mam—all the cousins. You poor sap, you will never live this down!” he wheezes.
Maggie puffs out a slightly aggravated but still ladylike breath. She makes the tiniest tsking sound. “Well, it’s time for lunch. I’m going to feed Deek sandwiches. I know how to make them by myself.”
“That’s good, sweetheart,” he manages in his thick accent. Then, with obvious, hopefully painful effort, he struggles and manages to get himself under control. “Awright, you two have a good lunch then. If you need me, find Deek’s phone and call me or your mam. Okay?”
“All right.”
Finn smiles at her. “Close and lock the door now.”
Maggie does.
“Good garl!” he calls. “I’m off. Bye you two.”
“Goodbye,” Maggie calls back. Then she huffs and puts her hand on my shoulder, turning and indicating I should turn with her and follow her into the kitchen.
Without protest, I do. But I keep my pace dutifully matched to hers so she can replace my barrettes as we go.
CHAPTER 13
LUCAN
The clock on the wall chimes little singsong cheeps at three. Shortly after, keys rattle outside the door, and girls’ laughter can be heard as Charlotte shoves open the door and walks in with Ginny.
They both stop short when they get a look at the transformation of the living room. All the sofa cushions, from here and from the couch in the basement, have formed fort walls. A bedsheet messily drapes over this, and inside it all is Maggie, sleeping collapsed over my side.
I’m stretched out, my muzzle on my paws, my ears relaxed. I’m trying not to pant, but this little girl stopped feeling warm and cute about a half an hour ago (okay, she’s still cute) and now she just feels like she’s reached that stage right before we both turn into molten lava.
“Hey Deek,” Charlotte whispers, reaching behind herself very slowly. “Don’t move. I have to take a picture of this for Mom.”
Seems the sight of little girls, werewolves, and bows brings out the budding photographer in everyone.
“Got it,” she whispers, grinning. She slides it back into her pocket.
“Wait,” Ginny murmurs. “I’m taking some too.” To my surprise, she’s also smiling. “There! Thanks.”
I close my eyes.
“Awwww,” they breathe. I hear cell phones come back out of pockets. “He looks like he’s sleeping now. That makes the picture so much cuter.”
I chuff at them, making them laugh softly.
The girls unload their backpacks and get after-school snacks and lunch. Maggie wakes up and greets them, gets lunchmeat from the fridge, and bribes me with it so she can attempt braiding the fur on my tail again.
It’s too short, but she’s determined.
She and I eventually make our way to the backyard, where I water the family’s two piddly trees, and Maggie and I play hide-and-go-seek. Which is more like just chase me because there’s really nothing to hide behind.
When we head back inside, Charlotte suggests setting the room back to rights, and Maggie begins to do that. I tug some cushions over, surprised when Ginny brushes past me to help. She even scritches my head like she can’t help herself.
I guess she’s either forgiven me for grabbing her yesterday, or I don’t seem as threatening to her when I’m in my wolf form.
That a girl has learned to fear men but trust wolves is… sad.
We all sit on the restored L-shaped couch and the ladies admire my bows until someone knocks on the door.
“Who is it now?” Maggie exclaims like the house has had more traffic than Grand Central Station.
Ginny has gone still beside me.
“I’ll get it,” Charlotte whispers.
Ginny swipes her backpack from the floor and swiftly disappears.
I trot to the door with Charlotte, and when she cracks it open, the smell of the woman on the other side has all my attention.
I can tell from similar scent markers that it’s Ginny’s mom.
Scent markers also indicate that Ginny’s mom is half Jack Daniels at the moment.
“Hi, Ms. Connolly,” Charlotte says with false brightness.
Looking unkempt, unwell, and too thin, the woman weaves on her feet and asks, “Is Ginny here?”
She almost knocks me off my feet with her breath. My God. She’s a walking distillery.
“It’s just me and Maggie watching TV,” Charlotte replies. Which, considering Ginny ducked into Charlotte’s room, is almost not quite a lie.
“Have you seen her?” Ms. Connolly asks. Her eyes glint with a soft, liquor glassiness.
Charlotte nods. “She was at school today. Have you tried calling her?”
The soft glaze in Ms. Connolly’s eyes sharpens to belligerence. “Phone’s off. Has been for two days, ever since—” she cuts