It’s awkward in a way that makes my skin prickle.
There’s a brief pause, a beat where neither of them seems quite sure what the other expects. Renee leans in and gives Tansy a light kiss on the cheek, careful and distant, like they’re casual acquaintances greeting each other instead of mother and daughter.
Tansy mirrors it, polite and restrained, her smile tense but staying in place.
I notice the way her fingers curl into the fabric of her lavender dress at her side, knuckles whitening. She doesn’t look at Cass or me. Her gaze drops, breaking eye contact with everyone at once.
And then there’s Ken.
He doesn’t come closer. He stays where he is, a few steps back, hands tucked into his pockets. He watches with an easy smile fixed on his face. “This is a nice house you’ve got here, Tansy,” he says, tone warm and smooth.
The air around her changes. Not fear exactly. But more like absence. Like a trapped animal that’s accepted their fate in the face of a predator.
“Thanks,” she whispers to her feet.
That’s it.
There are no tears. No tight hugs or cries of relief.
I glance at Warren, and he’s already looking at me. His jaw tightens a fraction, eyes sharp on Ken like he’s clocked the same thing I have.
Something’s definitely wrong.
Awkward Dinner
Tansy
I sitat the long dining room table, staring at the impressive span of wood, from one side of the room to the other. Grason added panels earlier today, extending the table until it feels more like a conference setup than a place to eat, but everyone fits with plenty of room to spare.
Cass sits at the head of the table, solid and composed.
Dad takes the chair on one side of him, and I’m on the other. My family lines up next to my dad, all four of them in a neat row. William, Daniel, Ken, then Mom. My pack fills the opposite side. Me, Warren, Beck, then Gray.
I tell myself I’m safe. I tell myself I’m surrounded by my pack, that nothing bad can happen here. I repeat it like a mantra, even though my body refuses to believe it.
Dinner starts, and the awkwardness settles in almost immediately.
I keep my fork moving and my eyes down, too overwhelmed to even look up.
This was a horrible idea.
Cass talks easily with Dad and Pop, the conversation staying firmly in safe territory. They talk about Cass’s local businesses. Mostly the bars. Dad listens like a pack alpha assessing another one, attentive and serious. Pop asks smart follow-up questions, nodding along as if he has any clue what he’s talking about. He doesn’t.
He was a safety inspector before he retired.
I try to anchor myself in the normalcy humming around me. The scrape of cutlery, the low hum of voices, and Cass’s presence at the head of the table.
At the other end of the table, Beck is trying his hardest.
He leans toward Mom with a bright smile, asking questions, filling the space with chatter that’s just a little too eager. She responds with clipped politeness, short answers, her attention drifting away almost immediately after each one.
Beck doesn’t seem to notice how rude she is, or maybe he’s pretending not to.
Warren and Grason stay quiet for the most part.
They eat slowly, watching Dad with a focus that makes my shoulders tense. Grason barely speaks at all, his gaze sharpens every time Beck’s voice pitches higher. Warren’s expression is neutral, but his attention never leaves my mother for long. I can feel the judgment coming off them in waves.
I know what they’re thinking.
