Even when they found out I could turn into a tiger.
Especially then.
They never stopped loving me and protecting me. Is contacting my biological brother a betrayal of their love? Mom had always said we could do genetic testing to try to trace my birth family once I was eighteen. It just stopped being an option when we realized it could draw attention to my genetics.
Mom was terrified I would end up a science experiment, tucked away in a lab somewhere, never allowed to be free again.
But now I have the opportunity to actually meet someone I’m related to. Someone who might have my eyes or my smile. Someone who people wouldn’t be confused about how we are related as soon as they see us together.
Before I can overthink it any further, I hit the call button. I jump at how loud the ringing sound is. How long have I been sitting in silence? Nobody answers the call, and my shoulders slump as I hang up when the message for his voicemail starts up. Disappointment settles into my bones, and indecision fades away.
I know what I want. What I’ve always wanted.
So when the phone lights up with an incoming call, mere minutes later, I nearly swallow my tongue in my haste to answer.
“Hello?” a deep male voice asks when I don’t say anything.
“Uh, hi,” I squeak before clearing my throat. “I’m looking for Brett Lo.”
“This is he. How can I help?” Okay, friendly, wants to help. He doesn’tsoundlike a monster.
“This is, perhaps, going to come as a bit of a shock. My name is Maya, and… I think you might be my brother.”
There’s a long pause, and I’m not sure if I should keep talking, keep explaining. But silence is powerful, so instead, I give him time.
“My father…” he says, trailing off. My instinct is telling me he doesn’t know. He sounds shocked and confused. As if this is new information.
“I believe your father may have also fathered me. I was left at a fire station as a baby. I’m twenty-nine years old, and I’ve only just started the process of finding out about my origins.”
“Can we meet?” he asks. “This feels like an in-person conversation. I can bring Michael too; that’s my brother.”
“That sounds good. I’d really like that,” I say, feeling warmth blooming in my chest. This is really happening. I’m going to meet someone related to me. My tiger doesn’t seem so sure, but she’s never prioritized family like I do. Brett and I exchange email addresses and make a plan to meet in a couple of days. Somewhere public, because as much as I want this to go well, I’m not an idiot either.
Excitement skitters down my spine. Nerves too, of course. This is huge. And the first person I want to talk to about it is Ryan. How absurd is that?
He lied and manipulated me, but I still wish I could lean on his strength right now. I wish he could come with me, hold my hand and steady my nerves. I let out a heavy exhale, and Moto, my Romanian Shepherd, whimpers and nuzzles into me. He settles onto the couch beside me, his head resting on my leg while Bran, my Irish wolfhound, curls around my feet.
My head is a mess of emotions. The grief of losing Ryan and the Lunar Eclipse Pack, the excitement of meeting a biological relative, and the nerves that this might all be a terrible mistake.
My tiger lets out a huff of breath, and I get it. She’s been wanting me to go back to Ryan since I walked out a few days ago. She has been pushing me to climb into my car and go talk to him, and a huge part of me wants to.
I bring up his number on my phone, examining the picture I selected for his contact details. Sofia took this photo when we haddinner as a group one night. His arm is around my shoulders, and I’m laughing at something someone said, but Ryan is just looking at me. Even in the photograph, his affection is clear.
He hasn’t called me, though. Should I wait for him? Or go after what I want? Because I want him here. Despite everything, I want him to come with me and hold my hand. Fuck it. I hit call. For the second time tonight, my call goes unanswered. But there’s no call back this time. Not that night. And not before I leave to go meet my brother two days later.
I guess I know where I stand, at least.
Chapter Forty
Maya
I rub my palms down the side of my skirt, trying to rid them of their clammy sweat as I walk into the restaurant where Brett and I arranged to meet. I roll my shoulders and tilt my head from one side to the other, trying to ease the stiffness from the long journey. Halfway between where we both live was still a three-hour drive.
I pause at the door, grasping the cool metal of the handle for a moment before walking in.
Breathe in for four seconds.
Hold for four seconds.
