Page 33 of Shifters Unifying
“Yeah, I think so. She’s not all the way better, but I think she’s recovering. Someday, I’ll have a lot to tell her, and we’ll have a lot to talk about, but I’m not going to drag her back into our world before it’s safe.”
“Is it time for lunch?”
“It’s still early, but I can’t put it off forever,” I said. “I’d like to get back to Six-Mile. There must be some warriors already arriving, and I’m here not there.”
“Aye, and your hurry wouldn’t have anything to do with keepin’ somebody’s dick warm, would it?”
I snorted, nearly joking on the last of my coffee. “That’s not it at all.”
He chuckled, and he threw the car into park. “Want me to stay out here or come in?”
“You might as well come in. Mom’ll want to feed you.”
“Aye, and I’d like to be fed,” he quipped, shutting off the engine.
I knocked on my mother’s front door, but it wasn’t locked, and I let us into the house. “Mom? We’re here.”
“In the kitchen,” she answered. “I hope you two are in the mood for Ceviche.”
Nostalgic flashbacks flooded my mind, and my heart twisted. How many days had I come home to her cooking or baking in the kitchen? Since my father died, it was only her in this house. I didn’t think she’d ever leave it, too many memories lived here, but she had to be lonely most of the time.
“Haven’t had that in a coon’s age,” I called back, using on my dad’s favorite sayings. “Sounds great, Mom! I’ve missed you.”
My mother leaned around the corner which led into the kitchen, brandishing a wooden spoon. “Don’t you try to sweet talk me, missy. Your father could get away with that, but you will not.”
I froze in the vehement, angry-mother glare.
“You have a lot to answer for.” She pointed the utensil at me, and a piece of cilantro fell off and landed on the floor. Then she ducked back around the corner.
Beside me, Jasper’s eyebrows hit his hair line, and he let out a low whistle. “Ye know what’s scarier than the multimorph, lass?”
“What’s that?” I whispered.
“The multimorph’s Southern mother.” He cleared his throat. “And maybe her wooden spoon.”
CHAPTER ELEVEN
emma
Sophia Carter, the woman who had adopted me as a newborn, carried a large glass bowl into the dining room where she’d instructed us to take our seats. Her graying hair had been gathered into a low, no-nonsense ponytail.
I raised my hands in the universal sign of surrender. If I’d had a white flag, I’d have waved it. “Mom, I’ve been checking in when I can, and you know I’ve been busy.”
She placed the bowl on the end of the table where we’d taken refuge. Then she put her hands on her hips while she studied me. “Too busy to tell me what’s really going on?”
At first, I didn’t answer. “It’s not like I consciously thought about it.”Lies!I did because I didn’t want to tell her about the
Her mouth pinched, and she left the room without speaking. A moment later, she returned with a large metal bowl, filled with thick tortilla chips. She filled two soup plates with Ceviche and handed one to each of us.
Jasper stood and leaned over the serving bowl filled with the colorful salad of halibut, tomatoes, cucumbers, cilantro, and red onions. He took a deep sniff. “Lime juice, garlic, cilantro? Smells delicious, bright, and cheerful.”
“I don’t think you’ve been honest with me,” Mom said, continuing as though Jasper hadn’t spoken at all, and he returned to his spot, defeated in his mission to diffuse the tension with charm.
“Well, I want to talk now, don’t you think you should… should…” Gesturing wildly in response didn’t help leach my nervous energy as much as I thought it should. So, I said, “It hasn’t even been that long… in the scheme of things. Daughters go years without reaching out to their moms.”
She gasped as though I’d struck her. “What does whatever everybody else does have to do with me? With us? We’re not everyone else. We’ve never been everyone else.”
Jasper scooted back in his dining room chair. “Mrs. Carter, maybe, I should wait outside.”
