Then they’d bought plane tickets and flown to Wyoming.
They were here. With us. Now.
It was hard not to go to Rachel and pull her onto my lap. Kiss her. Show her how much she meant to me, even while her father worked through it all. Chester’s betrayal, Rachel’s ‘finding herself’ in Montana, her marriage to Nash.
For them, I needed to play the part of friend, not mate, which was fine. I sat across the room while Rachel and Nash sat next to her parents.
“It’s fine, Dad,” Rachel said, placating him. Again.
We were at Gibson’s for another barbecue. This time, the group was smaller. Gibson, Ben, and Shelby, since it was their house. Marne, Shelby’s mom. The three of us. Rachel’s parents, and Harlan.
I had come with Rachel again, but with Nash, instead of fighting him over the baked beans. We had a common goal: our mate.
We were all shifters except for Rachel and her parents. We not only had to keep that a secret, but also that we mated in pairs.
“He shot at your husband!” Rachel’s father ran a hand through his thinning salt and pepper hair. Her mother sat next to him on the couch in the great room, patting his thigh. They looked out of place in the cabin, like they’d gone to play golf at their country club but somehow ended up in Wyoming instead. They were still distraught over what had happened, and trying to process it all. As shifters, we didn’t panic about being shot, so we’d all come to terms with what happened fairly quickly.
I remembered her father’s call when he’d first learned of Rachel’s marriage to Nash. How insulting he’d been. How he’d believed every lie Chester had dished out.
Oh, how he’d changed his tune.
The man was around sixty, and wore khakis and a plaid button-up. The kind golfers wore in the winter, not the flannel lumberjack variety. Rachel’s mother wore a dress and heels, more appropriate for a dinner party than a rural Wyoming barbecue, but they were who they were.
They loved Rachel, and that was all I cared about.
“He did, Dad,” Rachel said, taking a sip of her wine. “It’s over now.”
The man took a deep breath as if trying to calm himself. “He kidnapped you and drove into a ditch. He was killed!” He grabbed Rachel’s hand in his. “God, I don’t know how you survived.”
Rachel’s mom wiped her eyes with a handkerchief.
“I had just found her. No way would she be taken from me,” Nash told him.
Rachel’s mom nodded and set her hand over her heart. Nash had won them over with his quick grin and kind heart. It was also the way he obviously loved Rachel that had worked the most.
Nash was sitting beside Rachel and he pulled her back into his hold, her back resting against his chest. He kissed her hair. Which was what I wanted to do.
“I had him checked out,” her dad added, frowning. “Huge gambling debts. He was about to be kicked out of the club.”
“We’re so sorry, love,” her mom said. “We pushed you so much. You coming here… it was like fate or something.”
Rachel smiled and gave Nash a quick glance. Definitely fate.
“I know, Mom,” she said. “We’ve talked about this all week since you arrived. I’m fine. I’m happy. I love Nash.”
She glanced my way, met my gaze. I knew she silently added that she loved me too.
“Love at first sight,” her mom whispered, then started crying again.
Rachel sighed and looked to Nash, who kissed her on the lips this time.
“We have my father to thank,” Nash said.
Everyone looked at Harlan, who was standing by the kitchen counter where the appetizers were laid out.
He wasn’t used to crowds, although this wasn’t even that. Being alone for so long, he was uncomfortable around people. We’d visited him several times since the incident, slowly getting to know him. Gibson had announced to the pack what had happened thirty years ago, dispelling any rumors, and ensuring everyone knew Harlan was welcome within the pack.
Rachel had shared details of what had happened with her parents, embellishing some parts and outright lying about others. She couldn’t share that Harlan had shifted to wolf form and ripped Chester’s throat out. She couldn’t share that Nash had actually been shot and then quickly healed on his own. She couldn’t share that we were a triad.
But what we had offered them was enough to bring them around. That the sheriff had been involved. That Chester had acted alone, and because of bad choices he made in California.
“We’re family now,” Rachel said. She looked to Harlan, then to her parents. “All of us.”
Her father nodded. “We just want you happy, honey.”
“I know,” Rachel murmured. “Just so you know, I could have been a senator.”
Her father’s eyes widened as if the idea had never occurred to him. Then he smiled. “Yes, you could have. Still can.”