Page 171 of Home to the Hollow

“Now,” Doyle says as he takes the wipe from Prez and tucks it well under the bleachers. “Since you’ve both been so well behaved—or mostly…” He gives our girl a playful wink. “...snuggle in close and we’ll get ice cream on the way home.”

Jolene grumbles a little, but she’s as boneless as me, so she lets them squish us in the middle with their arms linked behind our backs. “There’d better be milkshakes.Multiple milkshakes.”

“Anything my queen desires,” Presley replies as he kisses my temple. My Prince, too.”

We’renevergoing to hear the end of this when Teddy finds out, I know it.

Week Seven

Mydrugartook the work crews at her house about as well as I could have expected. Pup and the other two troublemakers helped, of course, but I’m fairly certain allowing her purple haired Guardian to design our costumes for the Masquerade was both a punishment for us and a concession to her friend’s new partners. Tilly was so worried that the onlyloyalfriend she’d ever had was going to abandon her—I had to stop the softer idiots from spilling the beans about her status multiple times.

Finding out her bestie has been lying to her for over a decade willnotfix Jolene’s trust issues.

In fact, I know she’s going to take the tar out of all of us when she’s finally able to learn the truth. If I could spare her the feelings of betrayal, I would, but I don’t know any djinn to make a wish nor would I seek a time traveler. Both options are messy and fraught with problems because it’s the easy way out. We’re all going to accept our part in hurting her—whether or not we meant to—and look hard at ourselves so we can admit we did wrong without blaming it on anyone else.

Humans aren’t alone in their foibles; they’re just shit at owning them.

Tilly was making peace with her jealousy of Julia and her crew slowly and it’s rather impressive. She doesn’t trust them yet, and she’s made itabundantlyclear, but she apologized for being rude on the outing to the city. After that, she hasn’t blinked a lash at them joining us for dinner or her friend announcing they had to go out of town for a little while. I was so impressed that I made certain she knew how proud we all were that night.

Fuck. Thinking about last weekend was a mistake—now I’m hard as hell and we have to put oncostumes.

“Having trouble, Teddy?” The mischievous grin on the pup’s face tells me he knows, and I chuckle as he and the doc bringing in the costume boxes from the spare bedroom.

Jolene’s friend insisted we wait until the day of the event to open them. Despite all the protests about sizing, our girl waved us off. Her faith in her friend’s talent is absolute and she wouldn’t be swayed to even let us peek.

Christ, I hope she was right.

When Wolfie hands me mine, I grab his arm, tugging him in to kiss the top of his head and ruffle his hair fondly. His shy smile and the light flush make my situation worse, a fact that the birdman doesn’t miss. I flip him off and he returns it with a wink. The pup’s blush only gets pinker, so I add, “Good boy. You’ll get your reward later.”

I’ve come to terms with the fact that Tilly’s first boyfriend in town wormed his way in and I’m no less a sucker for the Fae than her or Prez. Beside his utter perfection as a submissive, Wolfie calms every member of the household without using his powers, and he takes care of us without batting a lash. The doc swears he’s not a service sub, but I have my doubts.

Since we moved in, he’s reorganized every single space in the house to make sure everyone has their shit. The kitchen is now his domain, and he cooks like a fucking chef most nights, making certain to wrap up plates for anyone that’s late. There’s a piece of furniture in the hall—fuck if I know what it’s called, but he finagled it out of Zelda—where he lines up everyone’s bags, keys, and sundry items for the next morning so no one forgets anything.

Jolene thinks after his adoptive dad died, they forced our pup to become the primary caretaker in the house. Poor Aurelia Fletcher lost her marbles slowly, and Wolfie was only in middle school when it happened, so that makes sense. He must have had to make sure they paid the bills, food was cooked, and everything he needed was laid out just in case she had a bad day. The night Tilly went out with Seer last week for their BFF makeup session before she went out of town, the guys and I got drunk enough to share secrets, so I know he blames himself for having to commit Aurelia when he left for college.

If you ask me, she’s better off there, even if he had to do it because of his oath to the Society. Caring for someone with that many mental health issues is beyond even the strongest supes.

“Too scared to open yours, Boone?” Prez taunts. He’s got a dress shirt, boxers, socks, and a tie—and nothing else. It’s not ridiculous, per se, but it doesn’t tell me a thing about what I’m going to find in my box.

I rake a hand through my hair, noting that the pup hasn’t opened his yet, either. “Fine.” I tear off the tight ribbon holding it closed and when I toss the lid aside, my jaw drops. “Is she fuckingserious? I’m going tokillthat Jameson drinking rave fairy!”

Faint giggles emanate from the bathroom where Tilly shut herself away to get ready. Growling under my breath, I struggle to contain the black and red I know has to be taking over my eyes as I pull each piece of the ensemble out and lay them on the bed. There’s a black corset, thigh-high fishnet stockings, black briefs, a fuckinggarter belt, pearls, and black fingerless gloves. I don’t have the slightest fuckingcluehow to get into this, much less what I’m supposed to be. When I lift the platform heels out of the box, a dark snarl emanates from my chest.

“You’re going to need alotof help,” Doyle snarks, leaning against the doorframe. “I don’t envy the person who gets stuck with that duty.”

Of fuckingcourse,he’d show up right now.

“Don’t worry, Boone. I’m sure Lucy will help you get sorted.” Hamilton winks at me as he hands Haggerty a garment bag and a box.

Pup nods, grinning broadly as he ducks into the bathroom to borrow… something from mydrugar. Doyle saunters over, unzipping his bag to reveal a costume that looksmuchmore normal than mine. Between him and Hamilton, I’m sensing the Irish pixie is teaching me a lesson.

Excellent fucking timing.

I flop onto the bed, throwing an arm over my face as I contemplate the blowback I’m going to get for wearing this shit in public. I don’t give a rat’s ass that it’s women’s clothing, butlingeriewill make Margaret and Pop lose the fucking plot. The it-crowd can get fucked—I stumbled into an annoying, yet perfect support system of my own. Tilly’s ability to shrug off their insults while tossing sharp comebacks of her own is impressive, but the others truly do not give a fuck and make no bones about it. That’s probably why our paths rarely crossed before our girl brought us together; I was still pretending I fit into that viper’s nest out of familiarity.

Wolfie comes out with abucketfull of shit that makes my ass clench. The others laugh when I gape at him, and I snarl in warning, “I may not be used to this shit, but I’m working on it. Give me some goddamned credit.”

“He’s not wrong,” Prez muses. “In a few short weeks, our growly hound has redeemed himself from bullydom, join a family rather than be a rich bachelor asshole, learn new things about his sexuality…”

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