Chapter 11

CHAPTER ELEVEN

B y the time Wren showed up at her childhood home, Raven was in full on hostess mode. There were streamers hung along one wall of the living room along with a plastic banner proclaiming it was time to party. There were even a couple of balloons floating around the ceiling and a bouquet of flowers sat in the middle of the coffee table. Wren paused long enough to read the card beside the flowers, noting her sister had signed her name for her, and then she continued into the kitchen.

Just as she'd expected, Raven was at the stove stirring a pot and chattering about her day while their mother sat placidly at the kitchen table, a small smile on her otherwise blank face. Their father was nowhere to be seen.

Wren took a deep breath for strength. She hadn't even bothered to hope that their mother would go easy on the pills today so that she'd be coherent enough to understand the effort her youngest daughter made for her. She'd given up hope a long time ago when it came to their mother beating her addiction to the mind-numbing meds the doctors had prescribed after Lark's death. Still, she was infuriated on Raven's behalf because her younger sister always tried so hard and their parents couldn't give her even a shred of recognition or appreciation.

"Wren!" Raven turned, a wide grin plastered on her face, "There you are!"

"Sorry I'm late." She moved to drop her bag on the window seat and leaned down to kiss her mother's cheek, "Happy birthday, Mom."

Her response was slow even by her usual standards but Mavis Culvert raised her head enough to blink, "Where've you been, Wren? Your sister has been cooking for hours."

"Work." Wren bristled at the question. "Where's Dad?"

"He ran to the store for… something." Her mother looked thoughtful and Wren shot a glance at her sister whose tight smile confirmed her assumption.

Beer. He'd run out to get more beer which would have annoyed her even if she believed he'd actually run out, but she didn't. He kept the fridge well-stocked with thirty-packs and he had an in-case-of-emergency six-pack in the mini-fridge at the back of the garage. He hadn't needed to run out and get more beer but he'd said he did so he wouldn't be stuck sitting around the house where his well-meaning youngest daughter might actually expect him to maintain a conversation.

Raven only turned her smile up another wattage, "Wren, could you get the serving spoons for me? This is almost ready to be tabled."

"Sure." She squeezed past her sister in the small kitchen and pulled open the drawer that had always held the serving utensils. "How many do you need?"

"A spoon for the corn, another for the mashed potatoes, and a fork for the turkey should be good."

"Turkey?" Wren raised an eyebrow. "You cooked a whole damn turkey?"

"It's what Mom requested." Raven shrugged one shoulder and Wren rolled her eyes.

"I'm pretty sure she wouldn't know the difference between store-bought sandwich turkey and the real thing at this point."

"Don't start." Raven pursed her lips, "I like to cook and I don't get to do it enough for the people I love."

"Okay. Sorry I mentioned it."

"It's fine, just put the utensils on the table and then grab the iced tea out of the fridge for me." She turned back towards where their mother sat silently at the table. "It's almost ready, Mom."

"Well, we can't eat until your father gets back so you may as well…"

"I'm back." The door that led from the garage swung open and they all turned to watch as Cona Culvert pushed into the room.

Wren bit her tongue when she noticed the open thirty-pack of his favorite cheap beer in one hand and an open can in the other. He couldn't even wait until he got home from the store to crack one open. That, or, he'd been in the garage longer than any of them realized, drinking and avoiding his family. Wren figured one scenario was just as likely as the other and moved out of his way as he headed for the fridge to put his new cans inside.

"Hey pumpkin." He winked in Wren's direction as he passed and opened the fridge to stow the box of beer, "Good of you to make it for dinner, though you never did miss many of those."

Wren's teeth ground together as the barb hit its mark and her dad chuckled as if he'd told the funniest joke in the world. As if it wasn't bad enough that he still used that old childhood "endearment" that she hated. He'd called her pumpkin all her life because her mother had dressed her as one for Halloween as a baby. She could have forgiven the poor nickname choice if anyone had ever let her forget that she'd been a pumpkin because she was so round and chubby no other baby costume had fit, but they hadn't and apparently never would.

It didn't matter that she'd grown out of her baby fat by the time she was a teen. The damage had been done. All the supposedly humorous remarks about her eating dessert or never missing a meal had done the job. She'd stopped eating in front of people and started running to burn off the calories of the tiny amounts of food she allowed herself.

When Lark had died, she'd gone days without eating anything and almost ended up in the hospital but Raven had pulled her back from that dangerous precipice.

When she'd finished crying and the anger had taken over, she'd recognized her eating disorder for what it was and gotten help. She'd known that she had to be strong enough to take care of herself and her little sister when her mother faded into the haze the pills created and her father tried to drown his sorrows in the booze. Lark's death, her parents' neglect, Raven's love, they had been the things to save her and put her on a healthier path.

But her father didn't understand any of it because he'd been too distant even before Lark's death to realize Wren needed real help.

"Dad. Stop." Raven stepped between them.

"What? It's a joke. She can't take a joke?" He immediately became defensive, puffing his chest up and taking a big gulp from his beer.

"It's not a joke and it's not funny." Wren hissed.

"Jeez, pardon me. I didn't realize the fun police were here."

"Go and sit down, please. Dinner's ready and I'm about to start serving." Raven pointed to the table.

He reached back into the fridge and grabbed a second can of beer before sauntering over to the table and collapsing down into his seat. Wren breathed in and out and tried not to let her fury overcome her. Raven put a hand on her arm and she fought not to jerk away from what was meant to be a comforting gesture.

"Ignore him. He's an idiot." Her sister spoke softly and Wren scoffed.

"He's a drunk. That doesn't mean he's stupid."

"Wren…" Raven winced but she shook her sister off.

"It's fine. Let's just get this dinner over with."

Wren returned to the table and put the serving utensils down before taking her own seat.

It had been six years but there were still five seats shoved in at the table. For as long as she could remember, her family had all sat in the same seats. Her father, at the head of the table despite it being round. His seat was larger than the others and had once belonged to Wren's grandfather. Her mother sat to his right with Raven on the other side of her and Wren beside her. Lark had always sat in the chair to their father's left and it remained empty as they all took their places.

Wren had never once considered touching Lark's chair. Not to move it, even though it would give them all more room around the table to spread out. Certainly not to sit in it. But at that moment she wanted to pick the stupid piece of wood up and smash it to bits.

Because this was all Lark's fault. Everything they'd become was because of her. If she'd just stayed home that night like she was supposed to, everything would be different.

Her sister would still be alive. Her parents wouldn't be addicted to the numbness their substance of choice provided. Raven wouldn't have to pretend everything was fine all the time, always checking on everyone else, playing peacemaker and being the glue that tried to hold them all together. And Wren wouldn't feel this awful mix of guilt, shame, and anger.

Or maybe she was wrong?

Maybe if Lark was alive things would be just as bad as they were now but in a different way. Lark would have realized when she turned eighteen that she was never meant to be mated with Logan and when he sparked the bond with Wren she would have been furious. Their parents would have taken Lark's side because they always did. Raven would still be playing peacemaker between all of them. And Wren would still feel like an outsider in her own family.

There was no way of knowing because they couldn't go back in time. They couldn't change anything. This was the life that fate had given them and wishing for things that couldn't be was a path leading only towards madness. She knew that. It was why she'd always focused on her anger, on her quest for justice, because at least she was doing something even if it never felt like enough.

"Wren?"

"Hmm?" She realized belatedly that her sister had said her name and glanced up from her plate.

"Corn?" Raven offered the bowl and Wren took it from her instinctively.

"Thanks."

"You're welcome." Raven smiled.

"No. I mean it." Wren caught her sister's gaze and held it, feeling the need to express how much all that Raven did for them truly meant. "Thank you for all that you do. You make sure we don't forget about the important things. You take care of us all, even though you're the baby of the family, and you don't get enough recognition for that. So, thank you for all that you do."

Raven's bottom lip trembled slightly but she tilted her chin up and kept her grin in place, "Thank you for saying that."

"Thank you for making us dinner."

Their father made a noise and when they both turned to face him he shrugged, "That's what she does. She cooks. That's her job."

Wren narrowed her eyes at their father, "It's not her job to cook for us."

"Oh, don't get your panties in a twist, Wren. You know what I meant."

"I'm not sure I do?"

Raven spoke over her, "Yes, Dad. I'm a chef at Cafe Callisto but I enjoy getting to cook for my family too, especially on special occasions."

"Special occasions?" Mavis blinked and Wren wanted to shake her out of her oblivion.

"Your birthday." Raven only nodded. "We're celebrating your birthday, Mom."

"Oh, yes, of course." She nodded as if she hadn't already forgotten. "You cooked for my birthday."

"Yes, I did." Raven put some meat on their mother's plate like she was a child. "I made turkey, just the way you like it. Here, try a bite."

Mavis dutifully lifted the turkey to her mouth and chewed. Wren didn't feel hungry at all, not with her stomach churning and her anger with her parents making her skin itch. Still, she too lifted a bite to her mouth and chewed as the others did the same. The table fell quiet as everyone began to eat but Mavis looked up suddenly, eyes focusing on Wren.

"How is work going, Wren?"

She paused with a spoonful of corn halfway to her mouth, "Um… fine."

"You've been working for the Alpha. I hope you're doing a better job than just fine." Her mother made a tsking sound.

"I'm doing my job, Mom." Wren assured her.

"We're so proud of you, ya know, for what you're doing." Mavis continued, her eyes beginning to drift again.

A shiver of unease raced down Wren's spine. Her mother didn't know what she was doing. She barely remembered where she was half the time. There was no way that her mother had figured out she took the job in the Alpha's office in order to dig for information about Lark's murder… was there?

Wren put the spoonful of corn gently back on her plate, "What do you mean?"

"Everything you do for the Alpha. We're so proud of you for taking care of him, for helping him. You're doing good for the pack by supporting him. He's a good man and he needs good people around him."

Wren's stomach turned and she was shaking her head before she could stop herself, "He's not a good man."

"Wren…" Raven started to reach a reassuring hand towards her again but she flinched away this time.

"He's evil, Mom. He's a vile, evil old man and you'd know that if you ever got it together long enough to leave this house and see what he's done to our pack."

"Don't you dare speak that way in my house!" Her father snapped. "It's treason and I won't listen to it under my roof."

"It's the truth. Just because you choose to blindly follow him doesn't mean I have to."

"You will respect the Alpha or I will…"

"You'll what?" Wren yelled over him as his voice rose, the anger they'd been stoking in her all night suddenly bursting into a furious scream. "Send me to my room? Ignore me the same way you always have? I'm not a child anymore and you can't..."

He roared over her, "You're my child and you will show the proper respect!"

"Bullshit. I haven't been a child since the night Lark was murdered. She died because you ignored me, because you were too worried about your precious connection to the Alpha to stop her. I lost all respect for you and him that night and I…"

His huge hand shot out so fast that Wren didn't have time to dodge and it landed with a sharp smack across her cheek. Her head spun from the impact and her wolf lunged for the surface, snarling and ready for a fight. Wren blinked, so surprised that her father had slapped her that it took her a moment to pull the wolf back and regain her humanity. When she did, she realized that she was on the floor, one hand pressed to her stinging cheek, and Raven was standing over her, putting herself between Wren and the hulking figure of their looming father.

"Stop it! Stop it right now!" Raven was screaming now too.

"Oh gods…" Their father stumbled a little and caught himself on the edge of the table, "Oh gods, pumpkin? I'm sorry. I didn't mean to… I.. you provoked me and I…"

"Don't you dare." Wren hissed as she forced herself up from the floor.

She could feel the swelling erupt on the side of her face already. Her head ached and her vision felt fuzzy but she found her feet with some effort. Raven caught her when she swayed but she shoved out of her sister's grasp, guilt already warring with the anger and pain.

"Are you okay?" Raven's dark eyes searched hers but Wren could only shake her head.

"I'm sorry I ruined your dinner."

"You didn't… it's… we'll figure it out."

"Wren, please." Their father spoke and when she looked past Raven she saw that he had his head in his hands just as she saw that their mother had curled into a ball in her chair and was rocking herself in a self-soothing way.

"I have to go."

"Wren, no…" Raven tried to grab for her again but she backed away.

"I can't be here. Not right now. I just… I need to go."

"I'll go with you."

"No, stay. Take care of them…" Wren's voice broke on a sob as it escaped her throat. "I want to be alone."

"No, you don't."

"I'll see you at home." She ignored the fact that her sister was right and turned on her heel, leaving the house in a rush before the tears could start to fall.

She hadn't cried in six years. Not since they put Lark in the ground. But she'd cried almost nonstop for the past twenty-four hours and she knew it was partly the rush of hormones that came with the mating bond but she thought she also might have finally, simply, reached her breaking point.

She'd been keeping so much bottled up inside of her. Pretending she was okay. Playing the part of the dutiful daughter and pack member. She'd been acting for so long but the veneer of calm that she'd adopted had been on the verge of splintering since the moment she scented Logan and felt the mate bond begin to form.

Tonight, she had cracked wide open and all she wanted was to let her wolf free to run, to be wild and untamed and at one with nature so that she might find peace. But she couldn't trust her animal not to hunt down Logan and sink her fangs into him so she did the next best thing. She went home and changed into her running gear, put in her headphones, and ran and ran and ran until her legs gave out and she was too tired to think, let alone cry.