his battered suitcase. If the airline had lost his luggage, that was going to be the straw that broke the camel's back. He'd sit down and give up and live in the airport until somebody arrested him.

His suitcase finally appeared. He grabbed it, pulled the handle extension, and walked toward the doors, scanning for his aunt and growing terrified that she wasn't coming.

Sure, she'd promised she would be here, but she would definitely have second thoughts after all this time. He was trouble. Selfish. Weird. Unappreciative. Tainted. Cursed, maybe. Justin had no way to call her, either. He'd left behind the cell phone the palace had provided him. It was theirs, after all. He didn't want them chasing him, looking to take back some encrypted smartphone by force.

Suddenly, his Aunt Katie appeared in a crowd, moving against the flow of traffic, pushing her way through the people. She appeared frazzled, but she spotted him and immediately veered in his direction.

His aunt wore an unzipped Carhartt jacket, a flannel shirt, jeans, and work boots. She looked as if she'd just stepped off a farm—which she had. Sort of. She was a cheesemaker. There was a French word for it, but he couldn't remember it. She worked on a boutique gourmet cheese-producing farm with three cows. Bell. Nellie. And…he forgot the name of the third. Something with a "U." Ursula?

His aunt was in her late forties, with a pert nose, feisty hazel eyes, and brown hair streaked with gray. She didn't believe in dyeing it…and she didn't hold with makeup. "What do the cows care if I look fancy?" she would always say. The memory brought a tentative smile to his lips.

Aunt Katie was the only close family he had left. She was his father's younger sister. As he'd said, his aunt had raised him for a couple of years—or at least allowed him to stay at her farm until Justin turned eighteen and rushed off for the East Coast with stars in his eyes. Or maybe he should say "with moons in his eyes" and lean fully into the whole wolf-thing cliché.

He slowed to a stop as she hurried toward him. His heart was pounding, pounding. He could feel the pulse in his temple. It felt as if each beat shook his entire body. Wolf shifters had sensitive hearing, but right now, his ears were ringing, and it felt as if he could barely hear anything.

Would she hate him? Resent him? Make him feel even lower than he did now? That would be quite a feat. His inner wolf let out a plaintive whine.

Aunt Katie didn't slow down. She rushed to him and hugged him fiercely. Justin sobbed and clutched her back, knocking over his suitcase when he reached to embrace her. He closed his eyes tight because they burned and blurred with tears.

Finally, she moved back to hold him at arm's length and looked him over while he furiously blinked back tears. His view of her had gone all blurry and wavy, but now his inner wolf was yipping and bounding around with joy and relief so deep it was humbling.

She fixed him with that half-smile of hers, a twist of the lips that only turned up one side of her mouth. "Goddess, you smell like a locker room."

"I'm sorry." His throat clamped tight. He realized he was about to start bawling again right here in baggage claim. Erratic hormones were going to be the death of him yet. With pure willpower and a lot of blinking, he managed to hold back a fresh waterfall.

Aunt Katie looked at him. Really looked at him. Concern deepened in her eyes, and her brow knitted. She put a hand on his shoulder. "Come on. Let's get you home."

Home. The word cut deep, but it was also a comfort. He needed all he could get.

They left the terminal and crossed a seemingly endless parking lot jammed with vehicles. His aunt glanced at him apologetically. "Had to park a million miles away. So many people in the city."

"I know. Thank you. For coming, I mean. I don't mind walking."

She nodded, her scent still tense, concerned—no, worried.

Soon enough, they were on the road, taking I-41 out of Green Bay, heading south. His aunt's farm, playfully named Cheddar Wolf Farm, was a few miles outside Hartonford via several winding rural roads. Last time he'd been to Hartonford, the town held only a little over three-hundred souls and maybe sixty or so more in the surrounding area. Yet, Hartonford wasn't a one-stoplight town. They had three stoplights and were proud of it.

The ride gave them a chance to talk, and he knew his aunt had plenty of questions. She wasn't the type to pester him in public, but now that they were alone? He could feel those questions darkening the horizon like a thunderstorm.

Which was why he awkwardly tried to take the initiative. He wasn't avoiding things. Nope. Not at all. "So…how are the dogs?"

He knew she wouldn't suffer the distraction for long, but she did love those dogs. She owned seven dogs of various sizes—or she had the last time he'd talked with her on the phone. Had that been two years ago? And at Christmas, no less? Guilt swept through him again. He truly was a terrible person.

Aunt Katie glanced at him and then back at the road. She drove like a speed demon, pushing the truck at least ten miles over the speed limit. But that was nothing new. She'd always driven like a bat out of hell.

"Coco and Big Jake are fine. Getting a little older, but aren't we all? Pepper is as energetic as ever. Sadie secretly thinks she leads the pack. Bandit has more heart than brains. Yipper…has had some bad luck. And Joe passed away about six months ago. Kidney disease."

"Oh, God," he said, honestly shocked. "I'm so sorry."

"So was I. But he was old and tired. At the end there, he was almost blind and had arthritis. He mostly hung out on the porch in the sunlight. I'd sit with him a spell. He liked that." She glanced at him. "Oh, and I have a cat."

"A cat? You hate cats!"

"I figured I needed to be less prejudiced as I get on in life. Her name is Sweetie. She's a calico, and she's a killer." His aunt shot him a knowing look. "Rodents? Forget about it. She brings me special presents and leaves them on the back porch. Showing off, I imagine." She snorted. "Cats."

He still didn't know what to think of an actual honest-to-Goddess cat on his aunt's farm. Coco was a rat terrier…and a good one. He wondered if Sweetie was angling for Coco's title.

"I guess a lot has changed." He could hear the guilt in his voice. "How's the cheese business?"

"Good, actually. Been making a name for my cheeses. Specialty gourmet cheeses, don't you know. Better yet, they're organic, non-GMO cheeses from mostly pasture-fed cows. That's big on our label."

"Haven't your cheeses always been made that way?"

"Yep, but these days, it's a big selling point. I'm sure the stores that sell my stuff charge an arm and a leg for it. I've actually started selling online, direct to customers. Too bad the Hartonford post office is so rinky-dink. If there's ever any real volume, I'm sure they couldn't handle it."

"Are you still doing it all with no help?" He remembered well how much work it took to run her farm. Milking cows. Repairing things. Not to mention making cheese.

"The dogs help." She glanced at him again as she raced past a tractor-trailer. "Enough about me. What about you? What's going on? You're pregnant, aren't you?"

He gaped at her, paralyzed with shock and a flood of mixed emotions. Pride. Guilt. Worry. Determination. Inside his head, it was an absolute emotional tornado.

He finally managed to get himself back under some kind of control. "How did you know?"

She smirked. "A guess. You're part of the world's womb club—lucky you. So I figured it had to be something big to send you back to the creamery."

He closed his eyes against another flood of guilt which probably wouldn't be the last. He'd been such a selfish asshole. Never writing. Rarely calling. Sure, his aunt didn't have a computer or a smartphone, but she did have a landline, and he hadn't exactly been easy to keep track of, bouncing around the East Coast as he had.

"A guess…" he said quietly, rattled to hear it out loud. He was still shaken by all it implied after his life had changed so drastically in twenty-four hours.

"Yeah. Don't worry. I can't smell pregnancy hormones and all that yet. Obviously, you're early on. Who's the father?"

"You wouldn't believe me if I told you."

"Try me."

"Prince Richard Hargreave."

"You're right. I don't believe you."

That made him grin, at least. But he found he had no idea what to say next. Saying Richard's name out loud left him feeling empty inside. It brought all he'd lost into painfully sharp focus.

"How did it happen?" she pressed.

"Pretty much the usual way."

His aunt snorted. "Figured as much, smart ass. I mean, how on earth did you get involved with shifter royalty? I've heard of the Hargreave Pack, you know. Not good things, either."

"Richard's good."

"Then why are you here in Wisconsin, headed back to the farm?"

Justin shook his head. He stared out the window at the trees blurring past the road. He absentmindedly rubbed the center of his chest in a vain attempt to massage away the deep ache there.

His aunt wasn't about to let him off the hook. "Does he know?"

"He doesn't know. I was going to tell him. To surprise him…" But then Richard had cut him loose. Or the Goddess Herself kicked him to the curb. So much for Her holy claim to being The Mother Who Loves.

Maybe She just doesn't love you.

Yeah. Maybe she doesn't. Maybe being an omega was some kind of sin. But at least he would have Richard's love child. And none of them would ever know. At least he had one piece left of a time when he'd been happy. The Goddess couldn't take that away from him.

Or could She?

His aunt was staring at him hard. The truck started to pull to the right and onto the shoulder. His eyes widened, and he clutched the truck's "oh shit" handle in a death grip. She returned her attention to the road and edged the truck back between the lines, leaving his heart racing faster than the engine.

"You need to tell him, Justin. He has the right to know he's going to be a father. You don't want to live with the guilt of keeping that a secret. Your baby will need both—"

"No."

His blunt word cut her off. He caught her scent of surprise, almost shock. For a time, they drove on in silence. The only sound was the hum of tires on the asphalt and the rush of air through the vents.

"I'm your aunt," she finally continued, softer now. "I'm on your side. Talk to me."

"If they know, they'll take him from me. You know they will. No one gets in the way of an alpha king." He moved his hand to his belly. No trace of a bulge there yet. For now, he could pass for just another skinny, too-pretty guy with a questionably quirky fashion sense. For now, humans wouldn't know he was a wolf shifter, and they certainly wouldn't know he was a pregnant omega.

"Maybe you're right." His aunt ran a hand through her shoulder-length hair and then clasped it over her mouth for a moment as if trying to hold back the words. She shook her head, staring at the road ahead this time. "Yes…I didn't think of that. They aren't the same as everyone else. I've been away from pack politics for too long. I don't miss it."

He didn't say anything. He'd always believed Richard better than everyone else and still did, even after all this. But the king? He was a different creature entirely. Justin had always feared him.

"If the prince doesn't know," his aunt said, "does anyone know?"

"Only you. And my doctor, of course. But he isn't part of the pack. He's human."

She let out a shaky breath. "So they kicked you out of the pack? If they don't know you're pregnant, then why would they do that?"

"They didn't expel me. But I couldn't stay." His voice broke. "I…couldn't."

"Hon, I get it. Better than you might guess. But the way you're going about telling me this story? I think I'm more in the dark than when you started."

Where to begin? The morning when a woman in elaborate purple and black ceremonial robes appeared outside his apartment and announced that her prophetic dream revealed the mate the Goddess had chosen for him? How Justin had shut the door on the majinette dreamer, believing she was either drunk or a lunatic or both? Or the first time he'd seen Prince Richard Hargreave at the palace…and how unbelievably handsome the prince appeared to him? How the smile Richard gave him had won him from the first instant. It was a smile that had been reassuring and kind, while the look in the prince's green eyes had been both curious and intense. Or how they'd seemed perfect for each other, even all the ways they were opposites, and how everything seemed to come straight out of some impossible fairytale?

Sure, it hadn't all been rainbows and roses. The nobles hated him, and the gossip had been cruel, not only about his lack of wealth and his common blood, but about what he was—an omega wolf, a "man bitch," a "little girl with a penis," and other more vicious, disgusting, and cutting things. But Richard had put so much effort into accepting Justin and bringing him into his royal life, so much effort into loving him, that the malicious gossip hadn't destroyed Justin. It might have done so without Richard there, but Richard had relentlessly stood by Justin's side.

Until everything changed.

He explained most of it to her, starting slowly, haltingly, and then building momentum as words poured out of him that he'd kept tightly bottled up. Telling her how his entire life had changed the instant the majinette shared her dream vision of Justin as Prince Richard's mate. How he'd been pulled into a fairy tale world of luxury and power at Prince Richard's side. What would his dad say if he'd still been alive? Would he have been proud? Or his other father, the man who'd gotten his omega dad pregnant? Would that guy have stuck around if he'd known that an omega like Justin, born to two common-blood wolf shifters, would someday be the mate of an alpha king?

She listened until he ended with Richard's ambush in the garden and the moment he severed their relationship.

"So you're saying you weren't the prince's mate after all, and it was all some demonic political plot?" His aunt scowled at the road, making no bones about what she thought of that claim. "How'd they fuck that up so thoroughly?"

"All I know is what Richard told me." He shook his head, trying to remember the details. They were fuzzy, though. He only seemed to remember the emotions, the pain. He rubbed the bridge of his nose. "Something about Brin, the dreamer—that she was a…traitor or that she served the Devil She-Wolf or…something. Mostly I remember him telling me that I wasn't his mate. That it was over. I had nowhere to go, so I called you." He looked at her, unable to stop the tears from leaking out this time. "Thank you."

She seemed mildly embarrassed by his gratefulness. "You already thanked me, so don't carry on like that, repeating yourself. You know I think of you as my pup." She smirked and continued airily, "Even though you can't be bothered to call or write for years on end."

He closed his eyes and nodded. He already felt like hammered shit. A little chiding for not keeping in touch wouldn't sting much more, especially when it was deserved.

"You're having the child, then?" she continued, throwing him off guard. This conversation was as chaotic as his life right now. "Not giving it up?"

"The baby is mine."

He was no fool. It wouldn't be easy. Not for a second. His life would never be the same, and even though he grasped that in the abstract, he was wise enough to realize that he had little idea what being a parent was really like. Especially a single parent. His father had done it, and looking back with an adult's hindsight, he could see signs of his father's struggles. They'd moved often. Justin constantly switched schools, which left him always feeling like a stranger, an outsider. Being a wolf shifter and an omega certainly hadn't helped, but he'd had no one to talk to, either. They hadn't been part of a pack. His father warned him never to let the humans know he was a shifter. The two of them had kept that up for most of his childhood, moving every year or two. Different cities. Always big cities. Staying as anonymous as they could…

So, yeah, it wouldn't be easy for him or for his cub. But he could imagine a future where he was a good parent to a child. He would make a family, and he would provide love and care and work to support them. It would be a struggle, but there would be love to make up for it. He was determined to give his child his all, determined to make sure they grew up knowing they were special, that they were loved. And maybe even a low-born, common-blood nothing like him could be proud of something like that.

"Okay." His aunt nodded, still staring at the road, both hands clenched on the top of the wheel. "Okay. Got it. Then that's what we'll do."

He glanced at her, shocked into silence by the word "we."

She caught his stunned look and guessed the reason behind it. "Oh, you're welcome to stay at the farm. You and that little monkey-pup you're growing. Consider it your home for as long as you like."

He was utterly at a loss for words. What could you say to an offer so generous except thank you…again? The words escaped his lips barely above a whisper. He didn't like how trivial they sounded given her incredible generosity, opening up her home to him for the second time. Somehow he'd make it up to her. Somehow he'd make her proud. He'd show the world he wasn't simply some prince's cast-off omega, notable only for the womb inside him. And he'd do it by being the best parent he could be.

She waved off his thanks, again seeming almost embarrassed by it. Or by his unmanly tears. Come to think of it, he'd never seen his aunt cry in his entire life. He guessed she was just one of the eight billion people made of tougher stuff than him.

"I told you, don't bother with all that," she continued in her no-nonsense tone. "Life knocks us on our asses from time to time. I don't need thanks for doing what any good person would do, and I especially don't need it for a kid I helped raise. Besides, you can help me make cheese until you're too pregnant to do anything but waddle and complain."

He nodded, amused by the thought of waddling…but also a little horrified too. "All right," he said, taking a deep breath. "I can do that."

"There's something else, though." His aunt was concentrating on the road again and therefore starting to speed once more. "I have health insurance through a small business collective, but they aren't going to allow you on with a preexisting condition." Her brow furrowed as she glowered at a semi that dared block her. "Pregnancy counts as a preexisting condition. Hospital bills add up fast, and you can't exactly tell them to send the bill to this wolf prince."

"I'll take on the debt and pay it off myself. Or deal with the fallout. It's my problem. You're doing more than enough for me."

"I told you, never mind that. I have some money put away if it comes to that. But do you really believe they'll take the kid?" Her eyes were sharp. Dangerous. "I mean if they find out about it? Because you could go after him for child support or something. You don't have to do this completely alone."

"Richard wouldn't do something like that…" But how certain was he now? Two days ago, he would've staked his life on it. But after Richard cut him loose so easily, Justin had no idea what the prince would do when it came to their child.

"He ditched you," his aunt said matter-of-factly.

"The Goddess—"

"I know, Justin. The Goddess, blah, blah, blah. If you buy that nonsense, you need to believe She has trouble making up her mind, oh, like a typical woman. Sounds like something a man would make up. Dumb and patronizing."

"I don't know," he replied honestly. "About any of it. It was as much of a shock when they said I was some chosen mate as when they told me I wasn't. But I loved Richard. He's a good man."

"Powerful good men are always surrounded by bad men who love to believe they're doing what's necessary. I'm asking because I need to know if I should invest in something other than my rifle."

Her talk of guns alarmed him. It was deeply disheartening to think about getting weapons to defend against wolves from his old pack. He thought he might be sick to his stomach. As far as he knew, his aunt had never even owned a weapon.

"When did you buy a gun, Aunt Katie?"

"When a black bear showed up and mauled Yipper. I told you she'd had some bad luck. Bear chewed her up pretty good. It was Yipper's fault, most likely. Dog is as dumb as a rusty hammer, but she did love those chasing games. She recovered, sporting a few scars and none the wiser. She was out chasing a skunk last week. That being said, no one should mess with bears. Not even wolves. Especially not a lone wolf like yours truly. That's why I bought a rifle."

"Did you shoot the bear that hurt Yipper?"

"Shot at it once when it came sniffing around the farm. Probably smelled the trash. Missed, though. And maybe I missed on purpose, or maybe I'm a terrible shot. Sometimes I smell bears on the trails, though. I take the dog pack with me if I'm out past the fences." She shot him a hard glance. "Take all the dogs with you if you venture into the woods. Or the rifle, if you're so inclined."

"Right now, I'm happy sticking close to home and counting on my nose for early warning." He should be able to scent a bear nearby unless the wind was wrong. Besides, he'd never liked guns. He'd never touched one in his life.

Still, he was sorry to hear that Yipper had been attacked. She was such a sweet dog. A little too enthusiastic, maybe. And also not very bright. But she had a good heart. Personality-wise, she was a twin to Pepper, the Springer Spaniel, and that was why they had similar names.

"Something else to consider," his aunt said. "Do they know about the farm?"

He tried to remember what he'd told Richard about the times before he'd moved to New York City and from there to Boston. He was sure he'd kept it vague. He'd been…ashamed about his past. Bouncing around the country as a kid, then later, living on a farm. Some part of him had been afraid people would believe him a hick. Now he was ashamed to have felt that way about where he'd come from. His aunt deserved better from him. She was a far better person than any of the "nobles" he'd met at the palace.

"I probably mentioned it to Richard at some point, but, um, nothing specific. I'm sure people at the palace looked into my background." Probably that creepily calm spymaster, even though Justin's past was supposed to be left behind forever when he joined a wolf pack. "But dad moved around so much…" He shook his head, frowning. "I don't think they're going to chase me if they don't know about the baby. They wanted me gone, and I can't join another pack. They wouldn't come all the way here to harass me. They're shifter royalty. That's not how nobles do things."

"Yeah. Nobility. Always civilized. They'll drink fine wine and talk of horse breeding and have their thugs handle the dirty work."

The venom in her tone caught him by surprise. It didn't sound like ranting about some abstract thing. It sounded as if she spoke from experience.

There wasn't much space for deep conversation after that—or at least his aunt was lost in her own thoughts. For his part, he had more than enough to worry about.

They left the freeway and took a rural highway road to Hartonford. The town looked exactly the same as when he'd left it. It was eerie. The town was still tiny, out-of-date, and largely charmless. "Downtown" still consisted of a gas station, a feed store, a mini-market, two bars, a few scattered shops such as a hairdresser and Laundromat, and a dinky little post office.

"Hartonford's going to take some getting used to after living in a palace," she remarked as he rubbernecked, caught in the grip of powerful déjà vu.

"Yeah, but no complaints from me. I'm smart enough to know when I'm lucky to have someplace to go."

It didn't take long to put the town behind them and head out on the winding two-lane rural road to the farm. After a few miles, Aunt Katie turned onto the beginning of a dirt road blocked by a chained and padlocked gate. A chest-high rail fence ran along the road, and behind it grew a windbreak of aspen and birch trees. She stopped the truck and hopped out to unlock the gate. After unlocking the chain, she climbed back inside and drove through, and on the other side, repeated the steps.

"We need to get you an automatic gate," he advised when she was finally done.

"Maybe if my cheeses keep doing well. Right now, I'm focused on paying off the rest of the equipment."

Cheddar Wolf Farm was not gigantic. Past the windbreak of trees, a fenced-in pasture opened on the right for the cows. On the left side of the driveway, more trees grew, including some fir trees. The driveway curved around into a clearing. On the left sat a plain, two-story farmhouse painted a faded yellow with white trim. The house sat at an odd angle on the lot, facing southwest, so the front and back porches were visible as the driveway ended in a wide clearing of dirt and gravel. The clearing continued past the house on the right-hand side, past a barn where the cows were milked and the smaller cinderblock building where she made the cheese.

Everything was pretty much exactly as he remembered. Well, maybe a little faded and worn from last time. Then again, his aunt was living here alone and doing all the work herself. She didn't have time to stop and repaint the house for the hell of it.

Aunt Katie parked between the rear of the house and the barn. A pack of dogs came barreling out of a doggie door from the screened-in back porch. They barked wildly and wagged their tails like gangbusters. Meanwhile, a calico cat perched on the sloping porch overhang, watching the truck with big eyes and watching the baying dogs with undisguised contempt.

"Look at that," his aunt said. "The welcome wagon's here to greet us."

The dog pack gathered around the truck, still barking and sometimes whacking the side with their whipping tails. He grinned at their enthusiasm. Would they remember him?

He climbed out of the truck, careful not to hit anyone with the door. The dogs did indeed remember him. They jumped on him with unrestrained joy, licking his hands and face as he tried to pet them. It made him laugh. It made him feel good.

His aunt grabbed his suitcase from the back of the truck and stopped to take in the scene with a smirk. "Love at first sight. Now, c'mon. Let's get some food in you. You're too skinny. Do nobles not eat anything but caviar and casu marzu? Don't answer that. I don't want to know."

He followed her and the orbiting dog pack up the back porch steps. The cat eyed him disdainfully. She turned and showed him her ass, then jumped off the overhang and vanished.

"Welcome home," his aunt said after unlocking the back door and swinging it wide.

He stepped inside, once again feeling as if he might break down and start blubbering. He didn't, though, so that was good. He glanced around at the farmhouse kitchen, the old cabinets, the slate sink, and the small range. Past the kitchen was the living room with its plain furniture and old braided rugs. He glanced at the pictures on the wall. They were the same as they'd been years ago, some pictures of Justin, some of his father and his aunt as kids, some of the dogs. All the old scents of wax, spices, and wood made him feel another wave of déjà vu.

His emotions whip-sawed through him as chaotically as they had since he'd last seen Richard, but that was little surprise. In a way, it felt horrible to be here again, like a defeat, as if the last handful of years had been a failure and a waste. Mixed in was guilt for leaving so eagerly in the first place and for his arrogance in believing he would never return. He felt his fair share of shame that he'd fervently believed he was entitled to better than a small farm in the Wisconsin sticks.

Yet, it also felt like home, and that was a comfort. It felt more like home than any of his apartments and most definitely more so than the guest chambers in the palace. The house was rustic and simple. It smelled like dogs, the wood floors were scratched up by their claws, and there were a few cracks in the walls, but it was good.

Yes, this was home now, and he was deeply grateful. He might finally get back on his feet to face the future with a bit of pride and bravery, no matter how uncertain it might be.

This home would be a good place to raise a child. After losing so much, Justin couldn't ask for any more than that.