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The same lesson she taught since we were children was carved on her face.

There were no favorites in this family. It was only unwavering support and belief in each other.

Brody came around the corner at that precise time.

Arrogance dripped from his menacing body.

He might have been my little brother, but the guy had suddenly turned into a beast. Think man twitching and shuddering before he burst into a werewolf.

Gorgeous, obviously, though I’d never tell him that since the guy’s head was big enough.

His muscles were not quite as bulky as Trevan and Phoenix’s, but wirier. Lean sinew like Silas.

He and I had always given each other constant crap, but I loved him to pieces, even though I knew he did his best to make himself difficult to love.

His easiness a cover for the pain I knew he kept under lock and key.

“What did I hear? Were you just telling everyone I’m your favorite?” he called as he strutted up.

“Pssh.” Meems waved him off. “You know better than that, you scoundrel.”

He grinned, the only real softness he had toward her and Kai.

“No favit, Bowdy. We love and we go party.”

Brody laughed. “That’s right, we’re about to have ourselves a party, aren’t we?”

Meems held onto the railing as she climbed the stairs, foregoing the ramp that we’d put in on the left side of the porch.

Silas was right behind her, guarding her just in case.

“Woowee, look at this place.” She glanced around at the displays that had been set up on the porch.

Larger pieces of art carved of tree trunks and stone. Windchimes dangling from the eaves and a couple garden fountains babbling where they’d been tucked between potted plants.

“It’s pretty amazing, right?”

“Just as amazin’ as my girl.”

Brinley stepped aside so my grandmother could wrap me tight.

Tears burned my eyes. “Thank you,” I whispered.

Those two little words seemed to encompass a lifetime.

Gratitude for her encouragement.

Her belief.

For stepping up and caring for us when our family had suffered the greatest loss.

There was zero chance I would be standing there without her. She’d held us together when we’d become brittle and frayed.

Insisted I see the potential that I possessed.

When I’d been afraid and alone and confused—held in the grips of a child’s grief—she’d shrouded me in love and possibility.

Even when she’d been devastated, too.