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"Yeah," Dylan said. "I'm going to swing by and grab some takeout for dinner back at Mom's place. She wants baby back ribs, sweet potatoes, and cornbread - oh, and some fancy champagne, as she put it, to celebrate my newfound love."
"Sounds like you have quite an evening planned."
Dylan was quiet for a moment. "It's really good to see her smiling, Rio. I want her to enjoy these next few weeks as much as she can."
He understood, of course. And as Dylan wrapped up the conversation and promised to call him when she was back at her mother's apartment, Rio wondered how he was going to get through the weeks - perhaps a couple of months - away from Dylan. It wasn't a long time, certainly not by Breed standards, but for a male in love with his mate, the duration was going to seem endless.
He needed to be with Dylan through this.
And he knew that she needed him too.
When he flipped the cell phone closed, he found Lucan standing outside the tech lab doors. Rio had told him earlier about Dylan's mother, and about what Dylan meant to him, how deeply he'd fallen in love with her. He'd laid it all out for Lucan - from the fact that he and Dylan were blood-bonded now, to the offer he'd made her concerning Tess's healing abilities.
Rio didn't know how long Lucan had been standing there, but the shrewd gray eyes seemed fully aware that things were not going well on the other end.
"How is Dylan holding up?"
Rio nodded. "She's strong. She'll get through this."
"What about you, my man?"
He started to say that he'd be fine too, but Lucan's stare tore through that bullshit before the words even left Rio's lips.
"I told her I'd be there tonight," he told the Order's leader. "I have to go to her, Lucan. For my own sanity, if nothing else. If I stay here, I'm not sure what good I'd be, to tell you the truth. She's the only thing that's held me together in a very long time. I'm a wreck for this woman, my friend. She owns me now."
"Even more than the Order?"
Rio paused, deliberating over what he was being asked. "I would die for the Order - for you and any one of my brethren. You know that."
"Yes. I know you would," Lucan replied. "Hell, you almost have, more than once."
"I'd die to serve the Order, but Dylan...Cristo. This woman, more than anything before, gives me a reason to live. I have to be with her now, Lucan."
He nodded soberly. "I'll put one of the other guys on your patrol tonight. You do what you have - "
"Lucan." Rio met the male's gaze and held it. "I have to be with Dylan until she's through this ordeal with her mother. It could be weeks, maybe months."
"So, what are you telling me?"
Rio cursed under his breath. "I'm telling you that I'm leaving to be with her, for as long as it takes. I'm quitting the Order, Lucan. I head out for New York tonight."
"Here's a box for those things, honey." Janet came into Dylan's mom's office carrying an empty copy paper container. "It's nice and sturdy and it's got a lid too."
"Thanks," Dylan said, setting it down on the cluttered desk. "Mom is kind of a pack rat, isn't she?"
Janet laughed. "Oh, honey! That woman hasn't thrown away a note or a greeting card or a photograph since I've known her. She saves everything like it was gold, bless her heart." The older woman glanced around the room, her eyes going moist with tears. "We sure are going to miss Sharon around here. She had such a way with the girls. Everyone adored her, even Mr. Fasso was charmed by her and he's not easily impressed. Her free spirit drew people to her, I think."
Dylan smiled at the sentiment, but it was very hard hearing her mother referred to in the past tense already. "Thanks for the box, Janet."
"Oh, you're welcome, honey. Would you like some help finishing up in here?"
"No, thanks. I'm almost done."
She waited as Janet made her exit, then she went back to the task at hand. It was difficult to tell what might be important to her mother and what could be tossed, so finally Dylan just started gathering papers and old photos by the handful and placing them in the box.
She paused to look at a few of the pictures - her mother standing with her arms around the thin shoulders of two young shelter girls with bad 1980s hair, tube tops, and short shorts; another of her mom smiling behind the counter of an ice cream shop, beaming at the "Employee of the Month" award the young girl next to her was holding up like a prize.
Her mother had befriended nearly every troubled young woman who came through the place, genuinely invested in seeing them succeed and rise above the problems that had made the girls run away from home or feel that they didn't, or couldn't, fit into normal society. Her mother had tried to make a difference. And in a lot of cases, she had.
