Page 12

S tanding in Kyle Morris’s office, I feel like a child again as he chastises me for not only upsetting Darby but also causing Dayton undue stress in an already tenuous pregnancy.

“How many times do you want me to say I’m sorry?” I ask, my attitude not helping with the situation. I came here, taking Declan’s advice, to smooth things over with the tiger alpha. He just so happens to be one of my best friends, but also my future brother-in-law.

“Your behavior was callous,” Kyle argues, crossing his arms over his barrel chest. “What were you thinking?”

“I wasn’t, really,” I respond sheepishly.

Falling into a chair in front of his desk, my head hangs in shame.

“I attacked Declan when he showed up at the restaurant smelling like her. It got worse when Daegyn met her before I did, too. My bear went off the rails, almost forcing a shift to track her down.”

Kyle’s eyes get as big as saucers at my confession.

“Seriously,” he responds in an awed tone.

Silence fills the space, each of us lost in our thoughts.

“Look.” I break the building tension, rubbing a hand across the back of my neck. “I am sorry,” I say again, in my most sincere voice. “The last thing I intended was to upset your mate. Or mine, for that matter.” The moment he accepts my apology is evident as Kyle’s posture becomes more relaxed.

“Yeah, okay, just keep your stalking to a minimum, please?” Kyle asks, his lips twitching as he fights the building laughter. “You need to take these with you, though.” He points to the pile of items I had delivered to his house.

“Fuuucck,” I say on a groan.

“Dude,” Kyle says, now outright laughing at me. “Darby is going to be a tough nut to crack.” My bear rumbles in my chest, causing Kyle’s brows to rise toward his hairline.

“Ignore him,” I grumble.

“Is there anything else you bought, Darby, that I need to be prepared for?” Kyle asks, raising a single eyebrow in question.

Heat creeps up my neck and into my face, causing me to hesitate. After a brief moment of silence, I rush out my words, hoping that Kyle doesn’t understand them.

“Iboughtheranengagementring,” I say, running the entire sentence into one long word.

Kyle stares at me, blinking owlishly, as his mouth opens and closes with no words coming out.

He tilts his head at an angle, staring at me.

The gears in his head are turning at a high rate of speed as he sifts through my words.

I can tell the exact moment he figures it out, right before his face shows surprise.

“You bought her an engagement ring?” he asks in bewilderment right before he starts laughing.

The prick laughs so damn hard that he falls out of his chair with a loud thud.

Cobi, Kyle’s sister and garage receptionist, rushes into the office to see what happened.

Her eyes widen in shock when she spots her brother rolling on the floor, tears of laughter streaking down his cheeks.

Shaking her head in bewilderment, Cobi leaves the pair of us alone, muttering under her breath, too softly for me to understand over the volume of Kyle’s laughter. I wait him out, picking at my fingernails.

“Are you finished yet, asshole? I have to get back to the restaurant,” I say flatly.

A hand pops up, just over the top of the desk, dismissing me with a wave. “Don’t forget to take your gifts ,” Kyle adds from the floor, emphasizing the word gifts. It takes me two trips to collect all the rejected presents I sent to Darby. My mind is already spinning on how to win over my mate.

Tomorrow is Christmas Eve, and we’ve been busy all day with people stopping by to grab a bite to eat or pick up gift certificates as a last-minute gift. It’s a nice reprieve, keeping my mind away from thoughts of Darby and how to make things right.

“Declan,” I call to my cousin on my way to one of the kiosks where we enter orders. “Can you make a delivery for me?”

“Since when do we make deliveries?” he snarks in return.

My shoulders sag in defeat. I shouldn’t have to explain myself damn it. “It’s to go to Kyle Morris’s house,” I state flatly. A variety of emotions pass over Declan’s face, but thankfully, he keeps his trap shut.

“Yeah, I’ll take it,” he says before walking away.

The overwhelming need to provide for my mate threatens to pull me under.

I know that there are at least four of them in the house, including Darby and Kali.

Unsure if they have any other company, I decide to send over enough food for eight people.

It’s overkill, I know, but if they have company, there will be enough to go around.

If not, they have leftovers and won’t have to cook another meal.

Without knowing what Darby might like, I place an order for a variety of menu options, including the meal they had ordered the previous evening. I add on twice as many dessert options, hoping to smooth over any lingering hurt feelings.

Twenty minutes later, Declan is moving through the dining room with a massive box in his arms.

“Dude, is there anything on our menu that you didn’t have made for them?” Declan grumbles, feigning to struggle under the weight of the large box.

“Just deliver it,” I gripe back, turning away from him as he heads outside.

Darby

Headlights flash across the front of the house, as if someone just pulled into the driveway. I get up to investigate, looking out the front window, just in time to see Declan struggling under the weight of a large box he is pulling out of the backseat of his car.

Rushing to open the door, I make it just as he juggles his parcel in an attempt to knock.

“What the hell?” I ask, stepping out of the way, allowing him to enter. The smell of grilled meat precedes any response he may have had.

“Compliments of your mate,” Declan says as he walks past me. Reaching the kitchen counter, he sets the box down. As he begins to remove the multitude of takeout containers, Kyle, Kali, and Fiora converge on the mini-buffet laid out on the counter.

“Arek sent this over. He wasn’t sure if you had company or not, so he sent extra,” Declan states, finally acknowledging my question. His gaze falls on Fiora, and a large smile spreads across his lips.

“Hello,” Declan says in a charming and flirtatious voice. “I don’t think we’ve met before. Declan Palmer.” He holds his hand out for Fiora to shake.

“Fiora Valenhart,” she says sheepishly, quickly gripping his hand before releasing it as if she got burned. Declan gets a puzzled look on his face before giving his head a quick shake.

“Where’s Dayton?” Declan asks, changing the subject.

“She’s lying down, she isn’t feeling well,” Kyle responds, his concern evident.

“Hopefully this helps a little,” Declan volleys, offering Kyle a soft smile. “Well, I have to get back to Simmer Down. The place has been a madhouse all day.” Without a backward glance, he lets himself out of the house and leaves.

“These portions are massive,” Fiora states in awe.

“Kyle, go see if Dayton wants to join us or eat in bed,” I say, refusing to recognize the kindness of the delivered meal. “I will make up a plate for her.” While Arek gets credit for the kind gesture, this doesn’t let him off the hook whatsoever.

All of us are stuffed from consuming most of the obscene amount of food Arek sent over.

Through the course of the evening, we hang out in the living room binge-watching our favorite holiday movies, each of us picking one.

The snow has started to fall a little heavier, creating a beautiful aesthetic against all the decorative lights on the exterior of the houses in the neighborhood.

Dayton smothers another yawn, and Kyle declares it’s time for her to get some rest. We say our goodnights, and just before Fiora tries to escape, I grip her wrist, tugging her back down to the couch next to me. As soon as I know we are alone, I pounce.

“All right, I have given you time to settle in,” I say, turning slightly to face her, putting my back against the arm of the couch. “What happened?”

“What do you mean?” she volleys, refusing to make eye contact with me.

“I know you,” I say flatly. “You confront people who piss you off. When I spoke to you last night, I could tell there is more to your story and why you want to escape Lancaster, besides finding out you are adopted.” I narrow my eyes at her, patiently waiting Fiora out as she squirms under my scrutiny.

“Fine,” she groans, adding an eye roll to punctuate her annoyance that I won’t let her blow me off.

“As I told you, I came across my adoption certificate when I was helping my mom wrap gifts.” Fiora pauses, and I wait her out.

If I rush her, she will spit out a very abridged version of events.

I need the whole story in order to help her with whatever issue she is running from.

“When I took it out to my mom, who was making cookies, she waved me off. Mom is she still my mom?” she asks herself before shaking her head and continuing to speak as if the issue isn’t something she can deal with at the moment.

“Anyway, Mom acted like it was no big deal. I mean, in the grand scheme of things, it doesn’t matter, right?

“Trying to comprehend why it was this big secret, and then acting like me finding out and being upset was too difficult to understand, I bolted from the house. Somehow, I guess out of habit, I ended up at Dylan’s house.”

My nose wrinkles in disgust at the mention of that name. What Dylan and Sally Jo did to my friend is beyond despicable. Fiora nods at the look on my face before picking her story back up where she left off.

“Of course, Sally Jo was there.” Fiora rolls her eyes at that, and I feign a gagging motion in agreement. “I had arrived right after they did an early gift exchange of presents,” she sneers. She slumps, defeatedly, into the couch, pausing her story as if to collect her thoughts.

“The asshole had just proposed,” Fiora says, squeezing her eyes closed tightly, mentally envisioning the event again. “Sally Jo stuck her hand in my face as soon as she realized that I was there, flaunting the ring.”

“Good, they deserve each other,” I snark, causing Fiora’s lips to tip up in a smirk. “They, because I refuse to say their names, get to spend eternity, or until they get divorced, making each other miserable.”

Fiora takes a moment before her smirk converts to a soft smile. “Yeah.”

Cocking my head, I look at my friend. The only noise is the movie in the background.

“What aren’t you telling me?” I ask, pushing her for the rest.

Fiora closes her eyes, her head tipping back to rest on the edge of the couch cushion.

“I’m not really sure,” she answers as her eyes remain closed. Boring a hole through the side of Fiora’s head, I will her to just spit out whatever she is holding back. When she remains silent, I push, unable to wait any longer.

“What do you mean, you aren’t sure?”

“My brother, Michael, was holding me. The pungent smell of burning wood surrounded us. Smudges of soot were all over his face.” Fiora is rambling, her words disjointed.

“I’m confused,” I voice, causing Fiora to roll her head toward me, her eyes opening to meet mine.

“Welcome to the club,” she says with a humorless laugh. “Anger, hurt, so many emotions flooded me that I sort of blacked out. I remember stumbling backward, wanting to leave. Home wasn’t an option, as I wasn’t ready to face my parents yet.”

“Okaaayyy,” I say, drawing out the word. Pieces of the puzzle are still missing. Either Fiora doesn’t want to give them to me, or she is blatantly holding them back.

“Michael has to keep my secret now,” she says as tears start to track down her cheeks.

“What secret?” I screech, cringing at the shrillness of my voice. Frustration is taking hold of me, and I squeeze my hands into fists to stop myself from grabbing Fiora by the shoulders and shaking the words from her.

“I set the barn on fire,” she says, her eyes drifting closed again. “Michael saved me, pulled me out as the fire department arrived. He hid me, kept me safe, as we got lost in the chaos.”

Opening and closing my mouth, I am stunned silent. What does a person say to that?

“Do you know for sure that you started the fire?” I ask, stating the obvious and speaking in a soft tone so as not to spook my friend. Her head shakes back and forth, still resting against the couch cushion.

“No, that’s where things get a little fuzzy.

Panic overwhelmed me, but it didn’t feel like it was mine.

Anger was also present, which was definitely mine.

It was almost as if I were having an out-of-body experience.

You know how people state that they are watching their bodies, either as if they are floating above or from someone else’s eyes? ”

“Yeah,” I quip, not entirely sure that I do. My voice gives me away as Fiora rolls her eyes at me, indicating she doesn’t believe me for a minute, but doesn’t bother to call me out on it.

“Anyway, that’s what it was like. I was me but wasn’t. I’m not sure how else to describe it.”

I want to summarize what Fiora just spewed at me, but she seems to have checked out. I turn my attention to the television, not wanting to make her uncomfortable as I sift through her story.

“I’m going to bed,” she announces, rising to her feet. “Good night.”

“Good night,” I volley, moving to get the pillow and blankets I stashed out here earlier.

I’m not used to the snow and cold, so while I typically run hot at night, layers are my best bet right now.

I make up the couch, and as soon as I am comfortable, or as comfortable as I am going to get, I shut the television off.

That night, sleep became elusive. Dreams plagued by fire had me tossing and turning all night.