Page 30 of Jack of All Trades

“Then…this could be an even greater shock to them, and they could throw a lot of blame. It’s not uncommon for the messenger to reap people's wrath.”

Jack wouldn’t be hurt. Maltin would assure that. “Thank you,” he said to Dennis Peterson. “Can you leave the report and the statement and such for us? We’ll need some time to mull this over in our minds before we act.”

“Of course, of course. I’ll leave these and send a digital copy and anything else you might need, along with my expense report and the remaining bill. I’m not taking a dime for the travel, though. This was a shock to me too, and I hate delivering news that is this life-changing in ways that aren’t going to be celebrated.”

After Maltin showed him out, he returned to the living room and stood on the other side of the wood block coffee table, his mind racing for ways to help Jack through this. He had no real clue. “Jack, what do you want to do?”

“Tell my family. Or, rather, my fake family, exactly where they can stick it.”

Maltin agreed. “Good start, but what about your real family? I’ll follow your lead on that. I swear I’ll be with you through it all as your mate and as your friend too.”

Jack got up and went to him so quickly that Maltin didn’t know what was happening, but Jack flew into his arms, holding him so tightly that Maltin could barely breathe. “I hate them! I hate them so much!”

Maltin knew he meant the family that raised him. “Shh, baby, it’s okay. It’s going to be okay.”

Scooping Jack into his arms, he carried him up the stairs to the bedroom and, after laying him on the bed, crawled on next to him to hold him as he sobbed himself to sleep.

Once he was sure Jack wouldn’t wake if he moved, he got up and left to head to the warehouse, avoiding looking at the Corvette and Mini Cooper. Taking out his phone, he called his family, who were all in the South of France for the winter.

“Malty? How nice to finally hear from you, dear.”

His mother was terribly old-fashioned and still didn’t understand that he was gay, for one, and limited in his magic, though it was her fault he was. “Mother, how is Uncle Rodney?”

Her brother Rodney was younger than Maltin by a week, and they’d grown up like brothers. “He’s wonderful, dear. How are you? Since I rarely hear from you, I wouldn’t know, of course.”

Closing his eyes, he tried to make his voice light. “I’m fine, Mother. I’ve been busy. In fact, I’m very busy…being that, well, I’ve found my mate.”

“Mate! What are you talking about, Maltin?”

He knew her reaction wouldn’t be warm and fuzzy. She’d been put through hell by her in-laws for the fact his father hadn’t looked for his mate. “Mother, you know I’m half shifter. It’s not like I was exactly looking for him.”

“Him? Your fated mate is a man?”

Outside, he slid down the metal wall of the warehouse and sat in the dirt. “Yes, Mother. I’m gay, remember?”

“How can I forget?” she snipped. “Well, you’re mated. Will I have grandchildren or…what is it that I will have? Chicks? Guppies?”

Here we go, he thought. “Hounds,” he said and flinched a little at the semi-lie.

“Hounds?Hounds?”

“Mother, please, it wasn’t my choice. Not the gay part, not the shifter part, either. I’d think you’d be happy for me.”

“Areyouhappy for you?”

Again, he could only smile. When he could feel his mother ready to scream again he said, “We’re getting to know each other, but so far, I’m very happy, Mother. And it’s not about his being my fated mate. It’s him. He’s wonderful.”

“I’ll just bet,” she snarked. “Regardless, what do you need from me besides stabbing an athame through my heart?”

So dramatic, that was his mother. “Well, I need power. Possibly a lot of it. Do you know the Pengroves?”

“Pengroves…why, yes, they’re an old family, going back to Ireland in the…let me think. The first century?”

“I wouldn’t know, I’m afraid.”

Her voice suddenly turned joyous. “Is he a member of the Pengrove family? Oh, Malty!”

He was back to being Malty. “It’s very complicated, Mother.”

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