Page 86 of A Wolf in the Garden

Our foreheads press together, noses brushing. “I’m not, either, but we’ll get there. Together.”

* * *

It’s late, the room dark, by the time Ellie and I finish discussing everything she remembers. “Are you sure there’s nothing else?”

She sighs, tucking herself further against my body. Her head lies on my chest, her nose brushing against my skin. “That’s it. That’s all of it.”

All of ithas given us a lot to think about. “I’m going to call Mom now.”

“Van, no, it can wait ’til morning.” She lifts her head, eyes finding the clock on the wall. “It’s the middle of the night in California, isn’t it? That’s not fair.”

“I don’t care.” I reach for my phone, scrolling through my contacts.

“Seriously?”

“Seriously. I’m not going to be able to sleep until I talk to her about this. Besides, wolves are crepuscular by nature —” I see her confused expression and amend my wording. “We’re semi-nocturnal, so it’s fine. She’ll forgive me.”

“What are you going to say?”

“I don’t know,” I answer, pressingcall. I hit the speaker and leave my phone sitting on my stomach, using my now free hand to smooth at the frown between Ellie’s brows. The call takes its time to connect and start ringing — it’s always slow with international calls. I whisper in the dark, “I thought you’d be happy that I’m finally going to talk to her. That’s what you wanted for me, isn’t it?”

“Yeah, but —”

The ringing stops, the sound of my father’s voice grumbling in the background immediately setting me on edge. I hear my mother mutter “Who?” and then gasp.

“Van! Van honey, you’re calling!”

She sounds so excited, despite the tired rasp to her voice, and I’m rendered speechless for a moment, guilt hitting me heavily. I should have reached out to her months ago.

“Van?”

“Hi, Mom.”

“Oh,goddess.” I hear her shaky intake of breath, echoing my own. Fuck. I hate,hate,making my mother cry, and even though I’m mad as hell at her right now for her past actions, all I want in this moment is to reach out through the phone and hug her.

“Evander,” my father barks, cutting in. “You’ve got fuckingimpeccabletiming, son. It’s two-fifteen in the morning. I thought you could read a fucking clock.”

“Shh.” There’s the sound of a hand slapping against flesh, and I can see the scene in my mind, my mother smacking my father’s arm as they lie in bed. “He can call anytime. Van, honey, it’s so good to hear from you. I’ve miss —” her voice breaks, breath hitching, and that lump in my throatburns. “I’ve missed your voice. I’ve missed you.”

“Missed you too, Mom.”

“He must be calling for a reason,” my father mutters.

“Are you okay, Van?”

I pause. Am I okay? The short answer isno. Fae have tried to kidnap my matetwice— that we know of, who’s to say there hasn’t been more attempts? — I just found out my own mother performed forbidden magic and placed a spell on her, and Ellie’s disturbed by all of this, to say the least… Basically, my life is a mess. “Not really.”

“What —”

“I’ve got you on speaker. Ellie Harding is here with me.” I want to rip this off like a bandaid. “She’s part-fae, which I know you two know already. Today she was practising her magic, and in doing so, removed a spell thatsomeonehad placed on her, one that was blocking out a very specific memory.” It’s dead silent on the other end of the phone, so I continue. “Obviously, she was very distressed by what she uncovered. Again, you two would know, since the memory involves you both. I don’t —” There’s a growl in my voice, and I can’t suppress it. “I don’t like seeing my mate distressed. I don’t like knowing that she was in dangerfor years, and no one was protecting her. Ihatethat I was ordered to stay away from her for almost an entire decade, only to find out today that you both knew she was destined to be my mate. How fuckingdareyou do that to us, Weston!”

“Van, shh,” Ellie cuts in, sitting up, leaning over me, her hands on my chest, over my thundering heart. I suck in a breath through my nose, realising how much I’ve been snarling just now. I feel betrayed. I feel betrayed by them both, because my mother could have,should have, said something years ago.

The sound of sobbing is quiet through the phone, but loud enough for both of us to hear. I press the heels of my hands to my eyes, face screwed up, pain and anger blurring into one. Ellie is crying too, her head bent, tears landing on my bare chest. We’re a mess. We’re all a mess, and I know Lacey and Seth are too. None of us truly recovered after we lost Jenny. I don’t think we ever will.

“I thought my vision was wrong,” my mother says quietly, “because I saw other things too, that didn’t come to pass. I saw Jenny —”

“You don’t owe him an explanation, Bronte. Not at the expense of yourself.”

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