“So,” she said, steepling her fingers. “Jonas tells us you’re from Georgia. How does a girl from so far away end up in a place like this?”
Aspen met her gaze, not blinking. “It’s a long story, ma’am. But I like it here. It feels like home.”
“Does it?” Mom’s mouth curled at the corners. “How sweet. I hope you’ll find it welcoming. Small towns can be… insular, you know.”
I felt Aspen bristle. “I haven’t had any trouble,” she said. “People here are good. Loyal.”
Jacob gave a slow clap. “She even talks like one of us. Impressive.”
My father, who’d been watching the show with a lawyer’s interest, jumped in. “So how did you two meet? You know, your mother and I met at a fundraiser. Her folks said it was love at first sight, but I had to wear her down. Jonas never was one for the slow approach.”
I looked at Aspen, letting her answer if she wanted to.
She said, “He came into my bakery to ask about a cake for Bronc and Juliet’s mating ceremony. We just hit it off I guess.”
Mom made a sound that might have been a laugh, or a cough. “That’s our Jonas. Always on the lookout for a good woman. Even as a child, he brought home strays.”
This time, I did squeeze Aspen’s hand under the table. She squeezed back, harder.
Pearl delivered our food—steak for Jacob and Dad, a chicken fried for me, meatloaf for Aspen. Oscar poked his head out to sniff at the mashed potatoes, but I nudged him back in before anyone else noticed.
For a minute, the conversation drifted to pack business and the upcoming ceremony for Bronc and Juliet. My father wanted to know how many guests to expect, whether the local wolves could handle security, and if the humans would be a problem.Jacob asked about the music and whether the open bar was still a thing.
It was almost normal until Mom shifted gears, eyes back on Aspen.
“So Aspen. How is it you, a witch, happened to become mated to my son, a wolf? Isn’t that terribly unusual? It just really doesn’t happen? I mean and seriously, dear. Look at my son. I could understand it if it were Arsenal, or Doc, but clearly, the only thing my son truly had to offer was a very hefty trust fund and bank account. You don’t expect me to believe that didn’t play a huge part in your wanting to tie yourself to Jonas for the rest of your life. I mean, you never have to worry about anything now.”
She said it with the smile of a woman who’d spent a lifetime getting away with murder. The air in the room crystallized.
I waited for Aspen to answer.
She took a breath and set her fork on the edge of the plate, each movement so deliberate it felt like time had slowed just for her. Her cheeks were fire-red, but her voice didn’t shake. She sat up straight, squared her shoulders, and leveled a stare at my mother that would’ve cracked granite.
“Let me tell you something, lady,” Aspen said. “I will not sit here while you insult, demean, and otherwise tell such despicable lies about my mate. To insinuate that I could only be interested in him because he has some kind of trust fund, which right this moment is the first I’ve heard of it, by the way, is to take away every amazing and wonderful thing about this man there is to know.”
She pushed her plate gently away, hands folded, and leaned forward so every word hit my mother head-on. “You discounted his kindness, his gentleness, his heart, his amazing beauty that yes, he wears on the outside as well as the inside. Beauty that you clearly do not see, because you have no idea who he is. Heis my shelter from the storms, my peace when I am troubled, he is laughter when I’m feeling down, and comfort when I’m alone. He is my anchor when I feel like I’m drifting out on unknown seas, and the only person I have ever known who has made me feel like I am enough. So you are the one, Mrs. Rice, who does not know who your son is, and it is you who owes him and me an apology.”
She finished, voice ringing out through the sudden hush. Every head in the dining room had turned; even the dartboard shut up for a second. My mother sat frozen, lips parted, like she’d never in her life been spoken to that way.
And me? I thought I might explode with pride. My chest swelled until I thought it’d split the buttons on my shirt, and the mate bond between us roared so fiercely I nearly started howling in the middle of Pearl’s Bar & Grill.
Oscar poked his head out of the purse and gave a tiny, dignified “Hear, hear!” before ducking back in.
My father gaped for a heartbeat, then started to laugh—really laugh, belly-deep and wheezing. “She’s got you dead to rights, honey,” he said, clapping my mother on the back so hard her pearls rattled. “Maybe now you’ll let the boy live his life for once.”
Jacob just whistled, low and impressed. “Damn, JT you sure know how to pick ‘em.”
Pearl appeared at my elbow, the tray of biscuits suddenly replenished. She leaned in, grinning, and whispered, “Never thought I’d see anyone give Juliet a run for her money.”
For the first time in my life, I watched my mother blush. She looked at Aspen, really looked, and for a second I thought she might snap back with something cold or cruel. But all the ice had melted. She sat back, hands limp in her lap, and shook her head.
“I… suppose I was out of line,” she said. “That was—well, it was quite a speech.”
Aspen nodded once, firm. “It wasn’t a speech, ma’am. It was, every word, the truth. I just don’t think you’ve seen past your son’s scars for some time. I wanted you to realize that there are many of us who do.”
I squeezed Aspen’s hand under the table, and this time, she squeezed back. Hard.
Nobody spoke for a long minute, but it wasn’t the old, angry silence. It was something else—acceptance, maybe, or at least mutual respect. The food tasted better after that. The whole table seemed lighter. My mother even asked Aspen about the wedding cake for Bronc and Juliet, and didn’t even flinch when Aspen told her she used real vanilla instead of extract.
