Page 90 of Ravaged Wolf
I take a seat on the long side, leaving the head and foot for Trevor’s parents. His brothers sit with no jockeying or fuss, as if they’re taking their accustomed places, except for Llew who looks lost for a second. Guess I’m in his usual seat.
A few more stilted minutes creep by while the butter is passed and drinks are poured from the pitchers of iced tea and lemonade I set out, but as the Floyds begin to eat, something resembling normal conversation returns.
The stew and bread are complimented. Other notable family dinners are recalled—the time Arlais burned the roast, and everyone ate it without comment because Macsensaid the first pup to complain would be on bathroom cleaning duty for the rest of his natural life.
They told the story of the time Llew stole a drumstick from Garan’s plate, and Garan thought it was Aled, so he bit him, and Aled flailed his arms in surprise, whacking Tarian in the face, and Tarian cursed, and Arlais heard, so Tarian got punished for swearing, and everyone else got away with it.
Soon enough, everyone is laughing, and I’m making myself smile and trying to remember to stop when the laughter dies down.
After the brothers polish off the stew, I serve the cake and strawberries. Macsen retrieves two bottles of sweet wine he brought from Moon Lake and pours everyone a glass before he reseats himself at the head of the table.
He gazes around at his sons, his dark eyes glossy with a sheen of unshed tears. The worn hand holding his cup trembles. His other hand sits fisted on the table.
Everyone grows quiet.
“I never dreamed I would see this day. All my pups together around a table again with my beautiful mate.” He raises his cup to Arlais. She smiles at him softly, tears streaking down her cheeks. “It’s a good day. May Fate bless us with many more like it. Cheers.”
“Cheers,” the others echo, clinking their old soup cans and repurposed peanut butter jars. I tap cups with Trevor, who sits to my right, and Llew at my left.
No one leans across the table to clink my glass. Not like they do each other.
Arlais and Macsen relax in their chairs, surveying their brood with watery smiles. Their gazes slide over me. Trevor squeezes my hand under the table.
I understand. This is hard for them. They don’t know how to act with me.
This has nothing to do with the family dinners I sat through for the first twenty-some years of my life, where I was invisible except for when I committed some infraction.
Isolde, elbows off the table.
Isolde, you chew like a cow.
Isolde, eat your food, don’t push it around your plate.
I drag a strawberry through the cake’s vanilla frosting and listen to the bond. There is muted worry coming through—Trevor isn’t unaware of the tension at the table—but his worry, and the ever-present remnants of grief and shame, are overwhelmed by his joy in being with his family again.
I focus on the happiness. His dad is right. This is a good day, and it’ll get better. His family and I will get to know each other, and they’ll see that I love Trevor, and that we’re good together because weare.
“So son, tell me about the poor elder who we’ve kicked out of his own bed,” Macsen says, pouring himself a second glass of wine. “How’d you end up with him as a roommate?”
“Granddad?” Trevor answers. “He’s a good male. He insisted you take his room while you’re here. He’s a Cameron from Salt Mountain, but don’t hold that against him.”
“Your brothers said he took you under his wing back there.”
“He did. Izzy and I look out for him now.” Trevor shoots me a smile.
“It’s good to have an elder so close. You can learn so much,” Arlais says. “You didn’t get nearly enough time with Grandpa Huw.”
No one else was talking, but all of a sudden, the silence around the table is loud.
“I’m sorry I wasn’t there when he passed,” Trevor says. Afresh tendril of grief flows through the bond. It feels like a nail in my chest.
“Oh, my pup, it wasn’t your fault.” Arlais grips the edge of the table and leans forward. She’s looking at Trevor, pain and love brimming in her eyes.
She’s not talking to me. She doesn’t mean that it wasmyfault.
No one can keep a female in heat from her mate if she wants him. The door wasn’t locked, was it, Izzy? No one was standing in your way.
The silence at the table practically vibrates. Everyone except Trevor and his mom is staring at me from the sides of their eyes.
