Page 87 of Talk About… History

I took one more deep breath of her scent before finally looking at Arden again. “Thank you for finding that out for me. You didn’t have to do that.”

“I did,” he said, almost confused. “We’re a pack. I protect those I care about, and that now extends to all of you. This was something weighing heavy on you—I could see it the first time you told us about it. So, just like I did with her, I made it my mission to figure this out.”

“Thank you,” I said again, not knowing what else to say. “Did you find anything else out?”

“No, but I did set up a meeting tomorrow morning.” Then his mood seemed to sour, his eyebrows furrowing as he turned his gaze to Avery. “Speaking of meetings, I set one up at the end of the week for you. Do you think you can make it at 2:00 on Friday? The Network representative is going to be there.”

It was my turn to comfort Avery. Her body tensed, but Ford and Mason reached out, each taking a hand while I hugged her from behind.

“Yeah, I can do it, but do I have to be alone?”

“No, absolutely not. They would never fault you for having your pack there. If you think you can speak freely in front of us, then we will be there.”

“I think I’d like you all there,” she said, glancing back at me. “Do you think you could close the shop for a little bit?”

“Of course,” I said, not even considering an alternative. If she wanted me to be with her I wouldn’t dream of being anywhere else.

“Thank you,” she managed before letting out a sigh. “It’s going to be a long week. It seems we’ve got a road trip tomorrow, I’ve got a meeting with Mayor Adams and the council on Thursday, and now Friday is going to be this. Can we please do something fun this weekend? I’m going to need to decompress.”

“Fun, you say?” Ford grinned. “Leave it to me and Mason. We’ll have something planned. Anybody have any hard nos?”

“I’m game for whatever,” I said. Avery nodded along.

“Anything to distract me and decompress after that, and I’m there.”

“Just keep it safe,” Arden said, giving them both a side-eye before tapping the table with his knuckle. “Now, everybody eat before it gets cold.”

I bit back a chuckle, finally releasing Avery so she could go back to her own seat next to Arden. He’d taken on the unofficial leader role of our group, looking out for all of us, making sure our needs were met.

Mason seemed to be protective as well, but in a different way. Whereas Arden would make sure things were taken care of, Mason would fight your battles for you.

Ford was the levity—the one who brought the humor and the smiles, lightening the harder situations like this.

And I hoped I brought the balance, helping calm her and the others—though tonight they were then ones calming me.

Either way, if there was ever a sign from the universe that this was right, tonight was it. I was already feeling amazing about them, but the moment he found a breakthrough with my uncle, set up a meeting… I knew that I was no longer alone.

Avery

Meadowbrooke Rehabilitation Facility stood in front of us. It looked like such an unassuming place with a well-manicured lawn, flowers in the garden beds, paved pathways, and benches placed here and there where patients and nurses were already resting.

Everything about it seemed inviting.

I thought Cohen would be ready to run up to the front doors, yank them open, and find his uncle, but he was still holding himself back.

Reading him was a bit easier now. I could tell it was guilt stopping him, as if he felt responsible for what his aunt had done. I just hoped what he found in that hospital room was exactly what he wanted: his uncle functioning, happy, and not as frail as she had made him out to be.

“Come on,” Arden said, not giving him any more time to dwell. He gave Cohen’s arm a squeeze, and I gripped his hand as I led him toward the front door. Arden went up to talk to the nurse behind the desk. She lit up at the sight of us, recognition in her eyes the moment she spotted Cohen.

“Oh, you have no idea how happy he is going to be to see you,” she gasped, looking right at Cohen. “He showed me pictures and talked about having you over for the summers. You’re like a son to that man.”

“Please, just tell me—how is he? Everything I’ve heard so far is that he’s frail, sick all the time, and unable to function,” Cohen trailed off, unable to even finish as his voice broke.

The poor nurse looked so confused, her eyebrows wrinkling as her head tilted to the side, as if she were trying to process this. “What do you mean, sweetheart?”

“Well, Aunt Clara mentioned—” he started, but the way this woman’s face morphed from confused to angry in a second stopped him.

“Now, I’m not trying to upset anyone, but that woman needs to learn her place. No, honey, you come see for yourself,” she said, ignoring all of us and hooking her arm through Cohen’s. She led him down the hall and into a room, forcing us to try to keep up.

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