“I was there six months ago!”
I visited my Scottish grandparents twice a year.
“Exactly.”
Then he turned to Lachlan and gave him the same chiropractic embrace.
My shoulders dropped from my ears, warmth unfurling in my chest as I relaxed with my family.
We ate, laughed, and traded stories. Uncle Andrew complimented Lachlan on how much he had improved his ‘catapults,’ then explained how he and Mom had been forced to mask their scents at the arena so Dad wouldn’t go full berserk mode. From time to time, those two still teamed up just to irk him. Like old times.
“So,” Uncle Andrew said between mouthfuls of pork and gravy, “I hear you’redating, niece.”
Here we go again.
Privacy, in our family, was as mythical as a unicorn. When Sillas was my NMWB, nobody cared. The moment I decided to grab a drink with him? Tabloid news.
“Who’s the probable dead wolf? Does he play wereball?” According to him, a wolf who didn’t play wereball wasn’t good enough.
“It’s just Sillas Wilder, Uncle.”
“Yeah, she likes aLucienfrom Dark Diamond more,” Amaia piped up.
The table went dead silent.
I knew I shouldn’t have told Amaia anything.
“We’re just phone friends!” I held up my hands as if to fend off the conversation. “And he’s clearly not on their main wereball team, since none of you know him. So chill. Nothing to worry about.”
Tiziano slammed his palm onto the table. Amaia startled.
“He’s from Dark Diamond?” he yelled. “You conveniently left that part out when you brought him up!”
“Does he know that you’re my sister?” Lachlan joined the tips of his fingers together. Although he appeared calm on the outside, I knew he was brewing with fury on the inside.
I pinched the bridge of my nose, very much like Dad had earlier. “No, he’s never mentioned your name.”
And I’m not going to tell him.
“Ordering you a new phone now!” Tiziano barked, waving his screen in front of me, an Amazon page showing a list of phones on it.
“This smells like tuna. Why the hell would he talk to a girl he’s never met?” Lachlan added. “Either he’s Dark Diamond’s greatest virgin nerd, or he’s plotting something.”
“The phrase is, ‘It’s fishy,’” Amaia corrected.
“We’re kind of like online pen pals,” I joked.
Nobody laughed.
“What does he even do if he doesn’t play wereball? Don’t tell me he plays that sport for humans! You know?” Uncle Andrew stabbed his pork chop and pointed it at Lachlan. “The one where they make you chase a ball for ninety minutes?”
“Soccer,” Amaia said flatly.
“And you, Amaia?” Uncle Andrew turned to her with a grin, letting me off the hook for the time being. “Found yourself a hot surgeon yet?”
“No one’s smart enough for our girl here.” Lachlan’s lips curved into a smile as he slung an arm around her shoulders.
Is she blushing?
