Page 21 of Lycans & Lattes

“You can’t tell Jordyn.” I pulled away to point an accusatory finger at her. “And you can’t tell Agnes or Avery or anyone else for that matter. Okay?”

She nodded before taking a step back. “Pinky promise.”

The wall of dread cracked and so did my resolve. I couldn’t keep it all inside my head. I launched into every detail I could remember: how we’d finally kissed, how I’d thought that all of our back-and-forth over the years had been leading somewhere, only to be saddled with so much baggage that any prospect of a future seemed too daunting. When I finally got to the bit about Wyatt’s mating bond and how it had been affecting me all this time, Harlow pinched the bridge of her nose.

Upon further scrutiny, Harlow didn’t seem surprised about any of it. I wondered if Jordyn had already clued her in or, at the very least, had given her a hint. I wanted to be angry with Harlow, but I couldn’t blame her for not wanting to be the one to spill this big, explosive secret, not when it was Wyatt’s truth to tell. Especially when I’d been so hard on her last year.

“Wow. Okay,” Harlow finally said, leveling me with a grounding gaze that only she could make work.

“Yeah. It wasn’t the best night.” I sighed, letting go of all the weight on my chest. As much as I hated being vulnerable, unloading it all with my sister had been cathartic. “To be fair, I think getting broken up with at prom was still my worst date, but this one was a close second.”

“Do you want me to key Wyatt’s car too?”

My eyes snapped up to hers. “You swore it wasn’t you!” She burst into laughter. “Oh, my witchy moon gods, I lied to the principal and campus security for you!”

“Calm down.” Harlow snickered. “I’m sure the statute of limitations has passed. Besides, you omitted information that you weren’t privy to. That’s not lying. Which is also why I didn’t tell you it was me to begin with.”

I groaned as I took another sip of my latte. Even though it didn’t look pretty, it tasted amazing. “This is going to haunt me.”

“I have experience with that too.” She gave me a wink, and I let myself laugh finally.

Having Harlow close had been many things, but never once had I regretted her being here. She fit just as well as I did, and it seemed that we were both determined to put down roots. If we tangled those connections tight enough, maybe we could withstand any upheaval together.

I composed myself, finished my coffee, then started prepping for the morning rush when there was a knock at the back door.

Wyatt never knocked.

Harlow was the one to answer. But as many times as I’d imagined what this morning delivery would look like, I hadn’t expected a feminine blonde.

“Oh! Hey, Eloise,” Harlow said as Wyatt’s sister passed through the doorway carrying a giant white paper box of pastries.

“Morning, ladies,” Eloise replied cheerfully, though she let the last syllable linger. Judging by the awkwardness hanging in the air, I assumed she’d just had a similar sibling conversation of her own. She looked at me, brows pinching. “Can I talk to you for a second?”

“Uh . . .” I passed a look between her and my sister. “I guess.”

Harlow hooked a thumb over her shoulder. “I’m going to go sweep the front steps and reset the gourds.”

I gave her a grateful nod as she made herself scarce.

Eloise set the box on the countertop and braced her hands on either side of it. She had similar features to her brother—freckled cheeks, ocean-blue eyes, and curly blonde hair that somehow always fell in just the right way. She kept her makeup light, likely due to the bakery ovens, and had the classic septum and eyebrow piercing combo that Harlow said was the signature “slut-era queer” look. But I knew the mischievous twinkle in her eyes was pure wolf.

“I’m guessing you’ve talked to Wyatt?” I asked, folding my arms around myself.

Eloise shook her head. “He’s so torn up about it, he could barely get out of bed.” She panned a hand down her frame. “Hence the upgraded deliverywoman.”

“Well, the feeling is mutual. But thanks for bringing by the morning order.” I had no idea what else to say.

I didn’t want to hurt Wyatt, but my feelings and emotions were just as valid. Part of me wondered what Eloise thought of all this, but I was too scared to ask. She had always been friendly to me despite her coy demeanor, but now I wondered if it was because she knew what I meant to her brother. It warmed me to think she might look after him like that.

“He’s doing his best, but he has to pick himself up, you know?” The way she said it felt more like she was convincing herself.

“I hate this,” I admitted. “I know it’s not my fault, but I hate this feeling like somehow it is. You know?”

“Oh, I know all about that. More than you could ever know. But that’s werewolf politics for you.” She raised her shoulders and let them fall in defeat. “If I had to guess, I’d say he was trying to protect you both from a lot of trouble.”

“He said he hasn’t shifted in years. And that he could hurt me if he did.”

“Wow, he really explained this to you in the worst way possible, didn’t he?” She shook her head. “It’s not like that. You’re his everything. He would never hurt you, but . . .”