“Brother, she’s there. Audrey said she’s on administrative leave because of everything going on. Audrey texted with her when I swapped with Boyd. Becky hasn’t gotten out of bed.”
She hasn’t gotten out of bed. While that idea would normally be sexy as fuck, it made my wolf want to howl. I’d hurt her. Bad. This was all my fault. She thought I was a monster.
“She needs to eat,” I growled. “I bet that kitchen doesn’t have an avocado in it.”
He ran his hand over his face, studied the house as if answers were painted on it. “I’ve got an idea. You got it from here?”
I nodded then climbed from his truck and back to mine.
He drove off. I didn’t know what the idea was, but it had better be fucking good.
An hour later, I was ready to peek in the bedroom window to check on her like her deadbeat, dead ex, but Rand pulled up behind me. With Mom.
She hopped out in her heavy boots, thick coat and hat, holding covered dishes. She sported a narrowed gaze I recognized as one that said “get out of my way, I’ve got shit to accomplish.”
Fuck, yes.
Rand was brilliant. Mom had food and hugs and everything Becky needed.
BECKY
I heard the doorbell but ignored it. I heard the knock on the door and ignored that too. When my cell rang, I flopped over in bed and reached for it on the nightstand.
Audrey had texted earlier to check on me. I knew she worked today since I’d been supposed to work with her. Administrative leave was a bitch because I had nowhere to go. Nothing to do. No money. I hadn’t heard from the sheriff to know if I was still under suspicion of Todd’s death.
I knew who’d done it, but it wasn’t like I could waltz on in and tell the guy a shifter ripped Todd’s throat out because my mate, who’d bitten me with his sharp teeth and claimed me for life, was a wolf enforcer who’d shot the guy’s cousin in the head and wanted revenge.
They’d think I was nuts. And I was.
After the night before? How could I not be? The man I loved was part wolf. Wholly dangerous.
I read the text.
It’s Janet. I’m at the door. Let me in. I’m cold, and my hands are full of seven-layer dip and barbequed cocktail wieners.
My stomach growled and had me hopping out of bed at the mention of tiny hot dogs. The last few times I’d thrown up, it hadn’t been from morning sickness. It appeared I might have gotten past the nauseated phase—thank God—but hadn’t lost my weird hankerings.
I all but tossed open the door, and there was Janet with plastic containers in her hands. I grabbed them from her, and she laughed, breezing in as if it were July and not snowing. “Honey, I didn’t know which one sounded good right now, so I made you both. No reason to even get a plate, huh?”
She bustled me toward the small kitchen and settled me at the table. I had no idea if she’d been to Audrey’s house before or not, but she went directly to the silverware drawer and pulled out a fork.
I took off a lid as she brought me the utensil and grabbed a napkin from the little holder in the center of the table.
The scent of tangy barbecue sauce and meat wafted from the first container I opened. “Oh my God, these look so good.”
As Janet took off her coat, she smiled. “All my boys like them. I’d put them in the slow cooker because the boys loved to snack after school.”
“That sounds nice for them.”
I’d tried to block visions of Clint, but instantly a ten-year old version popped into my head, all tousle haired and rowdy, ready to chow down for a snack.
“You must’ve bought a lot of food,” I said, shoving a cocktail wiener in my face. It was still warm, and the sauce was sticky and sweet. I closed my eyes as I chewed. Sooo good.
“I did. When Rob, Colton and Boyd lost their parents, we pretty much took care of them. They stayed at the main house… it’s their home and all, but I made sure those guys were fed and sorted. Still do, at least a little bit.” She sat quietly as I savored the flavor. I hadn’t eaten anything since the night before. “The baby’s happy now?”
After I swallowed, I speared another and shoveled it in. “Mmmhmm,” I replied.
“You’ve got a big job going on inside you. If you want little hot dogs, then you can have little hot dogs.” She reached for the second container and took off the lid.
Seven-layer dip, about three inches thick, only the top layer of thickly spread guacamole with olive halves sprinkled on top visible.
“God, that looks good, too.” My mouth was full, and I was eating like a pig.