“It’s cozy. I love it.”
We walk upstairs. East and River have left to get groceries, and Cal’s job is to make sure I get settled in.
He shows me the three bedrooms—iron bed frames and steamer trunks and small identifying markers of each of the men. Cal helps me figure out which room is whose. River’s room has a ton of journals on the desk. Cal has the hunting knives, and East has the Frisbees.
“Why do you like old-fashioned things. most women I’ve met wants things modern and new. They wouldn’t be thrilled with the idea of moving into a dead woman’s house.”
We head to the bathroom at the end of the hall—with a claw foot tub, in all its perfect enamel glory. Cal turns on the shower, and I sit on the toilet while it heats up.
“I may look like a girl from the other side of the tracks, but I think every girl, somewhere deep inside, dreams of a space that is inviting, nestled deep in the woods, safe from the storms of the world.” Twisting the ends of my hair, I avoid his eyes. “Or maybe that’s just me. A girl who remembers packing every worldly possession in a black plastic garbage bag before being dropped off at yet another foster home. Like I was nothing but trash.”
Cal kneels in front of me, his arms wrapped around me. “Oh shit, Rem, you’ve been through hell.”
I laugh sharply. “Yeah, you could say that.”
I tell him about Sadie. How I ended up here—leaving out the murderous part, for obvious reasons—and Cal’s surefire self-possession fades. When I tell him my story he seems genuinely broken up.
“We’re so lucky you took Sadie’s offer.”
“I mean that much to you?”
He leans his head to the side. “I bet it’s hard to believe anyone would want you after all you’ve been through.”
I swallow back tears. Accepting his kindness is the hardest thing in the world.
“So, why’d you leave Sadie’s after you just got there?” he asks.
I can’t tell him I killed a man. He might throw me out thinking I’m a monster. Maybe he’ll never look me in the eye again. And maybe it’s selfish—to want to stay in this home, with these men, even though I don’t deserve it—but I can’t help myself. Avoiding his question, I say, “I think the shower’s ready.”
“Oh.” Cal’s eyebrows crease and he stands. “I’ll let you be, then.”
He moves to go, and I grab ahold of his wrist. “Don’t leave.”
“You sure?”
I nod.
He moves toward me, lifting the hem of my shirt up and over my head. Silently we undress one another. His t-shirt and my jeans and then, our everything. He steps into the shower, pulling me in after him. The hot water runs over our skin, washing away my confession of where I come from. Except when I look into Callum’s eyes and see that he remembers my story. All of it.
“Don’t pity me,” I say softly. “I’m stronger than I look, remember?”
“I believe it, Rem. But maybe, maybe you don’t have to be strong right now. Maybe you can be gentle with yourself, with your story.”
“Gentle?” I look at him with eyes cloaked in sadness. I wouldn’t know how to be gentle if I tried.
He runs the bar of soap over my bare skin, his hands firmly on my hips—not letting me go. “Last night you were pretty tender.”
I roll my eyes playfully. “Last night I was horny.”
“And what are you now?” Cal asks, his hand moving lower, between my legs, causing my breath to catch. His fingers seem to know exactly where to go.
“Now, it seems, I am yours.”
Chapter 12
Remedy
The next few days pass in a blur. I sleep, a lot. And it’s not because of the pregnancy—it’s because it’s been forever since I’ve had a warm bed to sleep in. The guys tease me for being such a sleepyhead, but I know they understand how much it means for me to have a place to rest where I’m not sleeping with one eye open.
In the afternoons, River pulls out an old game of Scrabble and we make words out of tiles, sitting on the floor of the living room. Today there is a beautiful fire in front of us. Hot cocoa with whipped cream in mugs on the coffee table. It is like make-believe— all this perfection.
River keeps score, looking impressed when I get a seven-letter word.
“What, you didn’t expect me to have such a good vocabulary?” I ask, eyebrows raised.
He shakes his head. “That’s not what I was thinking at all.”
“Tell me then.”
He leans close, his fingers running the length of my thigh. “I was thinking how you are everything I’ve ever wanted.”
I shake my head, almost imperceptibly. Not wanting to believe the words he says. Because it’s too much—the idea that I might be enough.
“You’re just saying that because you might have knocked me up.”
“I did knock you up.”
“Well, you mean, one of you guys did.” I’ve taken a pregnancy test—and even though it makes zero sense that it could already read positive—it does.
“No, all of us. You keep forgetting that when you mated, you mated with all of us.”
I twist my lips. “Feels a little too good to be true, doesn’t it?”
River smiles. “So, you’re saying you like me?”
I laugh, rolling my eyes, as he grabs my waist, tickling me. “Yes, River, I like you.” He loosens his hold and our foreheads touch. “I do like you. So much. It just feels a little like magic. The whole three daddies thing.”
River tilts his head to the side. “And you don’t believe in magic?”
“Do you?”
He shakes his head, looking back at his Scrabble tiles. “I grew up shifting into a wolf, Rem. Yes, I believe in magic. All kinds of it, in fact.”
“And finding me, was that magic too?”
He picks up his wooden tiles, forming a word. “You aren’t the only one getting a seven-letter bonus.” He places his tiles on the board.
D-E-S-T-I-N-Y
I bite my bottom lip, steadying myself. I don’t know how this happened—but it is happening.
My life is changing whether I like it or not.
But for the first time in literally forever, I do like it.
I like it so much it actually hurts.
*
After explaining my past with Callum, I tell East and River too, wanting us all to be on the same page. It’s hard— they know things about me I always try to hide, but at the same time, they have seen me in a state no one else ever has—as a freaking wolf.
And so, I tell them all the gory details of my childhood—the fucked-up foster moms and the perky foster dads. I tell them about why I got separated from Sadie all those years ago, why I got kicked out of art school—how I constantly screw myself over.
In some ways, I want my past to shock them—horrify them even, make them rethink their decision to keep me here.
Because, to be honest, I kinda feel like I’m using them.
And maybe leaving now, before my heart is all wrapped up in theirs, would be for the best.
I’ve told myself this for three days straight, but then I wake up and see their smiling faces and I can’t bear to go.
Like I said, I’m selfish.