Page 67 of The Beta's Heart

My body now my own again, I stared at the box for a moment before getting up and heading to the shower, a tiny spark of hope kindling my chest.

Maybe River was right. Maybe todaywouldbe special.

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It started off that way, at least.

When I walked into the kitchen for breakfast, all of the kids had on silly cone hats and blew into paper party horns while screaming,Happy Birthday, Beta Ty!in the link.

“Thank you all so much!”

Going around the table, I gave each of the boys a high five or fist bump, then hunkered down next to Honor’s chair and held out my arms. She jumped into them, then kissed my cheek.

“I love you a bushel and a peck and a hug around the neck!” she sang in her sweet little girl voice.

“Aw, I love you, too,” I murmured in her ear. “You’re my best girl.”

“Until you find your mate,” she said as she released me and climbed back in her chair. “Thenshe’llbe your best girl. Mama says you might find her today. That makes me happy for you, but I’m also sad. You’ll move out of the O, and I won’t see you anymore.”

“Well, I was always going to move out.” I laid my hand on top of her head. “Now that I’m eighteen, I’m officially an adult and can live on my own in the packhouse. We talked about this, remember?”

“Yes, but I knew I would still see you around, and you said you’d stop and visit us.” Her bottom lip popped out. “If you find yourmate, though, you’ll be so busy with her, you’ll forget all about me. About all of us.”

“No, I won’t.” I gave her a soft smile. “I’ll come around to see you. I’ll even bring my mate along to meet you. How does that sound?”

“Okay! I hope your mate is as pretty as you are, Beta Ty.” Her big innocent eyes melted my heart like butter on a biscuit.

“Thank you, Honor.”

As we sat at the table, each of the kids were eager to give me a card that they had made. Dawson and Sawyer Nelson, Charlie’s eight-year-old twins, had worked together to draw a picture of River on the front of their plain white card. Kids always like to play with River, and he liked to play with them just as much. The orphans always felt special because he lived with them.

Little Honor’s card had a unicorn, of course, only her drawing looked like a deflated giraffe with a nail coming out of his head. Still, the way she took the time to color it with stripes of silver and purple glitter told me she’d put her heart into the effort.

Next up were Zach and Austin Johnstone. They were brothers and hadn’t been eligible for adoption because their father was technically still alive, but David Johnstone was no longer David Johnstone. Zach and Austin walked over to the pack’s care facility to visit with him every day after school, but even as young as they were, I reckoned they were aware that their father was never coming back.

They were good boys, helping Charlie with cooking and cleaning without even being asked, and enjoyed going fishing with anyone heading towards the lake, so it was no surprise to see that they had drawn a rainbow trout on their card and written, “Hope you hook your mate,” which made me chuckle.

And finally there was Rook Harrison.

Nine years ago, a baby boy was left alone on the boundary line of Great Rocks. The border patrol had been hesitant to touch him at first since he didn’t smell like anything. Not wolf, not fox, not bird, not even human. Nathan Barlow, who was the pack’s alpha at the time, could have sent him elsewhere or even put him down since no one knew if he would grow up to be a threat, but instead Mr. Barlow found foster parents, who gave the baby a name and raised him with their own pups until they died in the sickness.

Over the years, Mr. Barlow brought in experts to try and figure out what Rook was, but never had any luck. One thing I knew for sure, he wasn’t a magic user. I’d always had a special nose for witches and could smell them a mile away, even under a shield, and I didn’t smell an ember of magic in him. Still, there was something about the kid, something you couldn’t quite put your finger on, but enough to knowthat handing him over to the human foster care system would have been areallybad idea.

On the card he’d made for me, Rook had used a black pen to draw intricate patterns inside the outlines of a number one and a number eight. It was quite beautiful, and I thanked him with a smile.

“It’s called Zentangle,” he informed me gravely, reminding me of Wesley Barlow, who was his best friend. “We learned how to do it in art class this year.”

“It looks like you became an expert at it.”

“It’s something to do,” he shrugged, “and it calms me down when I’m upset.”

“Then I’m glad you found something that helps you like that.”

By the time I was finished with the cards, Charlie had breakfast on the table, and we all ate and chatted together, the five boys telling me about their plans for the day while Honor kept glancing over at her mother and giggling.

She’s giving it away,Charlie bemoaned in the link.My baby can’t keep a secret.

I’ll act surprised,I promised,but tell me it’s not cake at eight in the morning. I’ll be on a sugar high all day!

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