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But both were serious.
“It’s why he’s at the Fall Games this year,” Declan said. “Since we’ve taken over the pack, it makes the most sense for him to return home now.”
“Oh,” I whispered, feeling the breath vanish from my lungs. Of course, that’d bring him home. I didn’t know why that surprised me. It was his place in the pack. It only made sense for him to come home.
Home to Cedar Harbor.
Where I’d have to see him every day.
Lord help me.
Chapter 28
Killian
Ifolded my hands together and leaned against the table, never breaking eye contact with Lucas. His wide-eyed dumbass kept on staring. Those fucking brows of his were halfway up his fucking forehead as he tried to force it.
“What the fuck are y’all doin’?” Alice demanded when she dropped into a seat nearby.
“Staring contest,” Lucas told her.
“Why?”
“Why not?”
“You know, why is a good fucking question here,” I commented but refused to blink. I planned to win. Though, I had no clue how the fuck this shit started.
“Y’all are fuckin’ weird,” Cole muttered and took a long swing of beer.
Before anyone could say anything, Declan reached out and snapped his fingers in front of Lucas’s face, making him blink in reaction.
“Motherfucker!” Lucas exclaimed while we laughed. “I had him!”
“Kid, your eyebrows were about to run away,” Sam said. He was stretched out next to me with a water in hand. We were back at it, hanging out at the Iron Wolf Pub, but this time it was shut down to the public—rented out for a private party. How many jokes had been made about a privates party at this point? Too many? Not enough? I didn’t have a fucking clue. I laughed every fucking time. I was like a fucking teenage boy at times.
Most of the Ironwood pack milled around the bar, drinking, laughing, and fucking around while they waited for the competition to begin. Meanwhile, the pack leaders were crammed around a table. Why Maverick wouldn’t give us a bigger fucking table was beyond me. I think he liked us uncomfortable.
My brothers and I sat with the Stones, shooting the shit and just talking fucking nonsense. Isla was crammed between Nolan and Finn, but that woman didn’t give two shits about what Finn said to her. She had fucking stars in her eyes talking to Nolan about books and bullshit. Cade was crammed next to Declan while Raven sat on his knee—Cade’s knee—and held Declan’s hand. Yeah, the whole thing was still fucking weird to me. Though, I seemed to be the only one bothered by it. The three of them were happy as they chatted with the Stones.
The Ironwoods didn’t join us right away. They were too busy helping Brady get a handle on the bar. Brady Ironwood came back from vacation just for the games in Iron Falls, but the man didn’t look like he left vacation. Towering over everyone at six-seven with a body like a tank, the old man was wearing a fucking Hawaiian shirt with khaki shorts and a goddamn lei around his neck. I didn’t know what to do with this version of Brady. I was used to torn t-shirts, jeans, and a leather vest on the man. And he was fucking smiling. The serious as fuck, graying old man was beaming ear-to-ear as he laughed with his sons.
“You figured out what you’re singing yet?” I asked Sam. Besides Nolan and his stage fright, Sam fucking hated singing in front of people. He had a damn good voice, but he just hated having all eyes on him.
“Yeah.” He chuckled. “It’s stupid as fuck, but I don’t give a shit.”
“I’m going with Taylor Swift,” Finn chimed in. “I’ve been practicing in the shower.”
“Yeah, Mom told us,” Sam replied.
“Oh, fucking hell.” I grinned. “What the fuck are you even singing?”
“Shake It Off,” Finn said. I groaned. Fuck, I hated that song. Roan was fucking obsessed with it. How often had I been stuck getting his drunk ass home while he belted that fucking song at two in the goddamn morning?
“Saddle up, boys!” Brady’s voice boomed off the walls. The man was the definition of loud when he wanted to be. “Trouble just walked into the fucking bar. Behave and she might not kick your ass.”
I glanced over my shoulder just in time to catch the way Mom rolled her eyes. She and Brady had hands-down the weirdest friendship ever. Granted, both were single parents raising rowdy fucking boys. I was pretty sure they’d spent years relying on each other to get through raising the lot of us.
Maeve Byrne was single-handedly the best fucking person in the world, and I’d kill anyone who said otherwise. Not that anyone would. She may have been our mom, but she was everyone’s mom. Anyone who needed a hug, a shoulder to cry on, a warm meal, Mom was there. There was no one better than her in this fucking world. Her deep chestnut hair was perfectly arranged, and her clothes were neat—everything about Mom was neat and orderly. She was always careful and controlled about her personal space and her appearance, but it never extended into ours. She let us be as exactly as we wanted to be while we grew up. I’d always admired that about her. As someone with my own set of control issues, I could only imagine how hard it had to have been on her.
