Page 57 of The Wolves of Forest Grove

Jared and Clay sat at opposite ends of the rectangular table, with Hazel and I sitting opposite one another on the longer sides.

The meal was almost suffocating, with words left to stagnate on tongues instead of gracing the air. At least the lasagna was fucking amazing.

“It’s really good,” I told Clay, giving him a small smile as I shoveled in another bite.

A part of me acknowledged it was no fresh ribeye, which I’d become partial to since my transition, but still—super good. Easily the best lasagna I’d ever had.

Clay grunted his thanks and went back to chewing, eyeing Jared across the table every so often. It was setting my teeth on edge. The quiet was getting to me.

And it seemed, it was getting to Hazel, too. After another few minutes of quiet eating, she slammed her cutlery down and looked between Jared and Clay as though she could see them.

“Alright,” she croaked, wiping the back of her hand over her mouth and then crossing her arms. “Out with it. Come on. Normally I can’t shut the pair of you up when I come for dinner, now I might as well be eating in a godsforsaken mausoleum.”

“Grams,” Clay groaned around a mouthful. Jared paled.

“Don’t Grams me, young man.” No one spoke.

You could cut the tension with a freaking knife. It was so thick. I itched to flee. Scarf down the rest of my plate and claim fatigue. Plead the fifth. Blow this popsicle stand as Dad would’ve said.

But I had a feeling I wouldn’t escape so easily, because now Hazel was looking directly at me.

“Alright, fine,” she said, the wrinkles around her milky eyes deepening. “If you won’t tell me what the problem is then I’ll tell you.”

Clay rolled his eyes.

“You’ve both bonded to the same mate,” she said. “It’s not how that sort of magic usually works.”

“Grams, could you not.”

“Hush,” she scolded, casting him a blind glare. He hushed.

“It’s not Allie’s fault,” she continued, and I felt a prickle at her mention of me. I’d been hoping she would keep this conversation between her grandson and his friend and leave me the hell out of it.

“And it’s neither of yours, either,” she finished.

“We know, Hazel,” Jared said tightly, moving what remained of his meal around on the plate in front of him.

“Do you now?”

Clay pushed away from the table to snatch the decanter from the fireplace mantle along with a glass. He poured himself a healthy half-glass and downed it in one gulp.

I drained the rest of the water from my cup and carefully skootched it his way.

His lips tightened, but he lifted the decanter to refill his glass and pour a measly ounce or so into mine. I swallowed it down, letting the burning warmth chase the anxiety from my veins.

He raised a brow at me. I mouthed what?

He shook his head.

Across the table Jared had his right hand fisted atop the polished wood. “He said he would back off.” Jared’s slightly glowing amber eyes flicked up to Clay for a second before falling back to the table.

Hazel cocked her head at Jared, then frowned. “And it was unfair of you to ask him to do so,” she chastised. “You know as well as anyone how the mating bond works, Jared.”

“I didn’t ask,” Jared spoke through gritted teeth.

I really didn’t like to see him so angry. He was kind.

Patient. Thoughtful. I wanted that Jared back.

“I offered,” Clay injected. “He didn’t ask me to.”

“What did you mean?” I interrupted before Hazel could say whatever it was that had her scowling at her grandson.

“About Jared knowing how the mating bond works…” I trailed off.

“I mean, how exactly does it work? I thought it was just this—uh—feeling. Like the bond makes you feel something for another shifter even if you don’t want to. ”

Hazel’s mouth dropped open. She reached over and swatted her Grandson on the arm, missing on the first attempt, but finding flesh on the second.

I winced.

Oops. Had I said something wrong?

“Do you really mean to tell me that neither of you have told her anything useful?”

Clay rubbed the back of his head, subdued.

Jared sighed. “There hasn’t exactly been time, Hazel.”

And I hadn’t even been ready to talk about any of it until very recently, and that was only because I was too busy being a coward. Too busy pretending nothing had ever happened. That I wasn’t part wolf, when clearly, I was.

“Well, dear, allow me to enlighten you.”

Jared grabbed his plate and rose from his seat, reaching out a hand for mine. I passed it to him with a hastily whispered thanks and watched his stiff back as he retreated to the kitchen, away from this conversation.

Clay sat still, sipping his whiskey, not looking at either his grandmother, nor me, but at a water spot in the tabletop.

“A wolf only mates once,” she began. But that didn’t make sense. “But—”

“You’re an exception,” she added. “And I think you know why.”

My stomach turned.

“Why is that exactly?” Clay asked, his voice a dark whisper as he stared at me, imploring me to explain myself.

I opened my mouth, but no sound came out. It was like there was a cork there in my throat and the words couldn’t get past.

Hazel waited; one brow slightly raised. She, too, was pushing me to tell them.

An ache formed in my chest and I pushed my cup back at Clay, who filled it again, this time with two ounces of whiskey. I sipped it and took a long breath.

The clatter of dishes in the kitchen had paused and I knew Jared was now listening too.

“You don’t have to tell us,” Jared called in a light tone.

But he was wrong. He deserved to know why this had happened. That it was my fault.

My fingers tightened around the glass in my hand atop the table until I was afraid it might break and released it, clutching my fingers together in fists instead.

“I was two once,” I said in barely a whisper, repeating the phrasing Hazel had used that first time we met.

When she read something in my palm, or maybe in my soul.

“What does that mean?” Clay asked.

I gulped. “I was a twin,” I explained, finding that now that the cork had been released, the words were there, ready to gush out.

“My mom was pregnant with twins. Her and my Dad were so happy. They had names picked out almost as soon as they found out. One would be Allie, and the other…” My voice broke.

I hadn’t spoken her name out loud, not ever.

I took another pull of the whiskey to steady myself and then pushed the glass away. “April.”

Clay didn’t push me any further, but I had to tell them the rest. The rest was the reason this had happened to me—to us.

“It’s called vanishing twin syndrome—when one twin absorbs the other.” I told them; my voice oddly disconnected now. “April was never born.”

“Because she became a part of you,” Hazel said, and even though I knew her words were meant to be reassuring, uplifting, they only stung.

One crib had to be given away. One little wooden stool with the name April carved into the top was tucked away in the back of the closet, not to be found until I was eight years old.

I found other things then too, in that same closet.

A box of old ultrasound photos depicting two fetuses’.

A photo album with a hand stitched cover that read in a delicate script April and Allie—devoid of any photos.

When my father went to the hospital that day with my mom, he already knew he would be leaving with one baby instead of the two they had originally thought they would have. A later ultrasound confirmed that I’d absorbed my sister.

But what he didn’t know was that the daughter he would take home with him would be at fault for not one death—but two. Complications in the birth had taken my mother from him, too.

And so, a man raised a daughter without his wife.

And a daughter grew up without a mother or the sister she was promised.

I flicked away a hot tear from my eye before anyone could see it. There was a reason I didn’t think about it. My mind fought against the swell of guilty thoughts and dark clouds. It’s your fault they’re dead.

“And this is why you’ve both mated to Allie,” Hazel told the guys, her voice holding none of the acid it had before. Now she was speaking softly, gently. “The mating bond is fused to the immortal soul.”

Jared fell back into his chair at the table. I could feel his eyes on me but didn’t look up to meet his stare. “And Allie has two,” Jared finished for Hazel, exhaling long and hard.

“Exactly,” Hazel said. “And you both mated to her. Each of you holds a part of her soul and she a part of each of yours. It cannot be undone. It cannot be changed. Only death can sever it.”

I peered up at Hazel, a weight on my chest. “You mean they’ll never mate with anyone else? Like, ever?”

Hazel shook her head solemnly. “I’m afraid not, dear. Not as long as you’re living.” She crossed her arms over her chest and leaned back. “If my grandson idiotically tries to fight the bond and allows Jared to have you, then he will never mate to another. He will be alone for as long as you live.”

Clay’s expression darkened and he looked into the bottom of his glass like it might have an answer for him. A way out of this mess. I wished it was that simple.

Hazel tilted her head to the side, cracking her neck and sighing. “I suggest you lot get used to the idea of sharing.”