I nodded to the four men and went directly for the liquor cabinet without saying a word to any of them. I poured myself a glass of scotch, tossed it back, and then filled my glass again. This was going to take a few drinks.
When I turned back around, everyone in the room was staring at me. I walked over and flopped down in the only available seat. “I guess I know why you’re all here.”
“I asked them here,” Shade said. “I didn’t tell them why.”
Fucking perfect.
I took a sip of my scotch to bolster myself. I was basically giving away a secret that wasn’t mine to give. Sinclair was going to kill me.
“Sinclair is my mate.”
Silence.
I glanced up. One of the three men staring at me was smiling.
The human one.
The rest were looking at me as if I had lost my ever-loving mind.
Maybe I had.
“I haven’t claimed him because I can’t.” My chest tightened as an old anguish welled up inside of me. “I’m the reason he’s in that wheelchair.”
The questions started coming fast and loudly.
“What in the hell do you mean?”
“What does that have to do with claiming him?”
“Why didn’t you say that on the phone?”
“How could you be responsible for him being paralyzed?”
“What do you mean you’re responsible?”
“Is there any more of that scotch?”
“Do you want to hold my cat?”
That one got me. I slowly panned to Bob.
He shrugged. “You looked like you needed to feel better and I always feel better when I hold Mustachio.”
I sent Bob a smile. “Thank you, but no.”
“Stone,” Shade called out, pulling my attention away from the man’s mate, “have you not claimed Sinclair because he’s paralyzed, or because of what we talked about earlier?”
“A little of both, actually.”
Shade just stared at me, not saying anything more, as if waiting for me to fill in the blanks. I knew I had to say something. I just had to decide how much to say.
“My situation isn’t too much different than yours, Shade, except I didn’t discover that Sinclair was my mate until after I pulled the trigger.”
“Oh shit!”
“Fuck me!”
“Dude!”
