I turned languidly in bed, then slow-blinked my eyes open. When the oversized pink blooms on my wallpaper came into focus, I smiled. Definitely not Niall. I rolled up, regretting it instantly when a dull throb erupted at the back of my skull and in my knee joint.
Yesterday slotted back into place—Bea’s cabin, Adalyn’s intervention, Grant’s ambush, my limp of shame home.
Sighing, I flung the covers off my legs and stretched. Once my knee felt less stiff, I wiggled into yesterday’s skinny jeans, snapped on my bra, then delicately finger-combed my hair to avoid tugging on the tender skin. After a trip to the bathroom, I pulled on my graphic wolf tee that had grown as soft as tissue paper from its many cycles through our washing machine and dabbed a little makeup on the ugly bruise spanning my entire temple. At least, the swelling had resorbed itself.
When I came downstairs, I heard voices in the kitchen and a series of little squeaks. Storm was apparently in attendance but was Liam? Trying to quiet my hammering pulse before the walls of our house began shaking, I eased into the kitchen. Dad stood by the stove in hisMr. Good Lookin’ Is Cookin’apron beside Mom, who was pressing oranges, while Liam sat at the island with Storm on his lap.
“Morning.” I walked over to my parents and kissed their cheeks. “Smelled Dad’s bacon all the way down in the valley, Liam?”
I caught him eyeing my knee. Here I’d thought my gait was kind of fluid, but I guessed I was projecting the reality I wanted instead of the actual one.
“I was dropping off Storm when your father offered breakfast.” He pinched a piece of banana and handed it to his son, who turned it to mush before stuffing it inside his mouth. “How’s your head?”
“Great.”
Mom parted my long hair with her citrus-scented fingers as though to confirm I wasn’t fibbing.
“Satisfied?” I glanced over my shoulder.
“I am now.” She smiled, but it didn’t reach her eyes. There were as many layers to her worry as there were to the onion Dad was slicing.
After I filled a mug with coffee, I went to sit beside Liam. “Is Lucas coming over?”
Storm flapped his arms excitedly and shot me a crooked grin trimmed in smashed fruit, which I returned.
“I’m letting him rest this morning. He spent the night at Lori’s.”
“Who’s with her now?”
“Avery.”
“Where’s Nate?”
“Upstairs.” Mom tipped her face toward the ceiling as though she could somehow spot him through the timbered wood. “In his old bedroom. Came over after midnight.”
“Did you guys manage to sleep?”
“Sleep’s overrated at our age.” Dad plated a mountain of golden bacon.
“Are all my brothers coming over for breakfast?”
“Who knows?” Mom smiled, a hopeful glimmer in her tired eyes. “At least if they show up, they’ll be fed.”
Dad slotted the plate between Liam and myself. Storm launched himself toward it, but Liam caught him just before he could seize some crispy loot.
Mom laughed. “No bacon for you yet, mister.”
Storm blinked at her before desperately trying to access the glistening strips of meat. Liam presented him with another piece of banana. Storm looked between it and the bacon a few times, then, probably worried the fruit would be removed from his grasp, he seized it and stuffed it between his still mostly toothless gums.
Grinning, I filched a piece of bacon and crunched on it. Lycaon, it was good . . . I licked my lips, then my fingertips. “Where are you off to this early, Liam?”
His gaze lifted unhurriedly off my mouth, and of course, my mind rewound to another time he’d stared with such heat at it. Had I really promised Adalyn I wouldn’t succumb to his charm?
He repositioned Storm on his lap. “The bunker.”
“Can I come?”
The orange juice machine stopped whirring. “I don’t think that’s a good idea.”
