Page 105 of Bad Wolf (Wild Men 4)

“Mom!” Gigi sits up, too, and from the corner of my eye, I see her cheeks flush and eyes shine.

“What, you don’t like him?” Mrs. Watson—Maggie—asks, still looking at me. “And look at what a handsome young man you’ve turned into. Gosh. A fine wolf. Those cheekbones, those eyes, that face. My daughter sure has good taste.”

Unfamiliar warmth seeps into my face. But there’s something soothing about the way she’s looking at me, studying me, something like approval. She’s still smiling, and fuck if I’m not smiling back at her, caught in a spell.

Girls have to be witches where they come from. Beautiful, sweet-talking, kind. I mean, where do you find girls like that in real life? Real life sucks you in, chews on you and spits you out.

But Gigi presses herself to me again, and her arm is still wrapped around me, her mom is still holding my hand, and time seems to have stopped once more.

It keeps happening lately.

Then Maggie pulls back her hand and smooths down her skirt, settling it primly over her knees, and she looks like Gigi in a tarnished mirror, an older version of her, and that sense of déjà vu, of traveling back in time makes another appearance.

And I think, I’d still like her that way. I’d still want her.

I’d still love her.

“Mom, I think Jarett is tired,” Gigi says, and I jerk my gaze back to her. “He’s had a rough day. I thought we’ll just watch some TV and relax, you know?”

“I know, honey.” If anything, Maggie’s smile turns warmer when she directs it at her daughter. “I just wanted to ask Jarett about Becky.”

Of course. They were friends back then. I draw a bracing breath. “Mrs. Lowe—”

“You can call her mom, sweetie.”

I meet Maggie’s kind gaze, and have to drop mine, my heart hammering again. “I… I can’t.”

“Nonsense. Why not?”

“I’m not her son.” There, simple.

“She adopted you.”

“She was going to adopt me,” I correct her. “Then Dad—Mr. Lowe died, and Sebastian dropped out of school, and she got sick, and…” I shrug. “She didn’t finish it. But it’s okay,” I hurry to say, before they think I’m complaining. Because, shit. “Totally fine. Hell, she took me in at an age nobody else wanted me. I could never ask for anything more.”

Now she looks concerned. Dammit. “Jarett, sweetheart—”

“No, really. I’m so damn grateful to her. Excuse my language, Mrs. Watson—”

“Maggie.”

“Maggie, okay. I’ll never forget that they took in someone like me, when they already had a son—”

“Someone like you?” Gigi frowns. “What do you mean? You’re a great guy. There’s nothing wrong with you, Rett.”

“You don’t know,” I choke out.

“Know what?”

“Nothing. It’s just that I was too old. Had a record. They didn’t have to—”

“Rett. Know what?”

“That everyone who takes me in dies.”

Godfuck. And why am I telling Gigi’s mom all this? And Gigi. My heart won’t stop racing, and bile rises in my throat. Stupid, Jarett. I bet they’re already regretting inviting you in. Get out. My heartbeat thumps in my ears. Sweat rolls down my back.

But Gigi somehow holds me down, keeps me from getting up and leaving. “Mom, enough,” she says, her words coming in weird echoes, and that’s when I realize she’s sort of wrapped herself around me, not just one arm anymore but both, her chin resting on my shoulder, one leg thrown over mine. “We’re going to bed.”

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