Page 59 of Meet Your Maker: Part One

My jaw drops. I blink a few times, sure I must have misheard him. “A farm? Did he just say—a farm?”

“I bought you—us—a farm out near your brother’s place.” He rubs the back of his neck, eyes flicking away. “Your dad helped me close on it, arranged the furniture and work crews…”

He gestures around us. “Obviously, Grayson and I aren’t communicating well these days.”

“Obviously.”

I’m kind of in shock and not sure what to say, so I lead with my heart. “I don’t know how I ended up with the two of you, but I’m thanking all my lucky stars that I did. It means so much to me that you both are trying to make a home for all of us.”

“I just… I never wanted to put you in a situation where you had to choose who to live with.”

I raise an eyebrow, a slow smile spreading as I close the space between us, slipping my hands up to rest on his chest. I feel the steady beat of his heart and press my palm there, grounding us both.

“That’s cute—you think I’m gonna choose.” I shake my head, letting my fingers trail up to cup his cheek. “Oh honey, I’m not doin’ that.”

He nods slowly, seeming to accept my decision. “Okay, so, we’re all staying here?”

I take a sip of my now lukewarm coffee and shrug. “Sometimes.”

“Sometimes?”

“Sometimes,” I repeat, lifting onto my toes to brush a kiss against his lips. “And sometimes… we’ll be at the farm. We might also need a beach house.”

“You know, for variety.”

Chapter Twenty Four

Earwigs

— Sunday —

I’m practically vibrating with excitement, my legs kicked across Tomas’s lap as he rubs gentle circles into my calves. His touch is a soothing counterweight to the thrill buzzing through me. I’m about to be a two-house girl—practically bi-coastal.

With each pass of his thumb, more of Big Daddy Wolf’s warmth seeps into me. But I’m still turning it all over in my head, trying to understand what sent him spinning into dark places—and I don’t think it has a damn thing to do with me. He’s hurt that Grayson didn’t warn him about buying a house, feeling terribly guilty that he did the exact same thing.

It’s sweet, really, how much he takes on for us—but Goddess, sometimes I just wish he’d use his big boy words and talk to Grayson instead of brooding like a tragic Byronic hero.

This whole kerfuffle is irrevocable proof that their quasi-bond is fraying—that they need to communicate or let this half-formed thing between them die. Tomas can’t let that happen—not with his wolf already involved.

I feel it all—his guilt, his reluctance, and stubborn loyalty bound up in the quiet longing to reach across the growing distance between him and Grayson. But now, something shifts. A sudden pop of shock and concern flares through the bond.

He’s staring at his phone, brows drawn together, no longer scrolling. He reads and rereads something, his jaw tight. Mystomach twists. I nudge his leg gently with my foot, trying to break through that wall he’s putting up.

He shifts, giving my calf an extra squeeze, the response immediate, though his eyes stay glued to the screen. I’m here, I send, brushing the edges of his mind with my gift. His jaw loosens, his thumb tracing slow spirals again—a silent reply, but not a reassuring one.

My pulse skips. What’s on that phone?What could be so bad he can’t even look at me?

I tell myself it isn’t my business. That I need to trust him to handle it. But the knot in my chest says otherwise, winding tighter, squeezing the air out of my lungs. I hate this. The not-knowing. The way secrets always seem to crawl out from the dark, biting when you least expect it—like earwigs.I shiver.

Also, don’t think about earwigs.

Lord, he carries so much weight for us.Too much.I know I need to work on this—we’re five people, but Tomas seems to do most of our worrying. And right now, I can feel it sinking into me, seeping under my skin.

The low rumble of a vehicle breaks the silence, followed by the familiar sound of tires crunching on gravel. But it’s not exactly right. The Judge is a whole lot louder than this. I sit up straight, pulling away from Tomas. “Where’s my car?” I ask, narrowing my eyes as Daddy steps out of his new van, stretching like he’s just driven across three states instead of three blocks.

“Already out at the farm,” Ben answers. “He thought you’d like a little surprise when we get there.”

But before I can even process that, Shadow clears their throat. “So,” they begin, arms folded, a quiet resolve hardening their expression. “I’m not going.” The words land like a lobbed grenade, and we all turn to look at them.

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