“Thank you.” Willow ducked her head, forked a random bite from her plate.
“Would you mind…?” Kelsey didn’t continue until Willow looked up from her plate and nodded her on. “Ezra hasn’t spilled much about you. Well, he did mention you’re an introvert, but that’s about it. I promised not to hit you like a welcoming firehose.”
“The exact words from Kels were,” Ezra said with an amused rumble, “‘Don’t worry, Ez, she’ll hardly even know I like her.’”
Laughter bubbled up in Willow and washed away all reluctance. She could talk about herself if she didn’t have to rehash the last couple days. She couldn’t explain how, but her entire body and soul felt safe at this table. She didn’t have to worry about disappointing them with who she was. She didn’t have to brace herself for Ezra to talk on her behalf. It was what her family did, what various boyfriends had done, when she couldn’t keep pace with small talk. But Ezra wouldn’t, and neither would his family. He gave her hand a squeeze under the table as his other hand forked bites of chicken into his mouth. Maybe he could smell security too.
“Well, I’m twenty-three, and I’m a barista at the café in town, and I’ve been paying off my undergrad student debt, but…I don’t know what’s going to happen now.”
So much for avoiding the last couple days.
“What did you study?” Sydney said, her first gesture toward really acknowledging Willow at the family table.
“Bachelor’s of Library Science. I’ve been living at home to pay it off as soon as possible, so I could go back to school for my Master’s. But that’s all on hold now, I guess.”
Sydney studied her. “You think it’s permanent? The ostracizing?”
“Oh yeah. If I want to be accepted back, I’ve got to…” She couldn’t say the words. She shook her head as the resolve from yesterday rose in her again. “But I won’t do it. Ezra is my wolf.”
From every wolf at the table came a low approving rumble. Trevor’s kept on when the other wolf voices faded. No one seemed to find his prolonged vocalizing odd, so maybe it was a Trevor quirk.
“What’ll you do then?” Sydney said.
Willow fidgeted on the bench, shrugged. “I don’t know. My paychecks might cover an economy hotel or something, if my savings won’t cover approval for an apartment lease.”
“Not a chance,” Ann said.
“I can’t just move in with y’all indefinitely. I’m not pack.”
The Sterling matriarch made a meditative sound, not unlike a growl of her own. “You let me work on this.”
Ezra gave her hand another squeeze. A signal? Nobody argues with Ann’s hospitality? Well, all right. Willow didn’t have the luxury of pride or refusal, but she knew their customs too—this one anyway. The unconditional support pack offered one another was not offered to outsiders.
The family lingered at the table, chatting and listening, everyone taking part, even Willow. At last Ezra bumped her arm with his.
“More wolves to meet, if you’re ready.”
Any leftover hesitation had departed while she ate with the Sterlings. She bumped his arm back. “Ready.”
Eighteen
Theafternoonwasalot. The wolves and their mates and pups were a lot. But with every new introduction, Willow’s body grew calm a little faster, and meeting the eyes of a new wolf became a little easier.
She hoped she’d be able to keep track of all their names….
Rhett Jones, a single wolf who said little but studied her plenty. She couldn’t quite get a read on him, but she was able to acclimate to his gaze as easily as to the others.
Jeremy and Lucy Freeman and their young kids, Zane, Callie, Tori, and Gigi. Lucy was the spectacled woman with burgundy-dyed hair, Gigi the toddler who had dashed past Willow when she first arrived.
Patrick and Nicole Corrigan, Nathan’s folks.
Corbin Daye, a smirking young wolf who managed to be warm, welcoming, and a little flirty all at once, though nothing over the line.
Arlo and Rebecca Chapman, elders of the pack who operated an expansive farm at the end of Lunar Lane. Ezra said most of the pack’s produce was the harvest of the Chapmans’ labor.
Aaron’s mate Ember and her nephew Quinn, whom they’d recently adopted…sort of. Willow tried to squelch her curiosity at this, but Ezra smelled her questions or guessed them. Quietly he explained that for first-generation wolf pups, a precedent had been set in the court system that granted custody to an adult within a wolf pack until the pup turned eighteen. In Quinn’s case, the process was expedited by Ember’s biological relationship to Quinn.
So a wolf was considered safe enough to raise one of his own kind, but not safe enough to raise a child without his DNA. That wasn’t even slightly rational, but Willow held her peace. Venting her outrage here wouldn’t help anyone.
