The Lone Wolf (Wolf 3)

I passed the dining room, and that’s when I stopped in my tracks.

Lily sat in the booth with my father across from her, two coffees in front of them. Still steaming but untouched, they acted as placeholders to distract from the tension. Lily was slumped forward with her head slightly down because she was unable to meet my father’s gaze.

My father seemed remorseful…even a little ashamed.

I stood there and tried to decide what to do. It seemed wrong to disturb them when they were in such deep conversation. My father probably had shown up there to apologize, and that was exactly what my sister needed. She was in rehab because she felt so lost in the real world. Making up with our father was probably what she needed to stand on her own two feet again.

Just when I was about to turn away, my father looked up and noticed me.

Our eyes locked, and I stopped breathing altogether. It was strange to look at him without seeing that hostility rise into his features. He always used to look at me like I was a bitter disappointment, a borderline enemy. But that look wasn’t forthcoming. Now he just looked like my father…and nothing else.

Then he nodded for me to come over.

I walked to their table and looked at my sister. Old tearstains were visible down her cheeks, and her eyes were puffy like a waterfall had recently cascaded from her eyes. It took her a few seconds for her to lift her gaze and meet my stare. “Hey, Maverick.”

“Can I join you?”

She nodded.

I took a seat beside my sister and felt the weight of the moment crush me. It was the first time my family had been together since my mother passed away. It was the first time the three of us were under the same roof, as a family. It wasn’t the same as it used to be, not when my mother’s laugh wasn’t there to fill the pockets of silence. There was a deep hole inside of every one of us without her presence. But at least we were together now…and I was happy.

“Damn, I didn’t expect to see you with a drink in your hand so soon.” Kent sat across from me in the booth at the back of the bar, his long-sleeved shirt covered by his gray blazer. His skin was fairer every time I saw him because the sun wasn’t there to kiss it a golden brown.

The scotch was in front of me, but I took my time drinking it and refrained from ordering another. Now that I understood what my limit was, I knew I could drink the way I used to—but not a sip more. That was one of the most humiliating nights of my life, and I didn’t want to repeat it. My wife would still love me the next morning. She would still take care of me throughout the night. But I still didn’t want to repeat it anyway. “I’m getting my feet back in the water.”

“You aren’t you without scotch in your system, so I’m glad to see it. And since you have a wife to come pick you up when you get carried away, even better. You aren’t my problem.”

“Good thing we’re friends,” I teased.

He held up his glass and tapped it to mine.

I returned the gesture. “And assholes.”

He chuckled then took a drink. “So, you and your dad are square?”

“Well, we’re starting to be square. We have a long way to go.”

“At least he doesn’t want to kill your or your hot wife.”

I was about to drink from my glass but shot him a glare instead.

“What?” he asked incredulously. “You didn’t give her the time of day in the beginning. I was the one who reminded you that she was sex on legs, and that’s when you finally woke up. So, you’re welcome.”

I let it slide. “She and I are getting married tomorrow.”

He almost spat out the drink he’d just took. He managed to keep it locked behind his lips until he could swallow it and force it down his throat. He wiped his forearm across his mouth to catch the drops that escaped. “Back up. Did you get divorced?”

“No. But we’re doing another ceremony.”

“You haven’t even been married for a year,” he said incredulously. “What’s with the fairy-tale shit?”

“The first wedding didn’t mean anything to either of us. She was coerced and so was I. But now that we want to be together—”

“So, you finally admit you love this woman?”

When I said it to her on Christmas, I didn’t think twice about it. She’d looked so beautiful under the Christmas tree, the lights reflecting in her bright eyes. Her gift was thoughtful, showing her affection that had never disappeared, even after the terrible things I’d done. It was nice…just to sit there with her, to have someone to spend the holiday with. Before I knew it, the words were flying out of my mouth and exploding into the air. “Yeah.”