"Into town to grab the paper." Harris looked at me, amusement touching the corners of his blue eyes. It changed his features from merely handsome to extraordinary. "He did mutter something about needing the break from baby-sitting."
I was tempted to snort, but it would have hurt my head. I took a sip of coffee, wished it wasn't so damn bitter, and said, somewhat gingerly, "So why are you here? Not to give my brother a break from the baby-sitting duties, I take it."
"No." The amusement fell away from his face. "I made a few inquiries, and it appears you are indeed Hanna London, a border guard and troublemaker from the Cona Creek London pack."
"You almost sound disappointed."
"It isn't often my instincts are wrong." He shrugged. "I spoke to Tyson London and he backed up everything Evin has said."
>"Because I feel like I didn't. When you mentioned Mom before, I had this very weird feeling." I hesitated. "And yet if you were happy, why wasn't I?"
He suddenly looked uncomfortable. "Well, you did have the tendency to get into trouble. Some of the stories about you and - "
He stopped dead and confusion crossed his face.
"Me and who?" I asked.
"I don't know." He shrugged, and took a long drink of beer.
And again I wondered if he was telling the truth. He seemed to be, but that didn't mean he actually was.
Was I always this damn suspicious of my own brother? Because I did believe he was my brother - even if he wasn't the one I remembered or wanted - but there was little else coming out of his mouth that appeared to be the truth.
"Tell me about our family, then."
"There's really not much point when you'll remember soon enough."
It was said with just a touch of impatience, and I raised my eyebrows. "There's no harm in humoring me, is there?"
"I honestly don't know. I guess not."
Which, as comments went, was odd. There seemed to be a lot of that going around.
He took another long drink of beer, then crushed the can and lobbed it toward the trash. "We're a fairly large family unit for our pack. Mom met Dad fairly late, but she made up for it. Beside me, there's a younger brother and a set of twins. Two girls."
Sisters. I had sisters. Something twisted in my stomach and an odd sense of sadness and regret rose.
"What are their names?"
"Our brother is Raynham, and was named after my mother. The twins are Jobie and Nelia." He glanced at me.
"I'm guessing by your expression you don't remember them."
"No." How can you remember someone when you've never even met them? The question rose out of the mire of my mind, clear and strong. "What are they like?"
He smiled. "Raynham is the studious type. He likes his books and computers. Nel is the adventurous one. She's stubborn and strong, and has a nose for trouble. A smaller version of you, basically."
"And Jobie?"
"A homebody. She's already saying that when she grows up, she wants nothing more than a soul mate and babies. Lots of babies."
Which is what I want. And something I'll never achieve. Not without someone having them for me, anyway. I rubbed my head wearily and wondered if the ache was ever going to fade enough to bring back memories and understanding. Or was this pain, and the fleeting, annoyingly incomplete memories, all I was ever going to get?
Then I frowned as the rest of his words hit. When she grows up? "Just how old are they?"
"Raynham's seven. The twins are five."
Shock rippled through me. I was more than twenty years older than any of them. No wonder I didn't know them - I'd left the pack long before they'd even been born.