Stray (Shifters #1)(37)

“Then why waste it?”
Ouch! I shot an irritated glance at Ethan, but he was pretending not to see me. I knew he was pretending because he couldn’t quite stop grinning, even when Michael elbowed him in the ribs. They were supposed to be comforting the grieving fiancé.
“I’m not wasting my life, Mom. I’m doing exactly what I want to do.” 
“With your nose in a book all day?”
My hands curled into fists in my lap. “I like books.”
“You hide behind your books, like you used to hide behind my legs.” Her needles clicked together rapidly, a sound I’d identified early in life as the most annoying noise in the world.
“I never hid behind you, and I am not hiding behind my books.”
Her hands paused, and she smiled softly, as if remembering something sweet and long gone. “You hid behind me every time we had company until you were five years old.”
I let my head fall onto the back of the couch, staring at the ceiling. “I don’t remember that.”
“There are a lot of things you don’t remember,” she said, her fingers flying once again.
“Such as?”
“Such as when I sat on the council with your father.”
I lifted my head, narrowing my eyes at her in suspicion. “You sat on the council?”
She beamed, clearly pleased to have caught my attention. “Yes, I did. I was the only woman.”
“Why?” I plucked a ball of yarn from her lap, watching it spin slowly in my palm as her repetitive motions gradually unwound it. It was soft and fuzzy, tickling my hand with an almost unbearably gentle sensation.
“Why was I on the council?” she asked, and I nodded. “Because their decisions were important to me, and I wanted to have some input.”
“Did Daddy make you quit?”
My mother laughed. She actually threw her head back and laughed, drawing stares from across the room as she shattered the surface of a tense, grieving silence with a sound of genuine amusement. “Your father has never made me do anything,” she whispered, glancing around discreetly to make sure no one was bothered by her outburst. “But he did try to convince me to stay on the council.”
“He wanted you to stay?” I couldn’t keep disbelief from my voice. She was turning my entire world inside out, with no idea of the impact of her words. I could almost believe the sun would rise tomorrow to light a purple sky and shine down on bright pink grass.
“Is that so hard to believe? He thought the Alphas needed to be tempered by a less aggressive influence. Together, they’re pretty easily riled, you know.”
“I know.” That was true for men in general, in my opinion. “Why weren’t there any other dams on the council?”
“Well, I can’t speak for the other women, but none of them seemed particularly interested in discussing dry politics and border negotiations.”
That was understandable. “So, why did you quit?”
“I had more important work to do.”
“You mean raising us?” I asked, my tone dipping once again into my endless supply of disdain. Why would a woman who’d served on the council want to give up such an important position to change diapers and pack bagged lunches?
“You, mostly.” Her hands went still again as her eyes stared off into the past with a look so wistful it made me ache for her. “The boys tended to take care of each other, but you were too much for anyone else to handle.”
I poked at the ball of yarn, avoiding her eyes. “I wasn’t that bad.”
She smiled. “You broke Ethan’s arm.”
“It was self-defense. He wouldn’t let go of my foot.”
“He was helping you tie your shoe.”
I shrugged. I remembered it differently. He’d held my foot down with his hands around my ankle, so I kicked him in the chest with my free foot. He fell onto his backside. When he stood, face flaming in anger, I swept his legs out from under him with the foot wearing the untied sneaker—my childish attempt at poetic justice. Ethan threw one arm back, trying to catch himself, and we both heard his wrist snap. Everyone in the house heard him howl. He was eight, and I was six.“What about the time you super-glued Ryan’s—” She stopped, glancing down at her lap. After a moment, her fingers flew into action, needles clicking with an all-new speed and intensity. She’d been about to ask about the time I’d super-glued Ryan’s hands to the handlebars of his bike. It was a clear-cut case of justifiable retaliation, but she would no more listen to my excuses than she would finish the story herself.
My mother hadn’t mentioned her second son’s name in ten years. She could deal with his decision to leave the Pride, but only if she didn’t have to think about it. Or talk about it. Ryan was my mother’s kryptonite, her only weakness, at least that I knew of. He was the prodigal son who’d never returned. And his name was off-limits, even to my father.
Ethan crossed the room quickly, but I couldn’t tell whether he was coming to my rescue or hers. Either way, he knew we’d had enough. “Hey, Mom,” he said, plopping down on her other side. “Do we have any more of those cookies you made yesterday?”
Her fingers never paused. “Ethan, there’s no possible way you could still be hungry after three trips to the buffet. And no, you finished all the cookies this morning. After breakfast and before your midmorning snack.”
He grinned, holding up one end of the bootie for my inspection. I flipped him off behind my mother’s head, but he only grinned harder, still watching my face as he spoke to her. “I don’t suppose you feel like making some more, do you?”
She sighed and her hands settled into her lap. I saw the beginning of a frown on her profile just before she turned to face him. “It’s late, Ethan. Go make yourself a sandwich if you’re still hungry.”
From my left, Parker tapped me on the shoulder and jerked his head toward the hall. I nodded, sliding carefully off the sofa as Ethan tried to convince our mother that he had no idea how to assemble a decent club sandwich.
There are several advantages to being a cat that carry over to a lesser degree in human form, but stealth is the best by far. By the time my mother realized I was gone, I was racing across the backyard, with Jace and Parker on my heels.
Seventeen

“Wait.” I slowed to an abrupt stop, breathing heavily as I curled my toes in the cool, soft grass halfway between the main house and the guesthouse. Parker and Jace ran several steps behind me, their hair blown back by the persistent evening breeze.
Parker sidestepped me seconds before his momentum would have knocked us both to the ground. “What?” he asked, smoothing salt-and-pepper hair with one hand.
“Aren’t you guys supposed to stay with Kyle?” 
One corner of Parker’s mouth curled up in amusement. “He’s fine. We left him with Michael.”
“He’ll pass out soon anyway,” Jace said, moonlight glinting blue-white in his eyes as he came to a stop on my other side. I’d been afraid of what I’d see on his face, but he wore his usual carefree grin, as if nothing had happened. “We’ve been giving him whiskey as fast as he’d drink it. The man’s a lightweight.”
“He’s grieving, Jace,” Ethan said, slinking out of the thick shadows behind us. “And by the way, Faythe, you owe me.” His eyes were hard, his anger about far more than having to come between me and our mother. He was still mad about my involvement with Jace.
“Bill me,” I snapped, wishing he’d mind his own business. Jace wasn’t mad, so why should he be?
“You’re lucky I haven’t taken it out of your hide.” He wasn’t smiling, and his voice was almost a growl.
I stepped away from the others, giving myself room to maneuver. “You’re welcome to try.” I could still take him down, and now that he was grown, he’d fall even harder.
Ethan grinned, but not because he was happy. If he’d had real canines, he would have been flashing them at me. “Don’t tempt me.”
“Okay, boys and girls, that’s enough for now.” Parker put one heavy arm around my shoulders, and the other around Ethan’s, steering us toward the guesthouse at the edge of the tree line. Ethan and I would both be staying there, me on the couch and him on a pallet on the floor, because he’d given his bed to Michael for the night. My mother had fixed up Owen’s bed for Kyle.
Ethan shrugged Parker’s arm off. “I need a drink,” he muttered, taking off ahead of us at a fast walk.
“Me, too.” Jace jogged past me to catch up with Ethan, sparing only a short glance in my direction. Long shadows trailed behind them as they approached the light on the guesthouse porch.
“Yeah, I could use a drink,” I said. “Or two, or three.”
“Well, we can certainly oblige.” Parker squeezed my shoulder, and I glanced up at him gratefully. “I think a little binge drinking may be in order tonight. There’s no better way to deal with tension and grief.”
I took issue with his concept of therapy, but I kept my mouth shut because I couldn’t think of any better way to cope, especially considering the outcome of my hunt that morning. Besides, Parker was the world’s all-time best drinking buddy. He’d had lots of practice.