Page 436 of Pucking Feral: Part Two

Ivy hugs her back and immediately starts complimenting the porch flowers, which is the fastest way to my mother's heart and Ivy figured that out quick.

I'm next, getting a tight squeeze and hard pats on my back.

Then she turns to Wraith.

She takes a deep breath to brace herself, and he's doing the same, both of them hovering a few feet apart. Then she lifts her eyes to him, and reaches up at the same time, gesturing for him to come closer.

Wraith hesitates, then bends and steps up onto the first porch stair with one leg. He's eye level with her as she wraps her arms around his neck and holds on.

She doesn't screw her eyes shut this time.

This time, when she pulls away, she lifts her hand to his jaw. Her palm settles right over his teeth.

She pats him twice.

"You look good," she says. "But you need a haircut."

Wraith goes completely still, blinking. His blue eyes flick to her hand and back to her face, wide with shock.

"Don't look at me like that," Mom says briskly, letting go and turning for the door. "You look like a sheepdog. Come in, all of you, it's freezing and I've got the oven going."

Wraith stares after her.

His hand comes up to his own face, touching where she just patted him, then drops.

Ivy slips her hand into his and squeezes without saying anything, beaming from ear to ear, and he follows her inside.

I stand on the porch for a second longer than I need to, keeping my eyes on the moon above and my hands in my pockets so I keep my shit together.

Because after my mother saw Wraith's face the first time, when he was just a kid and the gaiter slipped, she sobbed for hours while he hid and had to listen to every second of it. I told Ivy this, once, and it's one of those things that replays in my head.

It was only a few weeks before the caseworker came. And then there was a lot of gentle language about being overwhelmed and not being equipped, and how he needed specialized care they couldn't provide.

They still say that's why.

I've never once believed that's the whole of it, and I've never once said so out loud, and I never will, because he loves them, and he doesn't blame them at all.

I do blame them.

He doesn't know that.

But sometimes, I have to put aside my feelings about shit or it'll eat me alive. This is one of those things. Wraith is endlessly forgiving. He isn't like me. My parents' strained relationship with the alpha who became my brother will always be a thorn in my side.

But tonight, she touched his face.

And for once, the lump in my throat is easier to swallow.

I follow them inside, drifting automatically toward the dining room since that's where all the voices and the scent of food are coming from.

We're having eggplant parm tonight. It's in the middle of the table, bubbling in a glass dish, no meat anywhere to be seen. She didn't need to be reminded this time. I tried to, via text, but she told me I was silly, and of course she knew Wraith was a vegetarian.

Wraith stares at the eggplant parm, then turns to sign a quick thanks to my mother. She waves him off, flustered, and starts serving everyone way too much of everything.

Dad pours wine. Ivy sits in Wraith's lap again, which my parents have now decided is simply her "culture," which is fucking hilarious and mortifying at the same time. My father is still raising his eyebrows about it.

"Thane, you're looking well fed," Mom says, setting a plate in front of me.

I groan into my hands. "Seriously?"