stomach. I miss Collin so much, and I hope and pray that he’s okay as I take a deep breath and try to concentrate on what’s to come.
“Brianna?” Wes calls.
I jump when he enters the conference room. I didn’t even hear that creepy robotic voice when he scanned himself in. Grief has completely consumed me.
“Carol and Bill are just outside,” he says. “Are you ready to meet them?”
I somehow manage to nod. He gives me a reassuring smile, then opens the door wider. I swallow the lump in my throat when an older man and woman walk in.
The woman gasps, her hands flying to her mouth. She’s tall with long dark hair streaked with gray. Strong shoulders fill out her button-up blouse. She’s wearing jeans and sturdy boots. At first glance, I would have assumed she was a rancher’s middle-aged wife. I never would have guessed that she was seventy-five and the grandmother of eleven grandchildren.
The man also looks fit and younger than his years. Salt and pepper hair covers his head, and the scent of Old Spice aftershave wafts toward me.
“Hi.” I bite my lip, not sure what else to do.
But my grandmother doesn’t hesitate. She rushes forward and pulls me into a hug. “You look just like her,” she whispers and clings to me. “I can’t believe how much you look like her.”
Despite vowing that I wouldn’t let this meeting get me emotional, a lump forms in my throat again. After an awkward second of me just standing there, I tentatively hug her back, and when her embrace only tightens, I slowly melt into her.
Even though she’s athletic, there’s some softness to her, and a cloud of scented detergent wafts up from her clothing. She smells good, clean, and a part of me feels like … I’ve come home.
My grandfather joins in and before I can stop myself, I begin crying. The emotions come from out of nowhere. I’m not sure if it’s my fear and frustration about Collin, or if it’s twenty years of bottled-up anger, loss, and the sense of abandonment from my mother’s suicide that comes pouring out. Whatever the case, I completely lose it.
I cry and cry, and they continue to hold me. They rock me gently, crooning to me, rubbing my head, and sliding their hands up and down my back. I get lost in their embrace and don’t have the wherewithal to snap myself out of it.
My grandma’s crying, too, and out of the corner of my eye I see Wes leave the room and close the door behind him. I’m a complete mess, and I’m guessing he doesn’t want to get wrapped up in this.
We’re left alone and another few minutes pass before I manage to sniffle and wipe the tears from my eyes. I pull back, shuffling my feet. Warmth fills my cheeks as embarrassment floods me. I dab at my eyes with my shirt before my grandfather hands me a tissue.
“I’m so sorry,” I say and wipe at the tears again. “I don’t know what came over me.”
My grandmother just smiles through her tears, and I’m so relieved to see it’s not only me. Wetness coats her cheeks, and her eyebrows pinch together. “Oh, sweetie. I can only imagine what you’ve been through. When Bill and I found out about Bridget—” She brings her hand to her chest. “We couldn’t believe it. We thought she died long before you were born.”
“But we’re so glad we have you,” my grandpa says. He squeezes my shoulder, then pulls out one of the boardroom table chairs for me.
I collapse onto it, grateful for their kindness.
They sit beside me, and I squeeze my grandma’s hand. It’s crazy how quickly I’ve become comfortable with them. “Do you miss her?” I ask.
She nods. “Every day.”
I avert my gaze, not sure how to ask what’s been eating me up ever since I found out.
My grandma nudges me. “What is it, sweetheart?”
I let out a breath, hoping she won’t hate me for being so damned angry at my mom that I would throttle her if she appeared again, but I can’t help it. I have to know. “But how could she do that to me? She left me on my own, with a human father, knowing that I’m half-werewolf. She had to know that I could have also suffered from depression, that I could have gone down the same road as her. How could she do that? She couldn’t have loved me at all.”