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“You don’t—” Cerys stood up.
“Stop it.” Garret pointed at Sterling. “Don’t you—”
Sterling shook with fury. “Do I have his face? Is he pale, like me? Do I have his eyes? Because I don’t have yours. Do I have his mannerisms? I’m half him, after all. Do you see him when you look at me?”
Oh, Sterling…
Cerys’ tongue darted out between her lips just enough to dab them, and her eyes shone in the light, but she didn’t shed a tear. The scent of MoonDark and lilacs choked the air and mingled with the salt and ocean-froth.
Veins and sinews stood out against Sterling’s neck and jaw. Garret let out his breath and lowered his hand.
Cerys looked away. “Do you want me to answer any of that?”
“You just did,” Sterling snarled. “You just did. Both of you!”
Cerys kept her head turned, but her fingers curled into fists, and she smelled of anguish and old fury. Garrett’s fingers reached for her wrist, but he didn’t look away from his son. “Do you want to know his name?”
“When have I ever wanted to know his name?” Sterling shouted. “Do you want me to know his name? Do you need to unburden your souls?”
Garrett didn’t break eye contact.
Sterling shoved back his chair and stood. “I am walking away now. We will never speak of this again. Winter is my mate. I am a wolf. You will accept this, and what comes with it, because we are family. And if you cannot, I have just found the limits of what family means.”
Garret stood. “I have sworn to you there is no limit. I made you that promise—”
“And what is your promise worth?!” Sterling shouted, then he lowered his voice to a dangerous snarl. “We’re not discussing this. I don’t want your apologies or your explanations. It’s too late. I want the information I need to protect my family, and I don’t care how much it offends you or angers you. I suggest you two both find some other hill to die on, because I’m never coming back to this one.”
Hedonist Survival Kit
Sterling’s small condo in downtown Palm Beach had a stunning view of the city, complete with small balcony.
The condo was clean and dust-free, featuring a decor inspired by early spartan and absent bachelor male. The bed lacked sheets, but there were some musty linens in the small hall closet. A spider skittered out along my arm. I sneezed, flicked the spider away, and hauled the sheets to the tiny laundry closet off the kitchen.
The laundry closet was empty except for a small pastel-pink gift bag sitting above the dryer. I peeked inside, hoping to find a pair of panties or forgotten lingerie just for the brief entertainment value. Disappointingly, there were only two laundry-mat sized boxes of powdered soap, a little packet of dryer sheets so old they’d lost their scent, and a few other odds and ends. A card shoved at the bottom featured the tacky logo of a real estate agency and read Welcome home! Thank you for your business!
Stock of pantry: one bag of rice and a tub of panko. Of all the pantry staples he could have, like raisins or oatmeal, and he had panko. Sterling’s cooking skills didn’t go much farther beyond open box, peel back film, microwave three minutes. Him being in possession of panko was like a toddler being in possession of an expensive ballpoint pen. There had to be a story.
Freezer: ice tray, no ice. Fridge: bare. No liquor in the cabinet or under the sink either.
He’d set his phone down on the table, and not just thrown it somewhere. Now he stood out on the porch and he’d been standing there. My heart broke for him.
An hour passed, then two. Jun texted a picture of him, Burian, and Cye playing Beer Go Fish with a deck of cards shaped like pastel-colored fish. The number of beer bottles indicated they’d been at it a while.
Sterling’s phone rattled.
Twenty minutes later the glass door slid open, and Sterling re-entered the realm of the communicative. He picked up his phone, checked the message, tossed it down onto the couch. He paced a few steps back and forth, lost in thought as he tried to sort through what to say first.
He swept down, seized my face in his hands, and stared at me intently.
I held quite still.
He studied me, his grip a bit too tight. “Winter, you are my mate, my wife, and the most important thing in my life. You were worth it. I’d get on that plane to Montana every time.”
His touch was so warm. I turned my cheek into the roughness of his chapped palm.
“Every time,” he said again, “every, single time. It’s driving me insane I can’t protect you but I swear to you, I will find a way.”
“We’re beyond that,” I said quietly. “When there is no one else, there’s always your mate, and I am your mate.”
