Page 154 of Pack Baby for the Silver Foxes

“Maeve said you saved her,” I said.

Presley set her mug down without drinking.

Then her eyes filled. “No,” she said softly. “Your sister saved me.”

I looked down at my hands. “She did?”

“Yes.” Presley wiped her cheek with the heel of her hand, annoyed by the tear. “And I wish she’d let me in on her life back then. I wish she had trusted me.”

“It was hard on her.”

“I know.”

“Finn was horrible to her,” I said, voice dropping. “So horrible that she was afraid just speaking his name out loud would conjure him. I never blamed her for running. But I was worried she’d been murdered.”

Presley’s face tightened. She reached across and squeezed my hand.

“At least she’s happy now,” I said.

“And you? Maeve did mention that your alphas are your ex’s dads. How did he take it?”

I looked out the window. The garden blurred beyond it. “He doesn’t know yet. He’s coming on Thursday.”

Presley’s hand stayed around mine. “Messy.”

“Thank you. I hadn’t noticed.”

“Sorry. Northern instinct. We name the disaster before offering tea.”

I smiled despite the cold in my chest. “I’m petrified.”

“Of Damien?”

“Of what he’ll do to them.” I swallowed. “Of what he’ll say. Of them seeing his face and remembering all the years they loved him before they knew me. What if he makes it hurt so much they start wondering if this is worth it?”

Presley didn’t rush to answer.

That was worse.

“Do you trust the bond?” she asked.

I looked at her. “I thought you were going to tell me to trust the men.”

“That too. But men can be idiots, even good ones. Fate tends to be irritatingly persistent.”

“You’re telling me to trust the fates?”

“Yes.”

“Plural?”

“Always. If one fate is having an off day, the others can cover.”

I laughed under my breath.

Presley’s fingers tightened around mine.

“Listen to me, Mary. Damien can hurt them. He probably will. Children know where the soft places are, even when they’re grown and being little sods about it. But pain isn’t the same as regret.”