Page 9 of Hunter Moon

“That’d be really awesome, Ro. Thanks.”

5

Aspen

Less than a day later found me in the same awkward position, sitting across from my scowling little brother, this time in Chadwick’s Grille. After spending hours explaining my situation and making pitiful excuses for my behavior, we’d barely scratched the surface of the years of issues between us.

I still had a lot to answer for, and that was just to Lin.

Maybe it really was flippant of me, but I didn’t feel like I owed many people an explanation. Some, sure, but not the whole damn town.

What I’d done had been poorly thought out and selfish, but I was still convinced, even now, that it had been the right choice. If I’d stayed, I never would have been able to convince Dad that I wasn’t the right alpha for the pack. So instead of me begging to be taken back, I’d have been alpha, and drowning in a position I wasn’t suited to.

Or worse, I’d have dragged the pack down in the situation with the Reids. I was a wartime leader, not a peace maker. I could lead men into a fight, and I was damn good at it. But a happy, settled pack didn’t need that, and I didn’t want to change the Grove Pack to suit me.

I didn’t want to be in charge at all.

“Your mate didn’t want to spend dinner looking at my ugly face?” I asked, trying for a joke and missing by a mile.

In the best sign yet, Lin actually gave half a smile before turning serious again. “He’s a journalist. He had to go up to DC to talk to his editor about a story.”

“Damn, little brother. A journalist. I didn’t think it was possible for an omega to be out of your league,Doctor Grove, but you went and found one, huh?” I fiddled with my straw wrapper, like a grown-ass man making a crawly snake was a valid reason to not look my brother in the eye.

“He found me, actually. He got invited to town to write a story about us, and”—he shrugged—“you know how it goes. But seriously, Asp, you’ve got to stop calling me little brother. You’re less than a year older than me. And we’re pushing forty. I don’t think those ten months make that much difference anymore.”

I put up my hands in supplication. “All right, all right. Don’t like being reminded what a kid you still are?”

His eyes sparkled, amusement and annoyance warring on his face for a moment, before he shook his head, and they were replaced with something sadder. “Believe me, Asp, I’m well aware of my shortcomings.”

Shortcomings? What the hell did being thirty-seven have to do with shortcomings?

For once in my life, I kept my damn mouth shut and waited for him to go on.

He did, voice quiet and serious, and I wished I’d cut him off with more teasing, so I could replace that sad, heavy look he wore with typical brotherly ire. “The Reids had Brook for a week. After Dad’s death, we couldn’t just rush back in, so Zeke spent the time scouting, and we planned. We left him there for that time. Couldn’t do a damn thing.”

A week. A fuckingweek. Those monsters had kidnapped my Brook, had him for a week, hurt him, done god only knew what to him.

And that clinched things, didn’t it? There was no way I’d have been able to leave Brook there for a week, waiting for the right time to go after him. I’d have run in on the first night, claws out, and either left a trail of bodies in my wake, or gotten killed. Or both.

Then I stayed quiet, Lin went on. “He’s doing well, all things considered. And frankly, it’s understandable that he’s struggling. But you have to know that you coming home is bringing up some other issues for him.”

I blinked, staring at him for a moment. “Me? Why would me coming home change anything for him?”

We sat there for a long, silent moment, staring at each other. Both of us were clearly shocked by the other, but for the life of me, I couldn’t figure it out. Why the hell would me showing up mean anything to Brook?

I was his good-for-nothing ex who’d skipped town without warning. I was a mistake, a blip in his past that he was surely long over.

“Jesus, you’re utterly clueless, aren’t you?” Lin finally asked, tone insultingly incredulous. “I mean, Colt said you seemed to be emotionally constipated, but what the hell, Aspen?”

Emotionally constipated? What the hell did that even mean?

Fortunately for both of us, Wanda sauntered up just then with our dinner. “One chicken parm for the alpha,” she announced, setting a plate in front of Lin. I cringed, waiting for an insult, since everyone had been glaring at me at every opportunity since my return. “And a Reuben for you, sweetheart. I assumed the extra fries like when you were a kid.”

I blinked up at her, shocked. “Yeah. Yeah, thanks, Mrs. Chadwick.”

She snorted. “Sweetheart, you’re almost forty. I think you can call me Wanda now. Either way, welcome home.”

I smiled up at her, taking the chilly bottle of ketchup she held out, and something warm and soft settled in my belly. I hadn’t really thought much about it, but Wanda was probably only fifteen years older than me. It had seemed like a lot when I was twenty. Didn’t seem like much now.

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