Page 111 of Fool Moon First Aid

“Tyler and Ava…” I exhale heavily, the words catching in my throat. “They…” My hand flails for a moment, searching for the right words.

“Had sex,” she finishes for me, her eyes wide. “For fate’s sake, Ethan, if you can’t even say the word, you shouldn’t be engaging in it.”

“Mother, please,” I grumble, dragging a hand down my face.

“I’m just stating facts,” she retorts, blinking innocently as her coffee finishes brewing.

“I don’t know what came over me,” I confess, rubbing my eyes wearily. The lack of sleep is gnawing at my sanity. “I woke up in a cold sweat, terrified of losing her to someone else.” The nightmares just won’t stop. I press my palms into my eyes, seeing stars from the pressure.

“Oh.” Zane snorts as he enters the kitchen, his heavy footsteps announcing his presence. “The protective alpha rears his head, does he?”

“Yes,” I say, watching Zane prepare the coffee for our mother. It hits me then—do I even know how Ava likes her coffee? I’ve truly messed up.

“Continue,” my mother urges.

“I hired a moving truck and cleared out her apartment, then terminated her lease by settling it in full,” I blurt out, the words tumbling forth in a breathless stream.

Zane’s laughter fills the room, his amusement at my tale evident as he doubles over, gasping for breath. My mother simply rubs his back, sipping her coffee with nonchalant grace.

“You’re just like your father,” Zane says between laughs, the affection in his voice making the room feel a little less tense.

“More than you know,” my mother adds. “Did I ever tell you about our first month as a pack?”

I wave off the familiar story. “It was serendipitous,” I say dismissively, having heard the tale numerous times. “You were all older, none having found a fated mate. Zane and father were bonded, and you were the betrothed.”

“Ah, such a crude summary,” Zane remarks, finally ceasing his laughter. “Darling, I’ll let you take it from here.” He plants a kiss on her cheek and walks away, still chuckling.

My mother’s frown deepens as she settles on the stool across from me, her mug hitting the counter with a gentle clink. The lines on her face tell a story deeper than I’ve ever truly known, and her heavy sigh signals the gravity of the tale she’s about to share, one I realize I’ve only heard in fragments.

“Well, I need to go back further than that. Your father and I were betrothed when we first shifted,” she reveals, catching me off guard.

“This isn’t the story I know,” I say.

She simply shrugs. “I’ve never delved into the details before,” she admits. “For nine years, your father made my existence unbearable. It was quite the enemies to lovers story.”

“This is definitely not the story I’ve been told,” I repeat, more intrigued.

“Your father is ashamed of his past behavior,” she explains. “He never wanted a betrothal. He yearned for a fated mate, but even back then, finding one was as rare as it is today. Still, a fated mate is revered above all else.”

I exhale deeply, regretting my treatment of Ava even more.

I also bite my tongue, because the three of them were eager to mate us off to Natalie.

“Before the betrothal, your father and I were close friends, closer even than you and Brody,” she continues, her voice tinged with nostalgia. “After our parents’ announcement, he turned on me, becoming unrecognizable.” She spins her mug absentmindedly. “He did some reprehensible things I’d rather not recount, but there came a day when I had enough—enough of him, enough of Zane’s attempts at peacemaking. I needed solitude.”

“You left clan grounds?” I ask for clarification.

“Not just the clan grounds. I ventured into town, determined to run away. I thought if they didn’t want me, I’d grant their wish,” she recalls, the hurt evident in her expression. “I was heartbroken, missing my friend more than anything. I never wanted the life fate thrust upon us. I just wanted us, however fate would allow it.” Her vulnerability pierces me. “That didn’t include cruelty.”

Instinctively, I reach out, squeezing her hand in comfort.

She returns the gesture before quickly wiping away a tear. “Anyway…” She clears her throat. “I was on a bus heading north when we stopped for a break. Desperate for a connection to nature, I wandered into the nearby woods, despite knowing I couldn’t shift—too many humans. That’s when I stumbled upon a hunter with his shotgun aimed at a wolf.”

“What are the odds?” I murmur, engrossed in her story.

“I’m not sure,” she replies, finally meeting my gaze. “Without hesitation, I shifted and attacked the hunter, but it was already too late. He fired his shot.”

“He could have killed you,” I whisper, the significance of the situation sinking in.

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