Page 112 of Mark & Don't Tell

Tiff

Well, we wanted to talk about Christmas. Dinner at Mom’s. You’re bringing the turkey and wine.

I always bring the turkey and wine.

Alicia

Yeah, because none of us know how to cook it as well as you do.

That’s a lie, but Dad always used to be in charge of the turkey, and the girls have all given me that responsibility. Though I could never take his place, if they need an alpha to bake and carve the turkey to make their holiday special, I’ll do it.

Fine. Any other demands? Gabbie?

Sometimes, Alicia and Tiff can overpower her, so I want to make sure she feels heard.

Gabbie

Can you bring some scotch?

My eyebrows rise.

Since when do you drink scotch?

Gabbie sends a gif of someone rolling their eyes.

Gabbie

Since now. Can you bring it or not?

As soon as you tell me the name of the pack you’re dating.

Tiff

Ha!

Gabbie

Tiff! Don’t confirm it!

Tiff

I didn’t, I just said ha.

Alicia

She’s right. You’re the one who confirmed it.

We’ll be discussing this at Christmas.

I won’t be the older brother who gives dating prospects hell, and who knows, in a few months, she may have moved on. Or things with this prospective pack will have gotten serious. My sisters bicker back and forth in the chat, so I take that as my cue to leave and set the phone aside.

The library reminds me a lot of my dad. I remember him in little things. The crease on the spine of a book. The smell of fresh pages and ink. Picking up my book—Dad’s favorite adventure fantasy story—I try to fall back into reading, but all I can think about is the possibility of Gabbie having a pack.

My baby sister.

Dad’s youngest daughter.

He’s missed so much, but I know he’d be proud of us. He might not approve of everything we’ve ever done—especially not my skydiving adventure—but he’d support us. He’d be happy for us.

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