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“I would, but…” Raven’s gaze drifted to the sky. She was stalling. She’d come over here without a plan. And my God, how pathetic did I have to come across that she was trying to help me get away from my father? How old was I really? Sometimes I felt young and stupid. She squealed out, “It’s about the anniversary of my husband’s death! I need to talk about… my hours at the shop… because I just… “
My heart sank as I watched her struggle to help. God, I was pathetic.
“It’s fine,” I said quickly before she felt the need to keep going. There was no need for her to torture herself because I couldn’t get myself together and handle my father on my own. Standing on my tiptoes, I kissed him on the cheek. “I need to help her with this. It’s my job. I’ll see you later, Daddy. I love you.”
Slipping my arm through the crook in Raven’s elbow, I hurried away.
“You stay away from that boy, you hear me?” Dad shouted after me.
“I will!” I lied. I had a feeling I couldn’t stay away from Killian, even if I wanted to—a thought that absolutely terrified me if I was honest with myself.
Chapter 39
Genevieve
As soon as my father had driven away—and I made sure of it—I traded that God-forsaken skirt and sweater for a pair of fleece-lined leggings and an oversized sweatshirt. Raven hung out with me as I changed, and I caught the way she smirked at what I wore underneath. The faux leather and lace bralette and panties were certainly a statement compared to the clothes my father insisted I wear.
“Are you okay?” I asked when I was dressed. Her brows came together as she frowned. “The anniversary of your husband’s death…”
“Oh, that.” Raven blew out a slow breath. “Yeah, I already talked to Nolan about taking time off. Michael is going to run the child center for the week. I’ll be okay.”
“Why didn’t you tell me?” I voiced the one thought I’d wanted to ask her since Sam had told me.
“It’s just… I don’t think…” With a frustrated sound, she flopped back on the bed. We’d taken up one of the first-floor rooms to store our stuff and crash for naps if needed during the height of the Fall Games. I flopped down next to her, giving her the space she needed until she was ready to talk—if she wanted to talk. “I don’t know what to think! I had planned to go back to Chicago every year, but I can’t because my brother-in-law wants to kill me. You know, after he already tried to kill me once. My mom calls every week. Every Sunday. I sit on the porch while we talk. It’s nice. But every Sunday she always asks the same thing… when are we coming to visit? Or when can they come to visit? And I always have to give some stupid answer… construction, work, Declan’s sick, Holly’s too young to travel… I hate it.”
“I’m sorry.” I couldn’t imagine.
“My family’s close,” she continued. “If we go visit, they wouldn’t let Declan and I stay out of the house. And if they come here… I’m building a seven-bedroom house! They won’t stay at a motel! They’ll want to stay with us. And me… I’m just… can you keep a secret?”
“Always.”
“We’re trying to get pregnant,” Raven said in the quietest voice possible—not that I blamed her. We were in a house of wolves and prying ears. But oh… a baby. My heart ached. I remembered conversations like that with Killian. It felt like eons ago at this point. “We’ve been trying for a few months. Obviously, nothing yet because I’m running the race tomorrow. I don’t even know if we’re ready, considering all the crap in our life thanks to yours truly, but we want it. I’m so tired of not having control over the direction of my life. Our life. But I also want to go back home. I want him to meet my parents. I want not to be dangerous.”
Technically, pregnancy would solve that. Female wolves went dormant during pregnancy and for the year after. While sleepwalking, Raven wouldn’t shift. She wouldn’t be dangerous. Even still, I wasn’t sure I agreed with that being a good reason to have a baby, but I kept that thought to myself. I was the last person to judge relationship decisions.
“Oh, God, listen to me,” she whined, scrubbing her hands over her face. She peeked over at me from between her fingers. “This is supposed to be about you, not me.”
“But focusing on you distracts me from my own stuff. That’s helpful.”
“By that logic, we should talk about your stuff to distract me from mine.”
“Touché.” I hated the accuracy of her logic.
“Should we talk about the Voldemort of Cedar Harbor? The town villain?” she replied.
“You can say his name…”
“You didn’t tell me your husband looks like a hot pirate,” Raven whispered. “Like the attractive one from that fantasy TV show… the one with the bail hunting chick where everyone was related to everyone else.”
“I’m sure Declan loves you calling his brother attractive,” I scoffed.
“There’s a difference between saying someone is attractive and saying I’m attracted to them,” she countered. “All the Byrnes were dipped in… like a vat of hot man potion. Forget sugar, spice, and everything nice. It’s charm, sex appeal, and big dicks.”
“Raven!” I lost it, laughing.
“What?” she exclaimed with a huge grin. “You know it’s true! I’m marrying a lumberjack hung like a fucking tree! You married a pirate with a giant sword! We all know it’s true!”
“I can’t,” I wheezed.
