“Well, thanks for the invite. Things are weird at Dad’s right now. It’s nice to get away.”
My eyebrows rise at that. I haven’t heard from my dad in a few days, so I have no idea what Forest is talking about.
“How is it weird?”
“He doesn’t seem to like Rhodes all that much. Fia keeps trying to get them to bond.”
“That’s not like Dad,” I say, and River chimes in again.
“Yeah, it’s not. What’s he have against the poor guy? He seems nice enough. Kinda quiet, but yeah.”
Forest shrugs and finishes his can of beer. “No clue. He’s just tense and annoyed most of the time. Was thinking about asking him to go up north with me to the Crimson Howlers’ territory?—”
“I can do that,” I interrupt before he can finish his sentence. “It’s supposed to be beautiful up there in the hills, and I need to take a few vacation days so I don’t lose them. I’d like to do a road trip with you.”
Forest cocks his head. “Yeah, guess it would be nice to have someone come along with me that isn’t Dad. I will be busy when I’m there though…”
His words trail off, and his ears turn pink. I say nothing about it. River, on the other hand, can’t help himself.
“What are you gonna be busy doing?” he asks, his head cocked.
I move into the kitchen and bump into River, trying to give him the hint to shut up. It doesn’t work.
“I mean, there isn’t much to do there besides hike around and fuck the Howlers, who are all alphas, right?”
Forest’s cheeks darken, and River howls. “For fucking real?”
I slap him on the back of his head, and River grunts, rubbing the sore spot.
“Hey, that wasn’t nice. That hurt. You know you’re bigger than me.”
“So, shut the fuck up then and help me put the water on the stove.”
River grumbles an apology to Forest and does as I ask. When the water is boiling, I hear the crunch of gravel outside, and I move toward the door as quickly as I can. I don’t want Arbor to see the werewolves outside and immediately leave.
I push open the door and make my way toward his car, the cats meowing at me as I go.
I ignore them, focusing on the fact that Arbor’s car is still idling in the driveway. Thankfully, as I approach, it shuts off.
“Hey,” I say when he hesitantly opens the door.
“Why are they here?” he whispers, still not getting out of the car.
“They kind of won’t leave. I fed them once, and here they are. Every damn day. And by the way, it turns out, they’re not Howlers. They’re werewolves.”
He gasps, and then a giggle escapes his mouth. “I’m so sorry. I shouldn’t laugh. But gods. I feel like this would only happen to you.”
“Yeah, yeah. Come on. They’re safe. A little annoying, but they’re not gonna hurt you.”
“We heard that!” Corvin shouts. A hiss and a yelp manifest behind me, and I know his booming voice irritated one of the cats. But as I turn, I see he has the cut on his skin to prove it.
I know they heal fast, though; werewolves are notoriously very resistant to injury. Their bodies literally break every full moon and are pieced back together again.
“Oh, I brought you something.”
Arbor reaches into the passenger seat and hands me two bottles of wine.
“I stopped off and grabbed some. Didn’t know which you liked—red or white—so I got one of each.”
