Chapter Eleven

Callum

T he flight to the small country house my parents maintained on one of the isles didn’t take nearly as long as it felt. My stomach was churning the entire trip, a constant roil fueled by the parade of thoughts running nonstop in my head.

In a matter of minutes, everything had changed. The revelation that Noa had been purposefully murdered had shaken me to the core. Even as I landed, my front legs trembled with the news as I worked to process it.

“Hello?”

The voice came from inside the house, echoing through the screen door.

“It’s me,” I called back as I shifted into human form and strode for the trio of creaky wooden steps that led into the sprawling house.

“Callum!”

My mom came out of the house with a squeal of happiness. Short, standing only five-five and a hair, she was a whirling dervish of energy, her chestnut hair bouncing freely. Tanned, freckled skin, courtesy of a lifetime outside, was flushed red with excitement as her oldest son surprised her with a visit.

Despite what had brought me out there, I couldn’t help but smile, hugging her back with equal gusto.

“Hello, my boy,” she said happily. “How are you?”

“I’m okay, Mom. How are you?”

Motherly instinct took over immediately. After putting her hands on my shoulders, she leaned back, giving me that analytical eye that only moms seemed capable of.

“No, you aren’t,” she said. “Something’s wrong. What is it? Are you hurt?”

“I’m fine,” I said, waving at her as she tried to inspect me for wounds. “Not hurt. Not like that, at least.”

“What’s going on?” she asked softly. “Do you want some tea?”

“Okay.”

Following her inside, I waited at the island countertop while she made us both a warm cup of tea with some honey.

“Now, tell me what’s going on.”

“Actually,” I said with a deep breath, bracing myself. “I need you to tell me something. Without lying and without telling a half-truth.”

“Don’t I always?”

“I don’t know. Do you? What do you know when it comes to me surviving Noa’s death?” I asked.

Clouds gathered in her eyes. The same blue-green eyes I sported. It was often like looking in a mirror when we locked gazes as we did now.

Until she turned away.

“You knew,” I accused.

There was no response.

“I can’t believe this.” I ran a hand through my hair, searching for what to say. “Mom, you knew all this time? Are you serious?”

“Knew what?” She was deflecting, and we both could tell.

“The reason I survived. The only reason I could have,” I hissed, trying not to acknowledge the other elephant, the one only I knew about.

Madison was going to have a field day.

“Callum,” my mother said, trying to soothe it.

“No!” I shouted. “Don’t try to paper this over.”

“Why do you care now? It’s been years,” she said.

“Why?” I stared agog at her. “Are you serious? I’ve spent those years mourning her, all the while thinking I was a freak, that something was wrong with me because I was still here. And nobody told me. You didn’t tell me.”

It hurt more than I cared to admit to realize everyone around me had deceived me. They knew. They knew , and not one of them had spoken up.

“You hid it from me. You hid the truth. How could you?”

Tears were leaking from those same blue-green eyes now. “I’m sorry, my boy. I’m so sorry. I was just … I was just trying to protect you. You’re my son, and you were hurting. I did what any mother would have done. I didn’t want to make it any worse. I thought it wouldn’t matter. She couldn’t be brought back after all. You could have at least been spared the further suffering.”

My jaw fell open. “Spared? Spared? Do you want to talk about being spared? How about sparing me from the suffering I’ve experienced for the past two years ? How everyone around me has looked down on me as some sort of freak for surviving when she didn’t? Now I know it’s because they probably thought I was a coward for not pursuing her murder to try to bring whoever did it to justice. I feel like an idiot. Everyone knew but me! I’ve been living under a rock. You could have spared me that. Now, everyone just thinks I was some shitty mate who didn’t give a fuck enough to go after whoever murdered her.”

“I’m sorry. I’m so sorry, Callum.” My mother was a strong woman. She wiped at her tears now. “I should have told you. I should have made sure you knew. I see that now. I was wrong. I was just trying to do what I thought would make you hurt less, that’s all. But I was wrong.”

“Yes. You were,” I said, shaking my head.

Madison had been right. My family was screwed up, too.

But not in a bad way. My mother had done what she did because she thought she was helping me ease my suffering. It wasn’t for herself.

“Can you forgive me?”

I looked up, shocked by the fear in my mother’s question. “Of course I can,” I said, giving her another hug. “I’m upset, and that won’t fade right away. But I know you were doing what you thought was best. Just promise me that you’ll tell me the truth from now on. Let me hurt properly . Not that I plan to lose another mate, but you know what I mean.”

She smiled through the tears. “I do. And I promise I will. You’re my boy, but you aren’t a boy, and I need to remember that. It’s tough, though. You’ll always be my little boy.”

“I know,” I said, as always, moved by the amount she cared.

“Where did all this come from anyway?” she asked. “Why the sudden confrontation?”

“Someone else told me,” I said. “I didn’t know if I believed it because I assumed you would have told me if it were true. So, I had to see what was going on to make sure she wasn’t right.”

Shit .

The instant the word came out of my mouth, I knew I was screwed.

“She?” my mother said, focusing on the least important part.

“The person who told me,” I explained, trying to pass it off as nothing.

I failed. Miserably so.

“You met someone new?” There was a sliver of excitement.

Shaking my head, I tried not to laugh. “No, Mom. Not like that.”

A smile broadened over her face. “That’s great. So exciting. When are you bringing her over so I can meet her? What kind of food does she like? I’ll make sure to make some of it.”

I had no idea what Madison liked other than steak sandwiches. I’d have to find out before—

You aren’t bringing her to meet your parents. It isn’t like that.

“Mom,” I said sternly, “It’s not li—”

My dad chose that moment to make his appearance from out back. “What’s all the commotion in here? Oh, hi, son!”

“Hi, Dad,” I said, nodding my head.

“Callum has met a girl!” my mom exclaimed.

My dad’s face lit up behind his thick, bushy forest-man beard. “That’s great. Does she like beer? Or dragon-racing?”

I groaned. “Guys. It is not like that. I just met her.”

“So, you did meet someone!” my mom cried as if she had “Aha’d” me somehow.

“NOT. LIKE. THAT. Argh!” I threw my hands in the air in frustration.

My mom just smirked at me as if she knew better than I did what Madison was.