“Long story, but he left me more than enough to live on. I wouldn’t take your filthy money anyway, Atticus.” Rawling dismissed everyone with a flick of his fingers.
“I think we should take a break.” Phelan was shooing everyone out of the room when Father said, “Rawling is the older twin, so he would have gotten the majority of the inheritance if we’d kept him. That’s how it’s always worked in my family.”
Fuck that, my world was falling apart.
TWENTY-ONE
RAWLING
“My niece is the cutest thing ever.”
Jack was leaning over Eira, having claimed the title of the fun aunt. Not that our daughter had any aunts on Phelan’s side of the family, because he had two brothers and no sisters.
I took a deep breath and let it out because I refused to let my mind gothere. But it did anyway. Damn. Atticus was an only child, a fact he’d proclaimed loud and long during the first semester I was here. And he’d used it as a cudgel since whatever passed as a “welcome back to the family” event.
Who knew how many other children his parents had carted off to orphanages around the country?
“And you’re her one and only aunt.” Jack side-eyed me. “Fine.” I made a pukey face. “That we know of.” I poked my tongue out at her.
“Gotta go.” She kissed Eira and me. “Knox is being extra needy.” She rolled her eyes. “Says he’s hardly seen me since Eira’s birth.”
“It’s only been ten days.”
She shrugged and tore out the door, saying she planned to shift later. I was so excited she’d found her beast. There was an aura of strength about Jack today, and her eyes glittered withwhat I deemed history. She possessed the stories of bear shifters going back generations. If my friend was fierce previously, now she was formidable.
I picked Eira up and held her to my chest as she yawned and closed her eyes. How I wished I could stop time. With the birth behind me and our daughter safe in my arms, my mate and I were relishing these early days of parenthood. And I hadn’t laid eyes on Atticus in a few days.
Phelan had caught him lurking outside the infirmary and told him I didn’t want to see him. But privately, my mate had put forward the theory that Atticus was the asswipe he was because he and I had been separated so soon after birth. He reminded me of the TV series we watched where one twin cried non-stop when their sibling was in surgery and only calmed when they were side by side.
I’d wept when he said that. Damned hormones. I wasn’t responsible for whathisparents did to us. I’d hit the jackpot, but Atticus was mired in a traditional, old-world shifter household.
When I was attending classes again, I’d what? Try and talk to him? Nah, I didn’t need abuse hurled at me. What he needed was therapy, but shifters tended to veer away from that. And after meeting his folks, gods, no wonder he turned out the way he was.
Apparently he glared at Jack whenever he saw her, because while he’d recovered from his limp, the scar would never fade. But she responded by showing her bear in her gaze, and he shriveled.
Now that I was alone with Eira, and she’d been fed and burped and was sleeping, my mind went, not to Atticus but to Rawlins. Why hadn’t he told me I was adopted? And did that make Charlie and Arnie my adopted parents? I had so many questions, and even though I knew where I’d come from, I couldn’t fathom my name, Blakesley. Who else was a Blakesley other than me?
I sniffed and tears spilled onto my little girl. Before the birth, I’d told myself I had a new family. Phelan, the baby inside me, his folks and siblings. But now, even though I’d discovered my birth family, I still felt adrift.
While I hadn’t expressed this to my mate, I wondered if Peregrine and Corvin had suspected I was a hunter. But why would they think that? Hunters, as far as my research told me, didn't have a specific scent.
I waited, expecting to hearthatvoice, but while the baby’s voice mostly silenced it during pregnancy, there had been nothing since. And with Eira here, what I assumed was her voice had also gone silent.
But Phelan, while unable to explain what I referred to as the bad voice, told me we could get back to living our lives, though I was on tenterhooks, waiting for it to return. And what was even more frightening was what if Eira was a hunter? Phelan and his family were convinced she was a shifter, and I asked the goddess to make it so.
Phelan
I was braced against the headboard with one arm around Rawling while our daughter slept between us. She should be in her crib. Mrs. Ardilla had told us that a few times when she found Eira on the bed with us. But Mrs. Ardilla was from a different generation, and while we prioritized our daughter’s safety and she always slept there at night, while we were both here and awake, we wanted her with us.
My mate was propped against my chest and we were both studying the miracle that was our daughter. Eira was clutching Rawling’s sleep pants with her tiny fist. Just as he had refused tobe apart from her the last week or so, she clung to him, knowing that he belonged to her.
“Oh, look. She makes that face just before she wakes up,” my mate said.
Seconds later, our daughter opened her eyes and yawned. She glanced at us as if to say, “Yes, you may serve my lunch now.”
I picked her up, and she snuggled into my chest. Maybe I’d misread the message because she didn’t fuss or want a feed, but closed her eyes again.
Much as I didn’t want to disturb our bonding time, we needed to get ready for the onslaught, as I had coined it. My folks were still staying close by and visited every day. They wanted to see their granddaughter, but they were also insistent that we hire someone, while Rawling and I believed we could juggle classes and raise our daughter.
