17
RAFF
I'd faced down defensemen twice my size, but pulling into my parents' driveway with my fated mate and my seven-year-old nephew in the car had my belly in knots, and not the good kind of knot.
Thorne had been quiet for most of the drive. He kept smoothing the front of his shirt and checking his reflection in the visor mirror. I’d already told him twice he looked fine.
“They're going to love you.” They would, my folks would be beyond happy at meeting Thorne and Rupert.
“My dad will feed you and ask if you enjoy gardening. Pop will pepper you with questions about your job and how we met.”
Rupert was in the back seat with the flamingo on his lap, and he’d talked the entire drive. He’d chatted about school, the passing scenery, and asked questions about me and Bodie’s life growing up. But his most insistent of queries was about shifters.
Where did they come from?
How did you know you were a shifter?
Are some of my friends shifters?
Thorne had instructed him this was a secret, so any of his schoolmates wouldn’t talk about beasts in their family. Until he was an adolescent, any shifters who encountered Rupert would treat him as human, which he might be.
“Will you and your parents shift for me?”
I couldn’t speak on my parents’ behalf, only for myself.
“They might if you ask politely, but I will.”
He squealed, and Thorne stuck his fingers in his ears.
When I pulled into the driveway, Dad shot out of the house with Pop at his heels. Rupert didn’t wait for me to turn off the car, and he leaped out and threw himself into Dad’s arms.
I couldn’t move. My tears came first, followed by sobs. My vision blurred, and I wept at Dad clutching Rupert and Pop with his arms around both of them. Thorne grabbed my arm as he bent his head and peered past me. His body shook, and he clung to me and cried.
We experienced joy and sadness and grief that was so devastating, it left a mark on all of us.
Rupert recovered first, and a stream of words left his mouth. Pop put an arm around him and told him they would shift later but first he and Dad had to meet Thorne.
I held my mate’s sweaty hand as we strolled up the path, but Dad didn’t wait for introductions and wrapped his arms around him. I must have introduced everyone or Rupert did or there was no need. I couldn’t recall.
I’d shown my folks photos last week after I’d done a huge information dump.
Bodie’s child.
Another death.
The brother who’d stepped up.
And he happened to be my fated mate.
“A full circle,” Dad noted, and he’d asked when they could meet Rupert and Thorne.
But we were here now, and Dad wouldn’t let Rupert’s hand go as we walked into the house.
“Thank you for having us.” Thorne's voice had lost the tension from the car.
Rupert acted as if this was his house and inspected the photos on the wall and mantle while hugging the flamingo.
“Is that Bodie, my other dad? He looks like Raff.” The kid had a lot of fathers, two of whom were not here, but Thorne had shouldered the parenting so far, and I was here to take some of the load.
