Prickly Business (16 page)

Oh, how wrong he’d been.

Another part of him—a much larger part—was lost. Everything he’d once thought about mating, about Avery, about himself… all those preconceived and judgmental notions had shattered at his feet. And left behind was this man, the man who had once spurned all things connected to mate bonds, now wondering if maybe he was wrong. Wondering if maybe the one mating he’d measured all others against—his parents—had actually been destined to fail from the beginning, or if it happened because of bad decisions. But why? That still didn’t make sense. Had fate devised a life of heartache for his parents, or had they created it for themselves?

“D?” Lucas’s concerned tone pulled Dylan away from those thoughts. He really should let his friend wait it out awhile longer. No sense in telling him he was right and giving him a big head this early in the game.

Dylan opened his mouth to respond, a caustic reply on the tip of his tongue, when his phone rang.

Saved by the bell, my friend.

He looked away from Lucas and to his phone as he pulled it from his back pocket.

“Hey, Mom,” he answered.

“Hi, baby boy. You’re still coming for lunch?” His mother’s warm voice washed over him, even as a tinny echo through the phone. She always had that soothing power about her.

“Sure am.” He checked the wall clock. He had an hour to get finished up and to his parents’ house. “Be there around noon.”

“Okay, then. Will you be bringing any of the boys?”

“They’re not boys. And not today. I thought it could be just us. We can catch up, and you can tell me about your new quilt.”

Betty Green was a master quilter. She’d hand-sewn quilts since Dylan was a baby, probably before. At first, it had been so she had something to do at home all day, since she wasn’t allowed to work outside the home. Then it became more. Dylan grinned to himself. He guessed in some ways Lucas was right. Betty was strong and brilliant. She’d built her hobby into a lucrative business she ran from home. Orders came in weekly. Some quilts she sold to members of the pack. Others, she gave away to those who couldn’t afford them. She even had her own Etsy shop online:
Wolfland Quilts
.

She’d taken Lawrence’s refusal to let her pursue a career outside homemaking and made a life for herself separate from him. She was Dylan’s hero in so many ways.

“Oh…. Well….” Betty hesitated. “Um, if I’d known….”

“If you’d known what?” The question came out measured, but Dylan knew what was coming. And he knew he wouldn’t like it.

“Well, your… your father will be here.”

Dylan hated the uncertainty in her voice. He wished there was something he could do to take it away. He didn’t particularly care to see his father, but he wouldn’t miss a chance to check in on his mother because of that jerk. Plus, pushing the old man’s buttons and seeing that vein bulge in his forehead was one of his favorite pastimes.

With a lightheartedness he didn’t feel, Dylan said, “That’s fine. I’ll be there with bells on. You’re still making burgers?” Hers were the best.

“Yes, dear.” She brightened. “And you tell those boys, next time they’re welcome to visit too.”

“Not boys,” he repeated.

“You’re all my boys. Always will be.” She cleared her throat. “Now. I need to go if I’m going to get this food finished on time.”

By the time he disconnected, Lucas was off working on a pack member’s bike and throwing questioning glances Dylan’s way. Better for both of them that he didn’t ask, Dylan supposed. He didn’t have any answers. At least none that made sense.

“M
OM
! I’
M
here!” Even though Dylan no longer lived with his parents—and hadn’t for a decade—it wasn’t often that he knocked on the door. Well, it wasn’t ever, really, much to his father’s consternation.

“In the kitchen,” Dylan heard his mother call from the back of the house.

The Green family home wasn’t much by many people’s standards—and that had him wondering what Avery would think about it—but to Dylan it was part of his childhood. His mother had made the small Craftsman a home, long before he’d known there was a difference between a house and a home. It exuded warmth and welcome, much like Betty herself. “There you are.” Betty hurried over to him when he entered the room. Gathering Dylan in her arms, she gave him a tight squeeze, then held him at arm’s length. “Oh, honey, you’re not eating enough. Look at you.” She pinched his cheeks like she used to do when he was five, just like she still did every time she saw him. “You need someone to take care of you.”

Empathy. That’s the look that shone on Betty’s face as she stared into his eyes, and for a moment, Dylan felt the stir of laughter in his chest. For some reason, the image of Avery cooking for him popped into his head. He didn’t know why it was so funny, except he couldn’t see Avery cooking for himself much less anyone else. Suddenly he wanted to ask Avery if he even knew how to cook.

“What’s so funny?” Betty moved back to the stovetop to take up the burgers and add cheese, then looked at him over her shoulder.

He hadn’t realized he’d laughed out loud.

“It’s the look on your face, son. Dreamy and happy.”

Dylan rolled his eyes.

“It’s nothing, Mom. Just a good day.” A good week really. Except for the fact he hadn’t heard from nor seen Avery.

Betty grunted and shot him a perceptive look. She turned back to take up the fries and the buns from the warmer. “Your father isn’t home yet. You’ve got about fifteen minutes.” She spoke conversationally. Sweet and unassuming. “Talk.”

Sighing, Dylan plopped down at the scarred cherry table. There was no sense in avoiding her inquiry. She’d get what she wanted out of him eventually. He’d learned a long time ago that it was easier to give in.

“Do you…? I know that mates, they’re supposed to be….” Tripping over his words was not how he planned on having this conversation. Not that he’d actually planned on this conversation. He hadn’t planned it at all.

He noticed when his mother stilled and took a deep breath, but then she gathered a platter and moved to the table. “Go ahead,” she encouraged with a wavering smile.

Dylan caught her hand before she could walk away. She was constantly in motion.

“Do you ever regret it?” He kept his voice low, steady.

Her eyes softened when she turned them on him. “Oh honey, no.” She sat down in the chair next to him and gathered his other hand in hers.

“But—”

“Wait. Let me finish.” She inhaled, and Dylan thought she was using the seconds to gather her thoughts. His mother was nothing if not eloquent, which made her hesitation all the more disturbing. “Your father and I… we’re not perfect. We were young when we met. Things were different back then. My mother and father were thrilled to have me mated to such an upstanding member of the pack, and I had stars in my eyes.”

Dylan withdrew his hands and sat back. “Yeah, but he’s such an ass. To you. I don’t even care that he’s a dick to me, but to you?”

“Language, Dylan,” she scolded with a swat to his arm. “And your father is not that bad. We just…. He and I are so much alike. Strong personalities.” She shrugged. “We’ve spent a lot of our time together butting heads, but I’ll be honest. We’ve always been better friends.”

And that’s what Dylan was afraid of.

“Your father and I love each other, and as much as we’re the same, we also disagree about many things. He’s not perfect. And yes, he’s an… ass.” She whispered and giggled behind her hand. Well, at least he and his mom agreed about one thing. “But I’m not perfect either.” And on that they’d have to disagree.

Their mating—it was exactly what Dylan feared. Doomed. “So this ridiculousness of mates being two halves of a whole? It’s bullshit, isn’t it?”

“Dylan,” she chided with less heat. “A mate is the most precious gift we are given. Some of us aren’t lucky enough to ever find our mates.” She gave him a pitying look and sighed before standing and turning back to the counter to gather the rest of the cooling food. “Your dad and I—we should have taken things slower, gotten to know each other.” She returned to the table and arranged the platters of food alongside the place settings. “We jumped into it. We had no chance to learn about each other. He….” Anger flashed in her brown eyes, so much like Dylan’s. “Some things, you should know before you jump into a relationship.”

Dylan exhaled. He was no closer to understanding the intricacies of mating and their purpose.

“Have you found him? Have you found your mate?” Betty’s hand trembled as she covered her mouth, a happy and shocked expression on her face.

“I—”

The front door banged open and Law’s gruff voice reverberated throughout the house. “I sure hope you got those burgers ready. I’m starving.”

When his dad rounded the corner and caught sight of Dylan, a brief sneer flitted over his face. “Dylan.” He nodded, then sat down. Lawrence proceeded to stack his plate with food and dove in. Gone was the fit pride and joy of PPB’s Central Precinct. Lawrence, once lean and badass, had let himself go after his retirement. Which was hard to do for a wolf. Wolves were active animals, and as shifters they ran hot anyway, usually burning off excess calories easily. The spare tire around Law’s middle spoke to his complete and total laziness and lack of motivation.

“Tea?” Betty directed her question at Lawrence, who grunted. At the counter, she busied herself pouring drinks and filling the uncomfortable silence with chatter. “Did you hear about Aimee—Mrs. Pickett’s granddaughter? She’s pregnant.” She beamed over her shoulder at Dylan.

“No,” he said honestly, taking a bite of his burger. “I hadn’t heard.”

“Well, she is.”

“How’s Malik handling it?”

Lawrence grunted from across the table, but Dylan ignored it. He wasn’t going to address his father’s prejudices today and for sure not in front of his mother.

“Well….” She made her way back to the table, three glasses balanced between her hands, then distributed them with the grace of a waitress thirty years her junior. “As Molly tells it, Malik was shocked at first—they’ve only been mated for two months, you know—but he’s coming around.”

“Thanks.” Dylan raised his glass to her and took a sip.
Yum.
She made the best sweet tea—not too sweet, not too bitter. Then he chuckled. “I’ll just bet Malik is coming around. Can you imagine him with pups?”

Poor Malik. Dylan couldn’t quite bring himself to feel that sorry for the guy. He was a twenty-year-old pain in the ass who’d made it his life’s calling to annoy the ever-loving hell out of Dylan every time they were in the same vicinity. Dylan grinned to himself while taking another bite. Payback would be a bitch for Malik, and Dylan looked forward to watching the rug rat give his dad hell.

Betty’s laughter was infectious. Dylan was pretty sure she was thinking the same thing. “Molly also said that Winnie and Faye saw Jaden’s friend coming out of Mr. Berry’s place.”

Dylan dipped a fry in his ketchup and tried not to acknowledge the fact that he knew exactly whom she was talking about. With his father there, it couldn’t end well.

Giving a noncommittal grunt, Dylan hoped his mother would let the subject drop.

“Damn troublemaker,” Law grumbled around the chunk of food in his mouth.

“What’s that?” Dylan narrowed his eyes. He didn’t know why he asked. His dad couldn’t be talking about him; Dylan’s life had been relatively boring as of late. And it was not like Dylan cared, and if he knew what was best, he’d keep his fool mouth shut.

He should have.

“That damned hedgehog,” Lawrence spat, taking another bite. “He was at Hank’s today too. Came over while I was checking on him. He was delivering food or some shit. Can you believe it?”

Dylan’s back went ramrod straight. He could only imagine how well that had gone.

His father continued as if he hadn’t noticed Dylan’s annoyance. “First the little fucker charms his way into the territory, and now into pack houses. The little prick is probably laughing at every one of those poor wolves he delivers to.”

“What are you talking about, dear?” Betty asked distractedly, eyeing Dylan’s every movement. She didn’t miss anything.

“Avery what’s-his-name. Jaden’s rodent friend. The alpha gave him a job working with the pack. He’s probably stealing from them.”

“Oh, don’t be ridiculous, Dad. Avery isn’t the kind of guy who’d steal anything.” The blast at Avery’s character rankled Dylan’s fur, not to mention triggering his protective instinct. “He’s not a bad guy. He’s doing a good job and not hurting anybody. If the pack ever gave him half a chance, they’d like him.” It was hard to not be charmed by Avery when he wasn’t acting like a self-involved ass, although Dylan was pretty sure that was Avery’s go-to self-preservation tactic. Christ knew Dylan had done everything to avoid it and had still fallen into those hazel depths.

His father sneered at him. “And how would you know?”

“Because I do.”

Law leveled him with a glare. “No son of mine—”

“No son of yours, what? I don’t live in your house or under your roof. I don’t follow your rules.” Dylan pushed himself up and leaned across the table. “Who I know and associate with is not your business.”

“It is when he’s an embarrassment to my pack. To my family,” his father argued, spittle flying from his mouth as he stood.

“There’s only one person in this room who is an embarrassment to this family.” Ignoring his father’s red-faced sputtering, Dylan turned to his mother. “I’m sorry, Mom, but I’m going to have to cut lunch short. I’ve lost my appetite.”

With a sigh, she stepped near and took his face in her hands. “Is this Avery…? Is he…?”

“I need to go.” He leaned over and dropped a kiss on her cheek, then turned away. He wasn’t ready to admit much to himself, let alone his mom.

As he neared his bike, Dylan’s phone rang. He almost didn’t answer, thinking it was his mother or worse, his father. He glanced at the phone, and Avery’s name along with a selfie—smiling eyes, puckered mouth, and rosy cheeks—flashed across the screen.