Page 103 of Lavender and Lightning

A muscle in Rhett’s jaw twitches, but I merely roll my eyes. “Caleb’s just my security detail. And I’m pretty sure his mate would claw my eyes out if I tried to move in on the father of her child,” I say pointedly.

Jason laughs, but I notice the shift in his face, the slight relaxing around his eyes. After spending our whole lives together, I know that’s respect in his eyes, the change in attitude as he realizes that this pack has actually kept their word to protect me. Rhett shifts on his feet, his hand coming to rest on my lower back.

“Let’s get this over with. We have a lot to discuss,” he says, tone never wavering from polite and pleasant.

Jason nods, then heads off toward the front door. Lucas kisses my cheek before leaning in my ear. “He’s cute. Too bad,” he whispers.

I elbow him hard in the gut, making him laugh before he wanders off to stand with Caleb. Rhett gives me a questioning look, but I just shake my head. We can deal with Lucas later.

By the time the last ‘i’ is dotted and ‘t’ is crossed, my head is pounding. I’d expected there to be a not-insignificant amount of money in my trust, but I wasn’t expecting it to be nearly eight figures. Jason teased me that I always was MawMaw’s favorite, but I could tell he hadn’t been expecting there to be that much in the account either. It’s no wonder then that my mother was trying to get her hands on my money. But it’s too late now. The transfer process has started and by the time she realizes what has happened, it will be irreversible.

We finish saying goodbye to the teller just as the church bells ring out the hour. My face hurts from all the forced smiling I’ve been doing, and I let it drop as soon as I turn my back on the short, balding beta.

“If I never have to hear the term ‘investment opportunity’ or ‘compound interest,’ it’ll be too soon,” I grumble when we’re out of earshot.

“Aw, come on, Lydi. Accountants have to find the fun somewhere,” Jason says lightly, shoving my shoulder with his own.

I’m about to shove him back when I hear a loud gasp. I look up and I feel the blood drain from my face as my feet come to a sudden stop.

“Oh, my goodness! Lydia Anderson, is that truly you?” a familiar voice crows.

Directly in front of us, and making a beeline in our direction, is a woman I never thought I’d see again: Andrea McLaughlin, Darren’s mother.

She’s hardly changed at all since the last time I saw her, face still smooth and tan in an unsettling, uncanny valley way, as a result of years of Botox and fillers. Her lips are painted a bright berry pink, an exact match to her outdated blazer and pencil skirt set. As she crushes me to her chest, I smell a heavy layer of hairspray and Chanel perfume that only lets a trickle of her pear and moss beta scent through.

“Mrs. McLaughlin. I wasn’t–what a surprise!” I exclaim, pulling back as quick as I can to stop myself from coughing.

“It is! A pleasant one, of course. Though I’m sure your brothers told you we’d be in town,” she says, waving a hand dismissively before clasping them tightly at her waist.

I can hardly look at her face, the muddy brown of her eyes almost an exact match to her son’s. So I look to Jason, asking with my eyes for help. But he seems just as caught off-guard as I am.

“They did not. Does Pastor McLaughlin have an engagement?” I ask, trying to give Jason any excuse to jump in and help me.

Andrea laughs, an ear-piercing trill that brings back memories I thought I’d buried, of years spent in too-hot Sunday school rooms and the sting of a rubber band on my wrist when I’d stumble in my recitations. “You could say that. Samuel Jr. asked my dear husband to officiate the wedding tomorrow. Isn’t that lovely?”

“What a treat. It’s been a while since I’ve heard him do something like that,” I reply, hardly aware of what my brain is sending out of my mouth as I fall back into old, people-pleasing habits.

“I’m sure it has been a while since you’ve heard a preacher, my dear. My son has told me about the trials and tribulations y’all have been going through. I’ve made sure to keep you in my prayers, to help guide you back to where you belong,” she says, dropping her voice and stepping in closer to take my hand.

I want to flinch back, but I can’t do anything except smile blandly and wait. My heart pounds as I try to come up with some sort of response that wouldn’t offend, but nothing in my brain is working. Rhett’s hand on my lower back flexes, his scent shifting to paper and leather.

“Mrs. McLaughlin? Why, you must be Darren’s mother. I’ve heard so much about you,” Rhett says, jumping in at last to catch her extended palm in a shake.

Andrea blinks, startled by Rhett’s sudden and enthusiastic entrance into the conversation. “I am, but I’m terribly sorry. I don’t believe we’ve been introduced.”

“Rhett Cooper, ma’am, Lydia’s new pack mate,” Rhett informs her, and I can’t help but notice how thick his accent has become all of a sudden.

“Pack mate? I… I’m afraid you must be mistaken. I haven’t heard–”

“Well, it seems that news is falling through the cracks left, right, and center. Though I don’t blame you. It did happen rather recently,” Rhett says, laughing at his own joke.

There’s a moment when I think Andrea might try to push, but as someone enters from behind her, the instinct to not cause a public scene that’s bred into every Southern woman takes hold. Her lips tighten into a truly forced smile that looks more like a grimace, and she steps back, adjusting her handbag on her arm.

“Well, that’s just the best news. We all want to belong somewhere, and the Lord guides his flock to where they are most needed.”

Rhett tries to shake her hand again as we’re making our goodbyes, but she skillfully dodges. She gives Jason a slight incline of her dyed-blonde head before moving in to kiss my cheek.

“I would like to take a moment, if you’d be so kind,” she says, taking my hands in a firm grip.

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