Page 57

Gwen

“H appy Christmas Eve,” I told Tenzin and Clark over a video call, as I laid on my very comfortable bed, in my childhood bedroom. I’d forgotten how nice my mattress was. They’d gotten me a fancy one when I’d been recovering from my broken hip, back when my mom was sick.

“Happy Christmas Eve. Do you do anything special? We’re having a bonfire.” Clark sat in the kitchen of his parent’s house, eating pie, with a chicken on his lap.

“Everyone comes over for a big seafood feast. I mean everyone –including uncles, aunties, cousins, and people who are basically family,” I replied. My room wasn’t pink and sparkly anymore. When I’d returned after I broke my hip I’d changed it to lavender with hints of amethyst. There were lots of fairy lights too, so I wouldn’t be afraid of the dark, and, of course, my Dumas painting.

I still couldn’t believe it was real.

There was also a shelf of books, a purple bean bag, a closet of clothes that didn’t fit, too-small hockey equipment, shelves of old awards and trophies, pictures of my mom, a desk, and boxes of my stuff from Nonna’s.

One of which I was sorting through now, looking for photos and things to take back with me. I wanted to get these tasks done sooner rather than later, in case I needed to escape. I didn’t have time to do it yesterday. So far, everything has been okay, but with my family, things could go to shit in a matter of seconds.

“Happy Christmas Eve, Precious.” Tenzin sat on a couch holding Asher, who was wrapped in one of the blankets I’d dyed. A giant dog was with him. “I don’t know what’s happening tonight. Tomorrow, we’re going to have breakfast and do presents. Given they're a couple of weeks old, I think Morgan gets to open them on their behalf. Not sure what I’ll do later, other than go back to Cooter’s and call you two.”

His phone showed a tree that was decorated stylishly, like it was in a department store, with tons of fancily wrapped presents crowded under it.

“Sounds good. Gweny, everything’s still okay? People are being nice to you?” Clark took a sip of coffee.

“Yeah, after we decorated cookies, we had dinner and watched a movie. It was fine. Luca’s girls are adorable. Sof was nice to me and her kids were sweet and very well behaved. I might take Isa’s fashionista toddlers home with me. No one would notice, right?” I grinned. “Today’s been fine, too. Joe helped me wrap my presents. We’re having a big seafood dinner tonight. But tomorrow’s Christmas. Even before everything, things tended to go fuck-tangular on Christmas, because everyone is usually there with their packs and stuff.”

“Maricella and Chiara aren’t coming, right?” Tenzin asked, as he absently pet the giant dog.

“Papa says they’re not invited. I started looking at the spreadsheets. It’s still weird.” I searched through a box of photos.

“It means they listened to you. I like your line of thought that this is all for the future you. Having a safety-net in our line of work is good,” Tenzin said.

“True.” Our careers were always one injury or scandal away from ending, and that could happen at any time. Even before we had a chance to save for it.

I still had feelings.

“I like your idea of doing good with some of it,” Clark told me. “Think of all the meals you could get for the meal boards at all the places you go to. Didn’t one of the shelters you and the MASOs got presents for need a water heater?”

“You’re right. That’s an amazing idea.” I texted Patrice, since she was the one with the contact for that shelter. “Yeah, when I get back to New York, want to come with me and buy meals and coffees for all the boards?” Since that was something I could do immediately.

“Yes. Oooh, if you want, we could get lots of comic books for the kids. Give them to the hospital and the shelters, oh, and put them in all the little share libraries. Can you imagine? We’ll take your motorcycle and go all over the city filling them up like comic book vigilantes.” Clark did a giddy dance.

“That is the best idea.” I loved the idea of going around the city, leaving comic books for kids to read.

Oh, there it is. The photo was of me and Gramps in his red truck at the holiday parade. The letter from my grandparents also made me cry.

"Look. Meet my truck, Bessy." I showed them the photo.

Clark sucked in a breath. “Yeah, bring that with you?”

“Maybe we start with my motorcycle? Go from there?” I told him. Bessy was a cranky old girl and might not enjoy city life. And I still lacked any sort of license.

Tenzin growled a little. Someone thrust another baby on Tenzin’s lap.

“We think Imogen’s in labor and we’re taking her to the hospital. Please watch the babies?” a male voice said.

“Oh, she’s early right?” Tenzin looked startled.

“A little. It should be fine. You can call Morgan’s mom if you need help. I’ll call you as soon as we can.” The person ran back out of the room.

“I should tend to my small charges. Oh, look, I think someone needs a change.” Tenzin nuzzled Bean, while patting Squiggles' diaper puff butt. Bean had pale red hair, like Luca’s little girls.

Oh, my ovaries. Yeah, one day, when I was done playing hockey, I’d dad that man up.

“Okay. I don’t mean to vent again, this is such a gift. I'm excited about Nonna’s house. My treehouse is still there, too.” I hugged a picture of me and the grandparents at Once Upon A Snowflake to me.

“It’s alright to feel conflicted,” Tenzin assured.

“Completely. I was surprised I have two entire bedroom sets in the attic–and they’re giving me a table–so I can only imagine how you’d feel,” Clark told me.

He’d sent pictures of the beautiful woodwork. One of those sets was going in his room, in the townhouse. That table was coming, too.

Clark sighed. “I should go. I need to chop more wood, possibly help with the cinnamon pinecones for the bonfire.”

We said our I Love Yous, and I got back to work. Most of this could be donated, though Giulia might like some things.

I finished my task and tucked everything away into a duffle that would be easy to grab if I had to make a run for it.

Pulling down the ladder in the closet, I went into my attic hideaway. It wasn’t nearly as dusty as I expected. There was a big pink bean bag, lots of blankets, fairy lights, a bunch of stuffies that were old friends, and a shelf of my comfort books, as well as a few special mementos.

This was the place I went to hide when I was home. It was the treehouse at Nonna’s.

I took a few things to add to my bag, then removed the loose floorboards.

Carefully, I took out the preservation box with the two dresses of Mom’s I’d hidden from my sisters. They were already divvying up her things before her will was even read. They’d completely dismissed what I wanted, to the point where some of them took things she specifically wanted me to have.

I brought the box downstairs, so I could try them on later with Isa and see if they could be made to fit me. Verity’s shorter sister had cut down a dress she didn’t like and made it into a cocktail dress for Verity. Maybe I’d do the same.

Then I returned to the spreadsheets. The first was started by the dads and filled with detailed entries. G’s portion of inheritance from Nonno D. Remainder of first car fund. Inheritance from Nonna Luci’s estate.

Wow. Nonna Luci was generous. I should learn more about her.

There were also detailed deductions, like a payment for Officer Jones’ family. I was glad they’d listened. Because I didn’t need all this money.

Oooh, I should donate some money to the university lacrosse team he’d played on.

I’d also read the letter my mom had written to my dads about me, including the gifts I should get for which holidays, up through university, how much to spend on my wedding, when I got what sort of party, and so many other things.

It made me cry. It was very thorough and thoughtful, since clearly it was to make sure I didn’t feel forgotten, given she was the one that managed these sorts of things. The dads also said I could still have everything she detailed going forward.

It was also wild. Did they really spend that much on my sibling’s weddings?

While part of it seemed like a waste, part of me wanted to try to spend that much on my wedding, when it finally happened. After all, flying Clark’s entire family out to Italy wouldn’t be cheap.

And if I wanted Marty to be ring-tiger, I’d need to bring out Trixie to care for him, and her pack, of course.

I clicked over to the spreadsheet for that account that was never theirs. How was this all mine?

It was an Italian bank and started off with a forwarded bank balance. Huh. Monthly payments of regular amounts, from two separate places, started not long after I was born, then stopped when I turned eighteen. It looked like they were pensions from Italy. There were also a couple of large deposits.

This wasn’t Mom’s.

Chiara’s words about not being one of them came back to me. But my brother had said I wasn’t an affair baby. I mean, the parents would never cheat.

Whose pension was I getting? And why?

Grabbing my laptop, I went downstairs, the need to know consuming me. Most of the kids were all in the kitchen, helping make buttery almond cookies, under the watchful eye of Sof, Aldo, and Luca’s omega.

While they smelled nice, I liked my chocolate ones better.

Some family members were in the living room, catching up.

Papa was in his office, just where I expected, getting things done, so he could enjoy the next two days. I hesitated at the doorway.

“Hi, Buttons.” He beamed at me. “Come in. Did you find the pictures you wanted?”

I nodded. “Hey, did I ever go to Venice when I was little? I had these brief flashes of memories, when looking through photos. Riding the gondola with you and Mom. This building with red flowers. An old lady who pinched my cheeks.”

His look went blank.

“I imagined it. Got it.” I nodded.

“No, we did. You were just so small. Me, you, and your mother left everyone at the castle and went there to handle some things.” His look became soft. “Did you have questions?”

“Can I just deduct my house money from the house money in the letter from Mom, instead of taking it from my accounts?” I asked. I mean, I might as well.

“If you’re okay with it, yes. Also, asking for paperwork isn’t trying to deny you access, it’s to protect you. It was the same for all your siblings,” he told me.

“I understand protecting assets. I am curious about the Italian account. You said it’s all mine?” I put the laptop down, so he could see the detailed spreadsheet.

“That is truly your money, and only yours. We can’t touch it. You’re old enough to access it as you wish, though it’s held in an Italian bank.” Salty sadness rolled off him.

I bit my lower lip. “Whose pension is it?”

“There you are, Buttons. Papa, get her jewelry out of the safe? Your clothes are here and it’s dress-up time.” Isa burst through the door, an almost-toddler on her hip. She was petite and delicate, even for an omega, and was maybe five feet, though she always wore heels. Her long, dark hair was impeccably styled, makeup done, outfit perfect, like she’d stepped out of a fashion photoshoot.

Annoyance shot through me. “Isa, we’re in the middle of something.”

She’d been at the hotel, so the babies could have their nap.

Papa squeezed my hand. “We’ll talk about this later. It’s nothing to fret over.”

“Promise?” My belly was tight.

“Promise.” In a motion that wasn’t as smooth as it used to be, he stood and went to the safe, which was not behind a painting, or in a bookcase, but behind a wall panel.

Papa piled blue and black velvet cases and boxes on his desk. Each one said Buttons. Some had mom’s name underneath, some had other names, indicating who they’d belonged to. One was the necklace of Nonna Luci’s I’d already brought back, along with Mom’s dress.

Dad looked at the pile, and snatched two boxes, one large and flat, the other ring-size, and put it back into the safe before I could see what names were on them.

“Come on. Thanks, Papa.” Isa stood on her tip-toes and kissed him on the cheek, while gathering boxes in her arms. She didn’t look as much like mom as some of my siblings, but she had mom’s personality and mannerisms.

I took the rest, giving him a wary look.

He smoothed my brow with his fingers. “Nothing is wrong. It has to do with our visit to Venice.”

“When did you go to Venice?” Isa asked.

“The summer Joe taught Buttons how to slide down the banisters in the castle and she split her chin open,” Papa replied.

“Oh, you were so small. Come on.” Isa walked fast for someone so short, and I followed her down the hall and up the stairs. “Francoise would like to join us, since she’s a director and has a good eye. She’s a nice alpha, promise. You always liked her when you were younger.”

I wasn’t afraid of alphas, but I appreciated the sentiment.

Francoise was almost as tall and lithe as Verity. She had short, light-brown hair, green eyes, and aristocratic features. She was in my room, with a giant rack of clothes.

“Gwen.” Francoise gave me little air kisses. “Oh, I shouldn’t tell you, but guess who is directing an all-female led Defender League movie. Dr. Chaos’ invention malfunctions and makes all the men disappear. I know Aquatica is your favorite. She and the Scorpion play a big part in it. We film this summer and shoot some in Vancouver. Maybe you can come to the set?”

“You’re shitting my dick.” I put the boxes on the bed. “I’d love to come. Can I bring Clark, because he loves Defender League?”

He’d be over the moon.

“This is the one who wore the Professor Weird cape at the game and skated off with you over his shoulder?” She grinned.

I’d never live that down. But it was so hot.

“This is the other one. Wait, since when are you directing Defender League? It’s amazing, but does the castle need a new roof?” I grinned back.

Her look went pained. “More like plumbing and electrical. I’m open to painting trades.”

“I’m not trading my castle for a painting.” Isa rolled her eyes. “I contribute to the upkeep.”

“I do have clothes.” I twirled. I was wearing a sweater dress, from the boutique and leggings I’d gotten at athlete world with Mercy.

“I know.” Isa started pulling things from the rack. “But you’re in your last semester of uni. You’ll have interviews and graduation things and parties. I looked it up, the Knights have a big charity gala soon too.”

My eyebrows rose. “Interviews?”

“Well, yes, with your prospective teams. You can’t meet with PHL teams wearing suits from Athlete’s World.” Isa rolled her eyes, then thrust a red fluffy evening gown at me. She turned to the bed and started opening the velvet boxes.

I’d totally wear a suit from Athlete’s World if they sold them.

“Isa, I’m not wearing this to an interview.” The gown was… fussy.

“Well, no. This is for the gala. I’ve seen what the ladies wear. Last year your friend, the model, wore one of my gowns that she had hand embellished, like it wasn’t fancy enough.” She thrust a giant ass diamond and ruby necklace at me, along with a pair of earrings larger than the dining room chandelier.

Last year, I’d borrowed Bonnie’s excellent eighteenth dress for said gala. She and Maze had altered it with safety pins and sock tape in the locker room. Valya had helped with my hair and makeup. I’d dyed my hair blue to match it.

The year before, I’d let Mrs. Rodriguez dress me up in one of her daughters’ dresses. The party was a fundraiser to raise money for the Squire Foundation, which ran the Knights’ youth hockey program.

I adjusted my boobs. “I look like a red velvet cupcake.”

“You started something by wearing Mom’s Dubois to the hockey dance. You need to wear more Dubois gowns, and make it your signature, so that they sponsor you,” she told me. “I also have some Dubois suits on the rack.”

“Does Dubois sponsor people?” Why did I need a dress company as a sponsor? Also, make Dubois my signature? Privilege much?

“They dress people and have paid spokespeople,” she told me. “No, seriously. Dubois girls run the world is an amazing tagline.”

“That was all Mercy.” It was a pretty picture.

“You should wear mom’s dress again in a year or two. There’s nothing wrong with repeating dresses, as long as you space things out and change up your accessories.”

“Zia G, you look like a princess. Can we play dress-up with you?” Giulia was there, along with Sof’s daughter, Arrietty. Arrietty was a little older than Giulia and a young omega.

“Um, sure. There may be stuff I have in my closet you two might like to have. I don’t fit in those things anymore.” I turned and snapped some mirror pics, then sent them to Valya and Mercy.

I didn’t really know Arrietty, but she seemed very kind. The two of them rummaged through my closet.

We played dress-up for what seemed like hours. Luca’s little girls joined in the fun. Meanwhile, Isa and I got caught up. It was nice to have sister time, and Francoise had a good eye.

“No, you cannot turn this into a cocktail dress.” Isa shook her head as I tried one of the dresses that I’d hidden. “I was wondering where those two dresses went. You have a thing for iconic Dubois’. Though I don’t blame you. Even at Vecci, we respect the House of Dubois.”

I lifted the skirts up. “It would be so cute, though. It’s too short for me to wear as is.”

“We’ll have it altered to midi.” She turned to Francoise.

“Mmmm, hi-low?” Francoise replied.

“I pretty.” Atly, Luca’s littlest daughter, came out of the closet, with one of my old unicorn goalie mask on her head. “I pretty goal-goal.”

“Yes, you are.” I took a video of the little redhead with Luca’s face, spinning in circles, professing that she was a pretty goal-goal, and sent it to all my hockey group chats.

Dressing her in the smallest of my goalie gear I could find, I sent her downstairs with Arrietty and Giulia, who were laughing hysterically.

While I had a nice pile of clothes, I only had a tiny pile of jewelry to take back. The rest I gathered up to put back in the safe. Most of this wasn’t practical for my current life.

“Gwen, you should keep more, so you look put together for once.” Isa pinched the bridge of her nose, in a way that was so much like mom, I started to cry.

“Oh, Buttons. Hey.” She gathered me in her arms. “I’m not trying to be mean.”

“You looked and sounded so much like mom.” I kept sobbing. “She’ll never tell me that ever again. Not at my graduation. Not at my wedding. She won’t walk me across the ice on graduating player night.”

When I was younger, I was notorious for trying to be underdressed for everything, because I enjoyed being comfortable.

“I know, baby. I know. I’m so, so sorry. She’d be so proud of you. Maybe not for consistently making the worst dressed MASO list, but she would be for things, like going to a good university and doing so well with hockey.” She kissed my forehead.

Francoise looked over at her and said in French, “I think she makes the lists on purpose.”

“What if I do?” I added in French.

“You do not.” Exasperation, again, so much like Mom’s, leaked out of her voice.

“I love you, Isa. Part of that love is annoying you.” I threw a scarf at her. It landed on the baby’s head, who started giggling.

My nephew Davey came up with Sof’s boys. “Do you have any more goalie gear? We want to jump off the shed.”

“Go for it.” I found everything I still had.

“Gwen.” Isa gave me a long-suffering look again, while Francoise tried not to laugh.

“Oh, come on, you used to jump off the roof into the pool with me and Joe.” I grinned and put all the jewelry I wasn’t taking back into a bag, to bring to Papa.

Luca came upstairs, holding Atly. “You're making my baby a goalie?”

“I was a pretty goal-goal at her age.” I helped take the gear off. That was back when the parents thought me playing was ‘just a phase’ and eventually I’d love figure skating more, because the outfits were pretty.

There was the sound of car doors and people outside. Who else was coming? Maybe someone’s packmates had run to the store? It could be some aunts, uncles or cousins. I hoped it was Lenny.

“Play with Atly.” Luca thrust Atly at me.

My stomach tightened. “What’s going on?”

Isa looked out the window and swore in French.

“She’s not invited. I’ll handle it.” Luca strode out of the room.

“The fucking audacity,” I muttered. I bet it was Maricella. My feelings always came second to hers.

I went to follow and Isa grabbed my hand. “Let the alphas handle it. Tell me about the cute babies your boy keeps sending pictures of?”

Tenzin had joined in the dress-up party, sending me silly pictures of Squiggles and Bean in all the little outfits they’d been given. He was still alone with the babies and trying to find ways to amuse himself.

“I will. But I can take care of myself.” I put Atley down, left my room, and hurried toward the stairs. It was time to deal with this.

“What do you mean, I’m not invited?” Maricella stood there in the living room, a hurt look on her face. Her kids, who were teenagers and pre-teens, held gifts in their arms. Some went to greet their cousins, aunts, and uncles.

“The dads asked you to sit this out,” Joe told her.

“He asked me not to come on Christmas. Which is fine, we’re flying out to go skiing, anyway. But it’s Christmas Eve. We always have dinner together. Go put the presents under the tree,” she told the kids.

“Hey kids, who wants cookies?” Babo, in a Christmas sweater, came out with forced cheer. He started rounding up all the kids, Maricella’s included, and getting them into the kitchen.

“Maricella, rabbit, I think it’s best for you to leave.” Popi stood there. “We asked you not to come, and we’d do a late Christmas with Chiara later.”

“Yes, and it’s Christmas Eve .” Her gaze fell to me. “Oh. She came . Are you really going to deny my kids a family tradition just because of her? My feelings matter more.”

Dario looked right at me. “Gabby, leave. This isn’t your actual family and you’re not welcome here.”

It was an alpha bark. Rage flared through me as the dads and some of my brothers growled. It also rolled right off me.

“Fuck off, Dario. They are so my real family.” I scratched my nose with my middle finger. While I didn’t like anyone in Maricella’s pack, I liked him least–and she liked him most. At least he wasn’t the head alpha.

Dario looked like I hit him. Several people looked surprised.

“Not her real family?” Popi gave him a hard alpha stare. “You dare bark my daughter in my house?”

“Auntie Ceci says she’s an affair baby. Isn’t that why you dumped her in another country? Her mom was dead, and you didn’t have to deal with her anymore?” Violet stood there, holding a cookie and a frown. She was an older teenager, old enough for the high-school portion of an omega academy.

Dad joined us, looking like he’d been punched in the gut. “Gwen is not an affair baby. How could you even say things like that? Let your children say things like that.” His eyes focused on Maricella. “Can you honestly think your mother would do that?”

“That’s what Luca told Chiara. It makes sense. Gabby’s always been an unwanted embarrassment.” Maricella scowled.

“Luca said what now?” I scowled at him.

“That’s not what I said.” Luca sighed, picking up Atly who’d started to cry.

“You said she had a different dad than the rest of us and that’s why she was the way she was. If none of our dads are her dad, then how’s she not an affair baby?” Maricella frowned.

“Let’s go to the kitchen with the others.” Popi led my niece Violet away, taking Atley from Luca. “Violet, honey, you shouldn’t say things like that. Your grandmother was an amazing woman–and your Zia G is nice if you’d take a moment to get to know her.”

Luca gave Maricella a scathing look. “Can’t you count? I know math is hard for Chiara, but you’re pretty good at it.”

“Um, I don’t think I can?” I had no idea what was going on.

“Maricella. I’m very disappointed in you. I made it clear that you were not to come until you returned from your skiing holiday. Also, Violet, or anyone, speaking ill of your mother–and your sister–is not okay in this house.” Papa showed up, giving her a look that could make even the most confident person a pile of incompetent sludge.

“Why should I be put aside for her?” Maricella’s voice went shrill.

She and Luca were toe-to-toe, as they often were in my memory. Luca towered over her, but she looked up at him like she could set him on fire with her gaze. She could be a real meany bossy pants sometimes. Well, that and some of them didn’t like how she treated me.

“Why are you so worried about me displacing you?” I blurted. “I could understand Joe or Isa having a little trouble adjusting after I was born. But you were a grown-ass woman, living away from home. You didn’t have to leave the academy to help raise me. You didn’t get less. I didn’t get your room. It’s also continued for over twenty years. Why am I a threat to you? Isn’t it time to get over yourself?”

She turned her head, ignoring me.

“Buttons is a beta who plays hockey, can out-stubborn the dads, and has no issue telling people to eff-off. Who do you think her dad is?” Luca looked like he couldn’t understand how she could be that dumb.

“Luca–” Papa warned. “Maricella doesn’t hate you, Buttons.”

“Oh, yes, I do. I wish you were never born.” Maricella lunged for me, her mates doing nothing to hold her back.

Dad blocked her from me.

My belly dropped as I fisted my hands, wishing I could clock my sister in her pretty face. Anger and confusion rose inside me. “What’s going on?”

“Why did I never see it,” Isa said, despite Papa looking at her like he wanted her to shut up. “It makes so much sense. She’s Daddy’s. ”