“Yes.” A smile bloomed, full of contentment I could only dream of. “It is, Reid. Because when you accept it, when you understand it, you allow yourself to be happy. And that’s the biggest fuck-you you can give to your so-called family.”
Laughter burst from me, cascading until I was wiping tears from my eyes. Across from me, June was doing the same with the hand not holding mine. “I think we’re going to get on marvellously.”
She winked. “Aye, I think we will. Assuming you’re smart enough to do as yer told and eat your porridge.”
I shot her a grin as I took my seat. “Yes, ma’am.”
“Cheeky.” June tapped my shoulder lightly with the wooden spoon. “Yep. Can definitely see why you’ve captured my Evan’s attention.”
This time, I didn’t argue with her.
I just ate with a smile on my face while pretending the warmth was from the porridge.
Not the burgeoning hope that was growing brighter.
“What’s happening in this one?”
June leaned closer to see the photo I was holding. “Oh, that was the summer he decided he wanted to be a Beatle, so he grew his hair to look like Paul McCartney. I didna have the heart to tell him that it wasn’t his hair that was the problem. Only people who are going to pay where Evan’s singing is concerned are those who want him to shut up.”
I dissolved into giggles, wiping tears from my eyes. Something I’d been doing since June first hauled out the boxes of photos an hour ago. “Do ye think he’d sing for me?”
She shot me a look of alarm. “Aye, but seriously, lad, don’t risk it. It could cause permanent damage.”
Still laughing, I reached into the box and grabbed another photo. They weren’t in albums, just shoved in loosely.
“I really should get around to organising these.” June smiled fondly as she flicked through a stack. “Having a wean when cameras were easily accessible was such a novelty for the clan. I think there are more photos of Evan, Brodie, and Hamish than everyone else put together.”
Hamish. He was the one who’d been guarding me the night before. I didn’t…I didn’t know who they were. Not really. Were they related to Evan somehow? “Are Hamish and Brodie yours too?”
“No,” June said softly. “We were only blessed with Evan. But they were born within a couple of years of each other. They may as well be brothers with how close they are.”
A lump formed in my throat.Blessed.Clyde used to use aword starting with the same letter, but it certainly wasn’t that one.
Burdened.
“I’m glad Evan had that growing up,” I said, running my fingers along the edge of a shot of a smiling toddler Evan, his face covered in what looked like mud. “It can be lonely in shifter clans, what with the common age differences.”
“Were there not any kids your age in the Clarkson Clan?”
June didn’t look at me as she asked her question, and my heart clenched at her thoughtfulness. “There were, but the difference between us was harder to move past than being a few years apart in age.”
“It shouldn’t have been,” June said quietly. “You know that, right?”
In theory.
Swallowing back the trauma trying to rise, I tapped on another photo. “Is this Hamish and Brodie here?”
June picked up the photo, thankfully going with the subject change. “Aye, little feckers. This was the day they decided to see if they could build a slide from Evan’s bedroom window using nothing but towels and bedsheets.”
I snorted. Sounded like something I would’ve wanted to attempt as a kid. I never would’ve dared though. I kind of loved that Evan and his friends had felt safe enough to give it a go.
Guess that was the kind of thing that happened when you knew your actions wouldn’t result in a beating.
“Did they succeed?”
She sighed. “They did. Let’s just say it’s a good thing they’re shifters and heal fast. Between them, we had twobroken collarbones, six cracked ribs, a broken wrist, and three sprained ankles.”
I chuckled. “Sounds like they were a handful.”
