Page 189 of Broken Bonds
Mal
Look who's coming to dinner
It’s the next Monday evening before Sam comes over for dinner. Apparently, the adult refugees begged him to take a couple of days off, because he was spending his days working at the pack school before going to the rec hall every evening and teaching until pre-dawn hours, barely getting three or four hours of sleep a night, and it was taking its toll on him.
He spent most of Sunday sleeping and yet still he stopped by the rec hall after leaving the school today to check on the kids and answer any questions they had. According to Todd and Shawn and everyone else, the refugees all adore him, kids and adults.
I’ve never met a heron shifter and I’m nervous for a whole host of reasons.
Ironically, one of them isn’t of jealousy, because I’m not jealous. I know Todd loves me.
Besides, ethical non-monogamy doesn’t bother me, as long as I know our relationship is secure and there is communication and strict boundaries. Which, helllooo, we have that. He’s my mate, and I literally feel how eager Todd is for me to meet someone he considers a dear friend.
It’s adorable.
Still doesn’t eliminate my nerves. I’ve spent my entire life up until now having to tightly control every emotion and reaction for fear of being scolded at best, or angrily reprimanded at worst.
The only time I’ve ever felt I can be myself is when I’m nowhere near my father or people who know him.
When I spot headlights sweep up the driveway, Todd pulls me in for a kiss, smiling down at me. “Relax, baby. He’ll love you. Just remember to let him ease his way into knowing you. Don’t take it personally if he acts standoffish at first.”
I nervously nod.
He drives an older Chevy SUV and tonight is wearing jeans and a light blue Oxford shirt, long-sleeved but rolled up his forearms, and loafers. He’s a lot taller and thinner than I’d expected, maybe 6’1”, and while his shirt looks loose on him, the closer he gets the more I can tell it hides leanly layered muscles. I can almost see his shifted self.
He’s carrying a thermal bag and smiles nervously as he steps onto the porch. He wears his light brown hair cut in a short, nameless, business-appropriate style, and his grey-blue eyes are watchful.
“Hey,” Todd says. “Mal, this is Sam DiMarco. Sam, this is Mal, my mate.” I don’t feel slighted that he doesn’t say my last name.
Frankly, I don’t want him telling people my last name.
Not until I officially share his last name, that is.
Todd opens his arms for a hug. I notice he doesn’t swoop in, and I don’t know if that’s a Sam thing or Todd not wanting to trigger a jealous reaction in me.
Sam steps in for the briefest of hugs with Todd before stepping back and offering me a nervous smile. “Hi, Mal. It’s nice to finally meet you.”
“Glad to finally meet you, too.” I follow Todd’s lead and offer Sam a hug exactly the way he did. Sam steps in and gives me the same brief hug in return, and I’m already starting to understand what Todd meant about him.
He holds up the thermal bag. “I brought ice cream.”
Behind him, Todd grins and gives me a subtle thumbs-up, so I guess this is a good thing?
“Thank you,” I say. “Please, come on in.”
It turns out the ice cream is homemade, and he has it in a special plastic thermal container that he puts in the freezer.
Then he turns, his cheeks now full of pink. “I’m sorry. I should have asked if it was okay to put it in there.”
Oooh, yeah. I absolutely get it now, what Todd meant.
I smile. “Hey, you’ve spent more time in this house than I have. Seriously, please, it’s okay.” I opt to just go for the jugular. “Todd was telling me you know a lot about butterflies…”
Two hours later, we’ve finished our steaks, Sam helped us clean up the kitchen, and we’re now sitting in the living room eating literally the best fucking ice cream I’ve ever had in my life—strawberry cheesecake, if you were wondering…
And yes, now I know more than I thought was possible about butterflies.
Every time Sam’s back is to Todd, Todd’s giving me happy grins and smiles, and I don’t want him to silently speak to me right now because I don’t want to do anything to make Sam think I’m not listening or that I’m getting bored.
