Page 13 of The Lunatics

Dad ran his hands over his face and up through his hair, making it stand on end. “What a nightmare.”

Michael’s phone rang again from inside his pocket, and he stood to retrieve it. “It’s Nathaniel. Please pardon me.” He turned and headed toward the front door.

As soon as it closed behind him, my parents converged, Mom hugging me, Dad’s long arms managing to hug both of us.

“What the hell do I do?” I asked them.

“Fucked if I know,” Mom answered.

“What an unmitigated disaster,” Dad said from above us. “You are totally screwed, kiddo.”

I laughed into Mom’s shoulder. “Thank you both so much for all of your love and support. Truly, I don’t know what I would do without such steadfast parental guidance.”

“You know we’re teasing,” Mom said.

We untangled ourselves from each other.

“I know,” I said. “And thank you. If someone didn’t make a joke about all of this, I would have started sobbing.”

She smoothed my hair back from my face. “There’s a way through this. There always is.”

I reached out and grabbed her before she pulled away, looking from her to Dad and back again. “I’m sorry you weren’t there. Never in a million years did I think it would happen like this.”

Dad sent me a sad look. “We know.”

“A Kolbeck,” Mom said. She pulled free and picked up her wineglass. “I can’t believe it.”

Dad looked to me in question. “How’s he been about all of this?”

I glanced toward the front door, straining my ears. If I couldn’t hear him, there was no way he could hear me. “He’s been better than I have. The dominant emotion coming across the bond right now is slight annoyance, even though I can feel him suppressing other ones. He must have iron self-control.”

Mom chuckled. “Be thankful for that. Your father and I were even younger than you when we bonded, and between the hormones and the snark, it’s lucky we survived the first year.”

Dad picked his beer up and sent her a look that smoldered. “Come on, now. It wasn’t all bad.”

Mom made an appreciative sound low in her throat. “No. It. Wasn’t.”

Ewww.

I leaned forward and reached for the bottle of whiskey. “Please don’t make this night any worse for me.”

Mom swiveled back around. “I’m just saying. Michael is what? Thirty? That’s a good age for the bond. Most wolves have calmed down by then, and from the looks of him, he’s pretty hard to ruffle.”

I poured myself a splash more alcohol. “He definitely seems that way.” At least on the outside.

“You can use that to help you,” Dad said. “Through the bond, you can tap into each other’s emotions. When you get upset orstart to panic—both totally valid emotions, by the way—you can use his calm to even you out.”

“The sooner I learn how to do that, the better. I haven’t been this upset since…”

I didn’t have to finish the sentence. We all knew what time period I was talking about.

The front door opened and then closed. Michael’s footfalls followed, growing louder as he approached. Likewise, my awareness of him increased. I’d been trying hard to push it down, but for some reason, it felt like it was getting worse. Like he’d burrowed into the back of my mind and made a little home to take up permanent residence there.

“How’s your brother?” I asked when he rejoined us.

“Quite well, thank you. He and Sarah appear to be well suited for each other.” He came to stand by my side of the island, looking at me from only a foot away. Those strong brows drew together, a line forming between them. I felt a flare of confusion in the bond, like he didn’t know how he’d ended up so close. He took a measured step back. “I’ve asked him to hold his tongue about our… situation. I feel as though it would be better if I broke the news to our parents in person.”

“You don’t think they’ll find out through the grapevine before you can get to them?” I asked.