He stroked her cheek. “How long are you planning on delaying?”
“Until the universe collapses in on itself?” she suggested, and sighed. “Have you met Lainie yet?”
“The mayor’s wife? No. But I’ve heard of her. She’s human, isn’t she? I understand she moved to town a few years ago.”
He mentally ran through what he knew of Lainie Galway and her husband. Harrison had worked as a builder before running for mayor. Technically, he still held both roles, though fatherhood had clearly taken priority. The man had even deputized the task of running strange dragons out of his town to Apollo. Though it could be argued that the hearthfire dragon had more right to that task than the mayor…
“Her dad grew up here.”
Corin frowned. “Her father was a shifter?”
“And she isn’t. She—” Maya bit her lip. “She used to visit here in the summers as a kid. Anon-shifterkid. And the whole town kept the truth about magic secret from her. Even her own parents and grandparents.”
“What possible reason could they have for that?” he growled.
“Hideaway Cove was established as a sanctuary for shifters. For generations, the people who lived here assumed the only way to keep themselves safe was to exclude any non-shifters. Even ones related to them. Lainie’s dad married her mom, who wasn’t a shifter, and when she was born, they told him that she couldn’t know the truth about Hideaway until she proved she was a shifter. And she wasn’t.”
“She never knew her own family were shifters?”
“Fucked up, right?” She grimaced. “About as fucked up as not telling someone their own grandkid is magic, even.”
He lowered his forehead to press against hers. “You are one woman, trying to figure out how to tell her mother that the worldshe knows is not the world that really exists. Not a town of adults lying to a child.”
“I know. But … it’s still not the right thing to do.”
He frowned, considering everything he knew about Gabriela. About the woman who’d raised his intelligent, observant mate. “You’re sure she doesn’t know already?
“I made very sure she wouldn’t. Which makes me as bad as Lainie’s grandparents, probably.”
He shook his head wordlessly. “How much time did she spend with Tomás?”
“So much.” Her face softened. “As much as she could, before and after work, weekends. I think she figured he’s the one grandchild she’s likely to ever have, so she’d better make the most of him. But after he started turning into a dragon—I—I … I still couldn’t tell her. As though the existence of magic was another embarrassing aspect of the whole messy ordeal.”
“She judged you for having him?”
“No?” She frowned. “That sounded like a question. No. She never did. She was always supportive.” She looked thoughtful. “She raised me by herself. Did you know that? I don’t even remember my dad. She moved across the country with him after they got married. Away from family. And after we lost him…”
“She didn’t go back after he passed?”
“And ask for help, like she couldn’t cope on her own or something? We don’t do that. We manage. She managed, and now I’m managing.” She laughed weakly. “And I never talked to her aboutanyof it. Her life, or … or mine.” She hesitated, her expression caught between exasperation and exhaustion. “And she never asked. I guess it wasn’t just you and your granddad who made me the perfect assistant. We’ve never been aquestion askingfamily.”
“You merely drag the world into order, so that no questions need to be asked because everything is already arranged,” he said dryly.
“Exactly. God. Am I that transparent? But … I didn’t let her look after him by herself after that. She must have known I was freaking out, and the way she tried to help me through that was—”
“By not asking questions about what was worrying you?”
Maya hiccupped a laugh. “No wondering where I got it, right? Yes. Don’t ask questions, just figure it out and get on with things. She tried to help by beingmorepresent, and I kept trying to pull away, and … the last thing I let her do for me was pack up my apartment and send stuff to me here. And then I was gone.” Grief creased her face.
“And now she’s here.”
“And now she’s here,” she repeated. “I should be happy and, instead, I feel like everything’s falling to pieces in my hands again. And something’s worrying her, too. She wants to tell me but it’s taking her ages to work her way up to it, which means it’s important, so what if Idotell her about shifters and then she doesn’t tell me whatever’s wrong with her because I’ve turned her whole world upside down, and then it’s something serious and … Don’t look at me like that. I know I’m overthinking it.”
“You’re spiraling,” he said gently.
“Spiraling is one of my top skills.”
He kissed her gently. “Tell her tomorrow,” he suggested. “And then ask her what’s bothering her.”
