Page 80 of Laurels and Liquor

Jason: Heard. I’ll let him know.

I relay my decision to Rhett and Mateo, who don’t say anything against the idea verbally, but I can feel their worry. We’ve worked hard to get to this point, and last-minute changes have never worked out in our favor in the past. When I give Caleb the address, he only nods and the secondary guard, a burly alpha with curly brown hair and freckles, makes the change in the GPS.

“Honestly, why do we even bother,” Mateo sighs after a minute, a touch of ironic laughter under his words.

“Bother with what?” I ask, confused.

He shakes his head and pushes back some sandy brown locks that fall into his eyes. “Making plans.”

Pulling off the beaten-up country road and into the long gravel driveway that leads to my childhood home sends a chill up my spine. The last time I was here, Darren and I were packing up my car for our trip to the cabin that fateful Christmas just over five years ago. His Jeep had been in the shop, and he’d made pointed remarks about how my beat-up old sedan might not even make it to our destination and how we should have gotten a rental. And as we round the last bend, and the house comes into view, my blood runs a little colder.

I remember the white farmhouse feeling like a palace growing up. It’d been bigger than the houses of almost all the other kids in my school, and I’d felt like a princess trapped in her ivory tower, waiting for a prince to slay the dragon and rescue me. But I’d had to learn that sometimes the prince isn’t all he’s cracked up to be, and the real noble heroes aren’t parading around in the shiny armor their daddy bought them. The house itself looks dingy and cold, in need of a new coat of white paint, a couple of the blue shutters hanging crookedly. There’s no warmth in my chest, no relief of returning to a safe place to rest. I can’t help but compare it to the St. Clair Pack House, with its pale yellow siding and welcoming aura.

“It’s a bit much,” Rhett mumbles as we pull into a place in the wide gravel circle in front of the house.

I smirk. The architect in him would have a lot of critique here. It doesn’t have enough turrets to be declared a McMansion, but Rhett still frowns in disapproval as he exits the car and looks over the exterior with a trained eye. Mateo helps me out on his side, not letting go of my hand as we wait for the other SUV to park and for the rest of our party to exit. Jason jumps out of the back seat like someone hit the release button on an ejector seat, stalking up to the porch steps without pausing to wait for the rest of us. Of course, he’d be eager to be done. The last time he’d been here, he’d been insulted and beaten by our own brother. I scurry after him, dragging Mateo with me, a new sense of urgency in my chest.

Jason doesn’t bother knocking, but opens the unlocked door and strides through the foyer and into the great room beyond. My vision blurs slightly as I take in the décor, noticing not a detail has changed since the last time I was here. Signs with platitudes and Bible verses hang on the walls, mixed in among the framed photos of our family. School pictures, graduation candids, professional family portraits, all perfectly posed to present the image of a solid family unit. A lie, of course, but the illusion was enough to fool visitors.

“Sammy! It’s Jace!” my brother shouts as the hallway opens up into the informal living room.

“In here!” Sammy calls back.

I follow numbly behind Jason until I’m in the open-plan space, my eyes lingering on the long farmhouse dining table I’d spent so many meals at, sitting silent and obedient while the adults talked. The kitchen where I’d learned the skills my mother ruled had been necessary for me to have to be a good wife and mate to my future Alpha. I drag my eyes away toward the collection of couches positioned around the fireplace and television, heart skipping a beat as I see Ally reclining in an overstuffed armchair, feet up on the ottoman, with a blanket covering her remarkably pregnant belly. Sammy is at her side, his green eyes flicking back and forth between me and his wife, like he can’t stand to look away from her for too long or something bad will happen.

“Lydia! You look so good! I’d get up and hug y’all, but they’ve decided to make my life difficult before they’re even born.” Ally laughs, rubbing the top of her bump affectionately.

My mind catches her choice of words, and I quirk a confused eyebrow at her. “They?” I repeat.

Ally beams and nods, her bright blue eyes flashing with pride and affection. “It’s twins! Can you believe it?” she gushes, laughing freely.

I smile at her, and then look at Sammy, who’s looking equal parts nervous and excited. He’s about to be a father to not one, but two children, and he already looks ready to burst from the stress. I let go of Mateo’s hand and cross to him, wrapping my arms around his chest. He’s tall like Jason, so the top of my head only reaches his shoulders, but I can feel the strength he’s acquired from years of hard labor. He tenses for a moment before returning the embrace fiercely.

“Congrats, Sammy. You’ll make a great dad,” I mutter, just loud enough for him to hear.

“I don’t know about all that. I couldn’t even protect my baby sister,” he grumbles.

I pull back and look at him, alarm furrowing my brow. His expression has darkened, and he’s looking at Ally again, but not actually seeing. I take his hand and draw his attention back to me. The dark look in his emerald eyes, the mirror to my own in shape and color, makes my heart ache. My mates are there trying to soothe me, even as they linger at the edges of the room, giving me space.

“I don’t blame you for what happened, Sammy. You know that, right?” I ask, low and emotional.

“I know, but after talking with Jason, I can’t—I didn’t know, Lydia. You have to believe me. If I had—”

As I squeeze his hand, his words die in a cough, and a series of rapid blinks as he looks away. Ally groans as she sits up, and Sammy is at her side instantly, trying to get her to move back. She shoos him away, giving him the stern look only teachers can. She manages to get herself into a sitting position on the edge of the chair cushion, her legs wide enough for her belly to rest between her thighs. If I didn’t know better, I would have thought she was ready to pop at any moment. I step closer as she reaches for my hand, sitting down on the ottoman in front of her. Sammy kneels on the floor at her side, hand rubbing soothing circles on her back.

“Sammy’s been beating himself up for weeks, ever since the wedding. I didn’t see what happened, but I’ll tell you what, I sure as heck got an earful after the fact. Your Momma and I haven’t always gotten along, but I’d never thought her capable of half the horrors Jason’s told us about. I’m so glad you got out and found yourself a pack like that one behind you,” she says emphatically.

I give her a watery smile, and look at Sammy again, who still looks like he’s drowning in a sea of guilt. But I’ve moved past the point of being angry at him. He was a kid, the golden child. He never had to go through what I did, but he had his own set of pressures and expectations to live up to. The only people worthy of blame are Samuel Sr. and Diane. She was the one who would degrade me, make me feel like I was unworthy of love and respect, and he allowed it. Even if he never participated in my abuse, his lack of intervention makes him just as guilty. I can only hope that one day Adam is able to see how toxic and harmful our upbringing was, but until then, and as long as he continues to side with our parents, I can’t begin to forgive him.

But Sammy has seen the light, such as it is, and I can tell by the look on his face, and the sour edge to his normally calm eucalyptus and ginger scent, how hard he’s taken this perceived failing.

“I forgive you, Sam. You may not have been there for me when we were growing up, or when I was trapped with Darren, but you’re here now. That counts for a lot in my book. I’m done living in the past, and I’d like you to do the same,” I say.

My brother looks up at me, eyes glassy with unshed tears. I put a hand on his shoulder and smile. We’ve got a long way to go to build the sort of relationship Jason and I have, but this is a start. And it’s high time we stop letting our parents ruin our relationships with each other. If we’re united against them, then it’s so much harder to control us and keep us obedient. And that’s a very empowering thought, I’d like to think.

I’m about to say as much, but there’s a sudden shift in the air, a tension that ripples outward from the guards by the door like a stone tossed into a still pond. Caleb moves first, responding to some sort of signal, but Jason is right behind him.

“What’s going on?” Lex demands, taking a step toward the door.

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