Page 92 of The Grizzly Situation
“Sneaky bastard.” He chuckled. “I’m thinking you might be the more devious of us all.”
“Back to the subject at hand. You’re a good, kind leader. I went for coffee with Cait last week, and she regaled me with the story of how you helped to save her marriage.”
My cheeks heated. “She’s a sweet person, and I didn’t want her to choose between her marriage and the job.”
“That’s what she said too. So if you care for your people, then you care for them all. I think, though I won’t swear to it, that your father would have brought an infection into town with him. Try to poison the minds of the people.”
“Probably. I spoke with Louis who swore he hadn’t even known the old man had come back into town, and no way would he have written him, because he was quite happy with how the sleuth was operating. Even Peter, his son, had turned his life around and was enjoying being here. He’s apologized like a million times for his behavior when we were kids, and he volunteers to help out by talking at the schools about how tough it can be growing up, but it gets worse when you’re being picked on.”
“You have good people here,” Uly said, his voice filled with sleep.
“C’mere, you.” I pulled him in and he put his head on my chest, letting his fingers trail along my stomach. “Get some rest. I’ll do the same.”
And that was what we did.
ULY
“Why am I doing this?”Brent demanded. “He’s dead, I don’t care, so let’s just stay home. I’ll even give you an extra blow job.”
“You’ll give me an extra one anyway,” I said. “And we’re doing this because I’m going to guess very few others will. It feels like we should.” I sighed. “If you’d rather not, we’ll stay home. I still get the blow job, though.”
He scowled as he grabbed his jacket, crushing it in his grip. “No, we’ll go. I don’t like it, but you’re right. And as the leader of the sleuth, I should be seen.”
The flight to Spring, Texas was far too long, and when we got there, it was way too hot. At home it had been in the thirties. In Spring it felt like summer and was seventy-eight. We arrived at the funeral home and our guess had been right. There were only three people there, and two of them were employees. The casket was closed, which I was grateful for. I didn’t want to see Gavin’s body, mostly because I didn’t want to feel guilty.
“Holy fuck,” Brent whispered, his voice harsh. “Do you know who that woman is?”
Looking at her, I had a guess. Her face was soft, even with the fine lines that bracketed her mouth and eyes, but she looked very familiar. I turned to Brent.
“Is that your mom?”
He nodded mutely, then took a step toward her. She turned and her eyes went wide.
“Brenton?” she whispered, her voice cracking.
“Brenton?” I repeated, not believing I hadn’t known his full name.
“Hey, Mom,” he said, his voice tight, filled with anger and tinged with sadness.
I grabbed his arm. “We are at a funeral,” I whispered harshly. “Keep your emotions in check.”
He jerked away from me, which I admit shocked me. “Fuck that. I need this dead and buried, because it’s eating me up inside.”
She threw herself into his arms, and he caught her, bent and put his face in her hair as they hugged. Then she stiffened and stepped away, wrapping her arms around herself.
“I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have done that.”
“Why not?” I asked. “I mean, he’s your son, after all.”
She turned and looked at me. “I’m sorry, do we know each other?”
“No, ma’am.”
“Mom, this is Ulysses McNamara, my mate. Uly, this is my mother, Beatrice.”
“Your….?” Her lip wobbled. “You found your mate? And he’s human?”
“Will that be a problem?” Brent asked, an edge to his voice.
