Page 1 of Mismatched Mates

JANE

The sizzle of bacon filled the kitchen as I flipped pancakes with one hand and poured orange juice with the other. Morning light spilled through the window, brightening the kitchen island where Lance and Brandon, still bleary-eyed, waited with their messy hair and early-morning yawns.

“Alright, guys,” I said, sliding golden pancakes onto their plates. “Eat up. We’ve got a busy day.”

Lance’s fork clinked against his plate as he reached for the syrup. “Mom, next time, can we have chocolate chips?”

I laughed, ruffling his hair. “Maybe this weekend, if you finish all your chores.”

I watched them eat, feeling that quiet happiness that crept in during times like these—simple moments, familiar and warm. As I sipped my coffee, my gaze drifted to the calendar on the fridge, a red circle reminding me of an upcoming parent-teacher school night. A familiar twinge of anger rose within me, but I let it go.

“Did you both pack your permission slips for the field trip?” I asked, keeping my voice light.

Brandon nodded, cheeks full of pancake, while Lance’s eyes went wide. “Oops,” he mumbled, hopping out of his chair.

I shook my head with a smile. “I put it in your backpack last night. You’re covered.”

Lance settled back down, relieved, stirring his eggs absently. A pensive look crossed his face, replacing his usual grin. “Mom?” he asked, voice soft.

“Yes, sweetie?”

He looked up at me, his expression thoughtful. “Do you think Daddy misses us?”

I froze, coffee halfway to my lips. A wave of emotions hit—anger, sorrow, protectiveness all swirling at once. Taking a steadying breath, I set down my mug and knelt by his chair, cupping his face and managing a smile. “I know he thinks about you both all the time.”

It wasn’t exactly the whole truth, but Lance didn’t need to know that.

“Really?” he asked, a flicker of hope lighting his eyes.

I nodded, swallowing past the tightness in my throat. “Really. You and Brandon are pretty unforgettable.” I tapped his nose, bringing a giggle that softened some of the ache inside.

As I stood, I caught Brandon watching me. His gaze held a quiet understanding that seemed beyond his age. I winked, our silent agreement—sometimes, love meant shielding each other from hurt.

“Alright,” I said, clapping my hands with a grin, “who’s helping me get this kitchen cleaned up before the bus comes?”

The awkward moment passed, and the boys jumped to help. This was our family now; just me and the boys.

Under the watchful gaze of the pale full moon, a crowd of smokers congregated outside Thicket & Thorn, where shifters mingled freely without fear of revealing their true nature. Ciara, the resident witch-bartender, wielded her powers discreetly, ensuring that humans left with nothing but hazy memories or none at all.

A stranger to town might wonder why the air smelled of testosterone and cheap spirits; a regular just made sure to keep out of fist range.

The crowd parted slightly as I moved through, curious eyes tracking my steps. To my left, a group of burly bear shifters huddled around a table, their massive frames taut as they watched the pack of wolves lounging by the bar. The wolves, in turn, flashed their teeth in silent challenge.

"Neutral ground," I muttered quietly, "doesn't feel very neutral right now." I took a steadying breath, pushing aside unwelcome reminders of better times.

Memories belonged in the past. Tonight was about moving on.

Spotting Jason across the room, looking like a lost puppy, I made my way over to his table. He greeted me with a tentative smile and a drink, as if that would erase months of heartache and betrayal.

“Whiskey on the rocks,” he announced as a greeting, placing the drink in front of me with a flourish. “Just the way you like it.”

"Oh, whiskey on the rocks, how original," I quipped, raising an eyebrow. "Just what every woman dreams of being wooed back with."

For a man who had paraded his fling around like a shiny trophy for all to see, he was equally clueless about how to win me over. But hey, at least he remembered my drink order, right?

Outwardly, my face remained composed but despite the hurt and anger, a tiny seed of doubt sprouted. I could never forgive what he’d done, but I wondered if keeping the family together was better for the boys.

I brushed the thought aside and ignored the drink. Better to do this sober, anyway—alcohol tended to complicate, rather than clarify situations. “You must be getting me confused with that chick you had on the side. Poor thing. Moved on to bigger and better things now, has she?”

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