“No.” Though if Rawling didn’t return, I’d have to finagle an arrangement where I could see the baby regularly. I held back tears because I refused to imagine a future that might not eventuate.
“And youarestarting your internship tomorrow, right?” My father removed his glasses. He’d used his contacts to get me the internship.
“Yes.” Taking a deep breath, I said, “I met my mate.”
“What?”
“So soon? You’re only nineteen.” Father shared a glance with Dad.
Gods, I regretted broaching the subject and wished I could stuff my words back down my throat.
“There’s more.” My voice had risen and was now a squeak. “I mated him, he’s pregnant, and also latent.” I omitted the bit about me marking Rawling without his agreement.
I waited while my folks absorbed the news. They didn’t speak. I wasn’t sure they still could.
“But I love him with my whole heart.”
That pricked the bubble of silence.
“Awww.” Dad hugged me, and then it was my father’s turn.
“I have so many questions, like what’s his name and does he come from a good family?”
I told them and said he was Rawlins Dempsey’s godson.
That name eased the tension a tad.
“I went to school with Rawlins. He was a good man, and I was sorry to hear of his death.” Father got up and searched the bookshelves. “I’m looking for my senior Sombertooth yearbook. But Atticus’s uncle was closer to Rawlins than I was.”
“So why isn’t Rawling here with us? Please tell me he’s not working over the summer or at home by himself?” I could see Dad mentally cooking nutritious meals for my mate and smothering him with love.
Damn, he was making me spill that detail sooner than I’d anticipated. I explained where he was before adding the clincher, “I marked him without permission.”
“Phelan!” Dad stood, and his clenched fists told me he was restraining himself. “We didn’t bring you up to behave like that.”
I held my head in both hands, ashamed at what I’d snatched from Rawling and embarrassed at letting my folks down.
“Get him on the phone right now.”
“Can’t. He won’t answer me.”
Now both my parents were standing, and their horrified expressions told me they weren’t going to forgive me.
“He’s our son-in-law and he’s carrying our grandchild.” Poor Dad burst into tears. My parents hugged, and I felt like such a loser. I’d hurt everyone, and my wolf was also on Team Rawling.
Dad blew his nose. “I love you, but I don’t like what you did. You need to make this right.”
But how could I when my mate wouldn’t respond? My father suggested sending a photo of the three of us and just adding, “With love.”
Dad argued we should say, “Welcome to the family,” but I disagreed, because that might do the opposite of what we intended.
“Once again, he might feel forced into conforming to our rules.” Rawling had already been brought into a world at Sombertooth where he was inferior. “That might signal that we’re taking away his agency.”
Father grabbed me, and Dad got on the other side. I took a selfie, but deleted it and snapped another one. Twenty pics and nineteen deleted pics later, we had one that we all liked, and I added the “with love” caption and sent it.
It was delivered, but there was no reply. Dad hugged me and suggested we send Rawling a food delivery, but I vetoed that. If he was wary of me and my actions, having my family bombard him with fruit and vegetables might send him spinning. He needed time to absorb what had happened and hopefully forgive me.
But that wasn’t guaranteed.
