also turns this look on Finn. “Then why did you call me your pup?”
Finn’s eyes pop wide. “Oh!” He laughs self-consciously, and throws a look at me and Charlotte before squatting down until he’s nearer to her face level.
Immediately, Deek flattens to the floor.
Staying lower than the alpha, I realize.
Finn absently pats him on the head, and his shoulder brushes mine as he takes one of Maggie’s hands. “That word means… well, when I used it, I was really telling you that you were being uppity but cute.”
“Uppity?” Maggie asks.
Finn continues to murmur an explanation to her. I stand and rivet my attention back on Ginny—and on Charlotte. I spread my hands. “Explain the day to me.”
They do, their retelling ending by Ginny getting emotional as she explains that Finn took her mom to the Pack, where she’ll detox and get rehab by trustworthy individuals who know what they’re doing.
I move to take the seat beside her on the couch, and tug her to my chest, cupping my hands over her head. “Oh, honey. I’m sorry about your mom. I hope this really helps her.”
Sniffling into me, she cries, “She’s tried rehab before and it never sticks! B-bu-but F-ff-Finn says she doesn’t have a chu-choice this time. They’ll make her clean up for good—or else!” she sobs.
I send a shocked, scathing look at Finn.
For the first time, his roguish charm is not on display. His features are serious, edging into stern. “Susan, you know I think the world of you. Respect the hell out of your spirit. But you aren’t Pack. You don’t understand how and why we operate how we do.” He nods to the broken girl in my arms. “She’s going to learn, and her mam is about to too.”
Deek, still low on the floor by Maggie, somehow manages to ambulate without standing—he crawls with the speed and agility of a centipede, snaking quickly into the kitchen and slamming into the basement door.
Maggie makes a sad little worried noise. “Hang on, Deek. I’ll let you down there to hide.”
Finn throws him a mildly disapproving look. “You’ve got the six-year-old looking out for you like a battery counselor, Jaysus.”
I stare at him.
Finn sees my look and holds up his hands. “That was a joke. We do not batter our wolves.” When I don’t thaw, he drops his face into his hands and groans long and low. “This night has gone so tits up it isn’t funny.”
“I’m ruining your work shirt,” Ginny whimpers to me, still crying. Charlotte passes her a Kleenex.
“It was already ruined, sweetheart. Don’t worry,” I tell her. I reach over her and rub Charlotte’s arm, because she looks as if she’s about two seconds from crying for her friend. Maggie returns from letting Deek in the basement to escape the drama.
“This is jus’ grand,” Finn says, and he squeezes the bridge of his nose before dropping his hand and pinning me with a look. “I need you to shelve the máthair béar for me. All right?” He gestures to Ginny. “Her mam shows up at your house today demanding Charlotte send her out. She starts hollerin’ and makin’ a right show of herself. Now if she wasn’t werewolf, if our girl Ginny here wasn’t wolf, guess where this night would see them?”
A rock rolls into my stomach, because I know exactly what would have happened if Finn and Deek hadn’t intervened. Ginny would have to go with her mom. The only way to avoid that would be to involve the authorities—Child Protective Services will make a record of everything Ginny tells them.
But two outcomes come from hauling in the police and CPS: Ginny makes her mom mad and potentially gets sent to a temporary foster home until it gets legally sorted out and decided on, or Ginny is sent home with her angry mom… and Ginny’s mom’s angry boyfriend.
I circle Ginny’s arm and slide my fingers down to her bruised wrist. Wordlessly, I hold her hand up, and over her head, I pointedly look at Finn. What about the jerk who did this to this girl?
Finn’s smile is a slash of shocking cruelty—and satisfaction. “Awf, you don’t have to worry about that bleedin’ tick. He’s done.”
I can’t drum up a lick of remorse if Finn is saying he hurt him. I really like the idea. I give Finn a grateful bowing of my head.
His shoulders relax, dropping below the level of his ears, and his smile turns much less feral. “All right, that set the mood.