39. Mason

Chapter thirty-nine

Mason

I stood on Thomas and Wally's porch, my hands fidgeting with the small rubber ball I found in my pocket. Balls and fidget toys helped me think, though it wasn't doing a good job right now. And that was precisely why I was here. Taking a deep breath, I steeled myself and knocked on the door. The sound echoed in the quiet neighborhood, and a moment later, Thomas's tall frame filled the doorway.

"Mason," Thomas greeted me, his warm brown eyes crinkling with a smile. "Come on in."

I stepped inside, instantly enveloped by the warm, inviting atmosphere of Thomas and Wally's home. My eyes swept across the living room, taking in the harmonious clash of styles that somehow worked perfectly together. The walls were a canvas of memories and art, displaying a curated collection that spoke volumes about the couple's shared life.

Framed photographs captured stolen moments of laughter and tenderness between Thomas and Wally, interspersed with abstract paintings that added splashes of color to the space. Each piece seemed to have a story, carefully selected and placed with Wally's unmistakable flair for visual storytelling.

I followed Thomas into the living room, glancing at their grand piano in the corner, its polished surface gleaming under the soft lighting. Nearby, a sturdy, well-cushioned sofa faced a large fireplace, its mantle decorated with various trinkets and mementos. The room was a perfect blend of Wally's flair and Thomas's groundedness.

"Thanks for seeing me, Doc," I said as I continued to take in the surroundings. "I needed to talk to you about something … someone."

Thomas gestured for me to take a seat on the plush couch. I sank into the overstuffed cushions, feeling awkward about asking for help and annoyed with myself for feeling that way. I'd do anything, ask anyone for help if it was for my mate.

"Shya?" Thomas asked, settling into an armchair across from me.

I nodded, my fingers instinctively rolling the small ball in my hands. "She's been through a lot."

"I've heard."

I looked at him sharply.

Thomas spread his hands wide. "You have met Wally, haven't you? He seems to be best friends with Mai and Sofia these days. They talk. Then he comes home, and he talks."

"That sounds about right." I'd been there when those three got together; put them in a room together, and no one else was getting a word in. "I'm worried about Shya. After everything that‘s happened with Tristan and that witch … I want to help, but I don't know how."

Thomas tilted his head, his salt-and-pepper hair catching the soft light from the table lamp. "Mason, what Shya‘s been through … it's significant trauma, both mental and emotional. There's no quick fix for that."

"I'm well aware of that, Thomas," I said. "I just … I need to know if there's anything I can do. Or if there are things I shouldn‘t do?"

Thomas's expression softened. "The most important thing is patience. Shya needs time and space to grieve, to sort out her own feelings from the ones Tristan and the witch planted in her head. It's a process, and it can't be rushed."

I turned my head as Wally sauntered through the door, his pink shirt and black trousers pressed perfectly. Behind him trailed Amara and Ben, the siblings who had recently moved into Thomas and Wally's home.

"Well, well, well! If it isn‘t our resident brooding PI!" Wally‘s eyes sparkled with mischief as he perched on the arm of Thomas‘s chair.

Amara, all of eighteen and radiating an aura of practiced toughness, leaned against the doorframe with her arms crossed. Her vibrant blue hair framed her face, the bold color accentuating her rich, dark skin and drawing attention to her delicate features—a button nose and full lips set in a guarded expression. Her dark eyes swept over me, assessing.

"Mason." She nodded curtly.

Ben peeked out from behind his sister. His face, a miniature version of Amara's, was framed by a halo of tight, dark curls.

"Hey, guys," I greeted, trying to soften my usual gruff demeanor for Ben‘s sake. "How's it going?"

"It‘s going." Amara shrugged, her tone noncommittal.

Ben narrowed his eyes at me, whispering loudly, "Is the dickhead coming?"

Amara's face hardened slightly, her blue hair shifting as she shook her head. "You have to stop calling Jase that."

"Why? He broke your heart. Therefore, he is a dickhead. I'm not going to let him forget that."

I raised my eyebrows at Amara.

"He didn't break my heart, Ben, and I've told you hell will host the women's hockey championship before we start dating again." She switched her glare to me. "And don't you tell him anything about this conversation, Mason."

I grinned at her. "Sure thing. Anyway, to answer your question, Ben, Jase is not coming. I'm here alone, and if I know Jase, he'll be off watching Mai's back."

Ben looked satisfied with that answer. Wally, ever the peacemaker, clapped his hands together. "Alright, you two. Why don‘t you go wash up and then we can make those cookies you like, Ben?"

Ben's face lit up, his dark eyes sparkling with excitement. He darted toward the kitchen, tugging Amara along by her hand.

Once they were out of earshot, Wally turned back to me, his expression a mix of fondness and exasperation. "Never a dull moment around here, I tell you. Now, where were we? Something about Shya, if my gorgeous ears heard right."

I sighed. I should have known there would be no keeping this conversation from Wally. "I just wanted to know if there was anything I could do to help her."

"Ah, well, I'm sure Thomas has guided you true on that score. But if you need any help, you remember that you're currently looking at a fully-fledged warrior now. I am locked and loaded, as they say, ready for anything you need. Just say the word, and I'll be there, claws out!"

Thomas rolled his eyes affectionately. "Wally, honey, you've been watching too many Fast and Furious movies. You're not invincible."

Wally gasped dramatically, placing a hand over his heart. "Thomas! How dare you try to stifle my inner Vin Diesel? I'll have you know that if you keep this up, I'll be forced to cut off all sexual favors. No more nookie for you, mister!"

And this wasn't awkward at all. Nope. Not at all.

Thomas, however, seemed unfazed. "Wally," Thomas said, his voice soft and full of love, "you're already a bad-assed super-werewolf. And I love you no matter what you do."

Wally's playful demeanor cracked, his eyes welling up with tears. "Oh, Thomas," he whispered, leaning down to place a kiss on his mate's forehead.

I stood quickly, feeling like the third wheel here. "Right, well, I'll leave you to it. Thanks for the advice, Doc."

"Anytime, Mason."

"You sure you don't want to stay for dinner?" Wally asked. He loved cooking for people.

I shook my head. "I need to get tracking Tristan." I held up my hands before Wally could say anything. "I'll let you know if you can help in any way, Wally."

"Good. Don't you forget, Mason, I'm a secret weapon. You just ask Mai. I'm sneaky and stealthy. No one suspects me."

"Apart from me, Wally! I suspect you all the time!" Ben's shout came from the kitchen, making Thomas laugh.

It was nice to see them as a family, but I felt out of place. I missed Shya, my wolf missed Shya, and we needed to start our hunt so she would finally be safe.