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“At least he’s not disappearing again,” Nolan observes, crossing his arms over his chest and hunching into his coat. “He’s going to be there tomorrow.”
I send a wave of warm magic Nolan’s way, the spell natural for how frequently I cast it, and he seems to relax. Wordlessly, Donovan shifts closer to him, leaning against the wall so the sides of their bodies touch. Felix takes up the other side, and the rest of us huddle closer around him, as if to protect him against a bitter winter night. Nolan’s lips press tightly together, and he rolls his eyes, but he keeps any complaints of us babying him to himself.
Attempting to salvage Connor’s birthday morning, I wrap my arms around his bicep, his hands still full of the cupcake container, and ask, “What do you want to do for your birthday?”
There’s a little wolf in his smile when he murmurs, “You.”
Mei snorts, and Rand coughs in a way that sounds a lot like laughter, when it’s clear my brain does one of its overload short-circuits. The other guys seem amused, having had a lot more practice speaking the monosyllabic dialect that is Connor.
“What?” I sputter, sure I have definitely misinterpreted the single word. He couldn’t possibly be suggesting… with everyone?
“Tonight. Stay with me,” he elaborates.
“Oh, uh…” My eyes shift to Nolan.
“I’ll be fine alone,” he insists, but Donovan overrules him by volunteering to stay over.
It’s been an unspoken agreement that he shouldn’t be left alone at night. The argument is that someone should be with him since he’s so sick, but the truth is, we nearly lost him to his inner demons once, so we won’t risk it again.
I look up at Connor and smile. “Assuming my nan is okay with it, I’ll stay, but what I meant was, what do you want to do tomorrow?”
There’s a fierce certainty in his expression, the decision seemingly made long before any of us bothered to ask. “Time to use my Yule present.”
“Fuck yeah!” Donovan exclaims with a huge grin, his near perfect memory recalling the free home makeover we all gifted him last Yule. “I can’t wait to tear down the alpha house with the biggest sledgehammer I can find.”
“To do renovations, something has to be left standing,” Nolan reminds him dryly.
“Please, let me come,” Mei begs, digging her fingers into Rand’s arm and shaking him like he has any choice in the matter. “You live in a literal tree house, and I’m an earth witch. Come on, this is practically made for me. Think of all the ways I can move important branches or grow new ones.”
“You can do that?” I ask, always curious what is and isn’t possible with magic. Being told I can do almost anything as long as I understand how it works is super unhelpful when learning spells.
“I know it can be done,” she replies with an innocent, you can totally trust me expression.
Before I can call her out on her nonanswer, Felix asks, “Humans are probably not allowed, huh?”
“I’m the alpha,” Connor replies, as if there’s nothing left to discuss.
“Yeah, but I’m not supposed to know anything,” Felix reminds him, rubbing the back of his neck. “One kid shifts, and I don’t get to keep my memories.”
“Technically, I’m the pack’s witch,” I state, chewing on my bottom lip. “It’s my job to uphold that rule. I could just say I did, and then not.”
Felix shakes his head. “Too risky. It’s hard enough to pretend to have amnesia when it comes to James’s life.” He looks at Connor with a stubborn glint in his eye. “And you’re not changing your plans. This is important and long overdue.” Shrugging, he puts on one of his sweet smiles. “We’ll still have the dinner together. It’s tradition.”
“What dinner?” I ask, looking around for an answer.
“Chinese off of Main Street,” Donovan supplies with an eager grin. “We eat until we’re stuffed or until they throw us out.”
“We’ve never been thrown out,” Nolan corrects, nudging D with his elbow.
“There was that time where they ran out of rice,” Felix points out, tapping his finger against his mouth. “We weren’t thrown out, but there was some strong glaring at us, silently telling us to leave.”
“You made a Chinese restaurant run out of rice?” Mei asks, aghast at the mere concept.
“Free refills with every entree,” Connor explains distractedly, the talk of food reminding him that he has cupcakes. He pops the lid and sniffs the contents.
“I made them myself,” I share with pride, and suddenly the guys don’t look nearly as interested in consuming the dessert. “They are good. I promise.”
“We made them after her first failed attempt,” Mei corrects, and then shakes her head. “And by we, I mean I made them while Callie handed me premeasured ingredients.” She eyeballs each of the guys. “Have you ever had a cupcake brick? Because I have.”
