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Byron snorted. “Grindr. G-r-i-n-d-r. As in, the biggest gay hookup app on the internet.”
The words reached my ears, but they just sort of hit a wall inside my brain.
“Wh-what?”
“Your homophobic dad fucks men on the sly,” Emiel said, translating into simpler words for me.
“It’s the biggest cliché on the planet,” Byron said. “The gay-bashing beta asshole is a secret cock-slut. I came up here to check right after dinner. Did a little snooping, found his address and a couple of photos from some church bullshit posted online, then started swiping profiles in his area. It didn’t take long for him to come up.”
“Some of his forum chat history is, um...interesting,” Luca added, deadpan.
I blinked at them, my entire history shattering and reassembling itself in a completely different shape.
Byron frowned, tilting his head. “Is he okay?”
“I think he’s rebooting,” Luca said.
It took a few seconds for the reboot to complete. And maybe it was the hormones, but when it did, slow-burning rage bubbled up from somewhere deep in my chest.
“Holy shit. I am going to fuckingdestroythat man,” I said to the room at large.
And, all right... maybe rolling up to my parents’ house with the entire pack in tow, three days before Mia and Luca’s heat was due to start, wasn’t the most thoughtful and well-planned response.
But as I stalked up to their front door with a pile of printed screenshots neatly organized inside a manila folder, it was pretty fucking satisfying.
Mia was at my shoulder; the others hanging back in their vehicles, but ready to jump in at a moment’s notice. I rang the doorbell, and thirty seconds later the front door opened to reveal my mother.
She gasped, as theatrical as always.
“Nat! You’ve got a lot of nerve showing up like this with no warning! Do you haveany ideahow long we’ve been trying to get hold of you without so much as anemailor acall—”
“Your husband has been cheating on you,” I said, cutting across the litany of martyrdom. I shoved the folder into her hands. “With men.”
My mother’s mouth fell open and stayed that way, no words coming out.
Mia took up the assault. “He has an active account on a gay hookup site called Grindr.” She coughed delicately. “A very...activeaccount. We thought you’d probably want to know.”
“Yes,” I agreed. “Oh, and one more thing. I’m cutting off contact with you. Expect a restraining order to be filed shortly. And don’t youevershow up at the Elderflower Inn again. It’s under new management—nothing to do with us anymore. I’ve told the new owner to call the cops on you without a second thought if you make a nuisance of yourselves.”
My mother had stared blankly at me through all of this, a doll with its mouth hanging slack. She blinked, seeming to come back to herself—looking at the folder in her hands, then at Mia and me, then back at the folder. Her chest inflated like an angry puffer fish.
“Tom!” she shrieked, turning toward the interior of the house. “Thomas Raymond Bell!Come here this instant!”
Mia and I exchanged a look, then we both pivoted on our heels and walked to the Jeep without a backward glance. I started the engine, following Zalen’s SUV as we backed out of the driveway and headed toward the highway—the house where I’d grown up a disappearing speck in my rearview mirror.