Page 21 of The Pack Next Door
“No, thanks.” I tried really, really hard not to stare at Briar’s tits as she stood up. Not sure if I managed it as she snatched the chicken from me and started to walk away. “It was nice of you to go on a run with my wolf, but I…” Real pain marred her expression, forcing me to follow after her, wanting to ask why. “I need to get home.”
“So we’ll see you tonight, then?”
Mads shot her a cocky look, making clear he was making a very thorough inspection of her backside.
“What?”
Briar turned around with a frown. The chicken clucked along with her in an act of avian solidarity.
“You and your mum, you’re invited over for dinner tonight.”
She was? Damn Mads for not keeping me informed. We need to get to the supermarket, stat. We’d make her roast chicken, complete with that amazing gravy of Mum’s. I’d ring her and get the recipe. Some potatoes and?—
“We’ll see,” she said, right before she took off.
Something about what Mads said had her scent souring. I wanted to follow her all the way home, peppering her with questions about the food she liked and the kinds of music she’d like playing in the background, when Gideon rose to his feet.
“You invited our fated mate to dinner tonight?” I glared at Mads. “And when were you going to tell me?”
“You’re hearing about it now.” Mads strolled past, slapping me in the stomach. “Last one home gets to clean the house up ready for tonight.”
I took off at a run, chasing after Mads.
Chapter 11
Briar
I knew this feeling well. Walking back home, head hanging down, remembering everything that went down the night before, because once anger had left me, there was only shame left.
Well, that and the memory of waking up beside the pack next door.
I was not going to think about the Whitlock pack.
The temptation was great, because that saved me from remembering the way I spoke to my mother.
A conversation needed to be had about her living situation, but not like that. On the drive back to Moon River, I’d thought about it over and over. Broach the issue with tact. See what she wanted to do and discover whether that was possible. Brainstorm options together. Instead, I… As I reached the back door of Mum’s house, my eyes closed for just a second. I was an arsehole last night.
I was also very, very naked.
I slid inside, grabbing a towel from the bathroom to wrap around me, only to be lured into the kitchen by a delicious smell.
“Morning!” I blinked as Mum hobbled over, pressing a kiss to my cheek. “Did you sleep alright?” She seemed to see the state of me for the first time, smiling at the sight of pine needles and leaves in my hair. “Out in the forest again? You used to sneak out there all the time when you were a teenager.”
“Mum.”
“I made your favourite.” She pulled down two plates and then used the spatula to place several pancakes on each one. “I’ve got lemon and sugar, maple syrup?—”
“Mum.” I took her hand in my spare one and gave it a squeeze. “I wanted to say sorry for last night.”
It was then she finally looked into my eyes.
I hated the fine network of wrinkles around them, the liver spots now dotting her cheeks. I hated the fine tremor in her hand, right before she let go. She was my mother, I was her daughter, and sometimes it felt like we were perpetually caught up in an unequal dynamic. Right now I’d happily go back to her telling me what to do, because I didn’t know what to do when she couldn’t any longer.
“Don’t be.” She waved a hand and then went and turned the heat off on the cooktop. “I mean, you weren’t wrong.” My eyes followed hers as she stared fixedly at a spot on the hall carpet. “It was the scariest moment of my life. Tripped over a wrinkle in the carpet and suddenly…” Her fingers flexed, hovering in the air. “I couldn’t get up. We always joked about old ducks breaking their hips when we were young, but…” Mum looked back at me. “You have no idea how weak you feel when it happens to you.”
She sat down at the breakfast bar and I followed the tracery of maple syrup as she poured it on her pancakes.
“I’m sorry too, darling. When you were growing inside me, I swore I’d never become the kind of mother that meddled.”
