“Dad’s happy here,” Eva explained. “We might not want to part with the house, but the truth is, living there without Mom was hell.” For months, Eva had wandered her home half expecting to find her mother in her favorite chair reading a book. The door would open on an evening, and for just a second, she’d forget her mother was never coming home from work again. Living there meant enduring the repeated pain of her death. In a way, it had been a relief to put Zackary in a van and drive away; his turning had brought them all a distraction from the sorrow they suffered daily.
John nodded. Her father sighed. “Anywhere without her is hell, but yes, being here has kept me busy.”
Hiding a yawn behind her hand, Eva took in her father. He looked far older than he did a year ago; stress and grief had aged him. She wished she could heal some of his pain, but the awful truth was, her father would likely spend the rest of his life alone, mourning the wife he’d lost.
“It will be all right, Dad,” Eva promised, taking her father’s hand.
“Will it?” His eyes held hers, the emptiest she’d seen them.
“Eventually. We promised Mom we’d not stay sad forever, remember?”
Chuckling sadly, he replied, “I remember you and Zac promising, I, on the other hand, wisely kept my mouth closed.”
Smiling tightly, Eva squeezed his hand. The memory of the day she’s promised her mom filling her mind — her father had stayed quiet. She on the other hand had agreed even though she’d known it was a promise she’d most likely break, because happiness was impossible without her mom. And if there was moments filled with laughter, guilt shortly followed. “It’s late. I think we should all get some sleep and talk more tomorrow,” Eva suggested. She didn’t have the energy for lifting her father’s spirits, or her own for that matter.
“Yes, you’re right. I best go check on Zac anyway.”
He stood, and Eva forced her tired, sore body to follow suit. “Night, Dad. I love you.”
“Love you too, Eva girl.” He smiled, then turned to John and nodded.
Watching her father leave, Eva had the distinct feeling he’d left all his sorrow behind. She was drowning in it, searching for a way out, but she’d been searching for months and hadn’t found away. Maybe her father was right; maybe she should return to college and carry on with her plan for vet school. Yet when she thought of leaving, it didn’t feel like moving forward at all, but backward. Back to a life that died along with her mother.
“How are you feeling?” John asked once they were alone.
“Like I could stay in bed for a week and still be tired.”
He laughed. “Then to bed with you.”
“I’m kinda hungry too.”
“Bed. I’ll bring you something. If I’m allowed in your room, of course?”
She smiled, walking away. “It depends on how good the meal is you bring me.”
His eyes widened in alarm. “I’m guessing a peanut butter and jelly sandwich isn’t going to do then?”
Her answer was laughter and a closed door in his face. John had kissed her. He’d bossed her about as if they were together. If he intended to keep doing those things, Eva was going to have to make him work for it. Nope, a PB and J sandwich is definitely not going to do.
Chapter 9
John
He’d faced death more times than he could count, protected his home and pack without fear, yet Eva’s challenge threw him for a loop. John didn’t know what her favorite food was, whether she preferred sweet over savory. He didn’t know much at all, apart from the increasing intensity of the pull toward her.
“Okay, you’ve got this, John,” he muttered to himself as he jogged over to the pack kitchen. He might not have known what to bring her, but he knew it wasn’t going to be found in his near-empty cupboards.
Kerry smiled as he entered. The place was empty and would most likely stay that way until early morning shift change, but Kerry was often in here into the small hours of the morning. She didn’t need to be and had been told many times to not work so late, but the head chef had lost her mate years ago and preferred to keep herself busy rather than dwell on the missing half of her soul. “Why do you look so worried?” she asked, coming out from behind the main counter to meet him.
Lowering himself to her level, John double-checked once again that they were alone before whispering, “Can you keep a secret?”
Her eyes sparkled with intrigue. “Go on.”
“I’m trying to impress a woman and have no idea what to feed her.”
Her laughter was bright, the pat to his chest a move his mother often made and instantly made him feel young. “Don’t you worry, John. I’ve got you covered. Follow me.”
Entering the kitchen behind her, John was hit with a number of smells, the strongest being the sour tang coming from covered bowls. “What’s in there?” he asked, wrinkling up his nose.
“Sourdough. It’s why I’m still up. I wanted to get them ready, so they can ferment overnight before baking in the morning.”
“You spoil us,” John murmured.
“It keeps an old lady busy,” she replied. “Right then, this pasta dish is leftover from a special batch I made earlier for Cassady. She’s been craving it nonstop.”
“I’m not sure it’s wise to steal a pregnant lady’s food,” John answered. Cassady might look fragile and cumbersome with her huge belly, but John wasn’t a fool. The woman was lethal before being pregnant, and she’d be just as much, if not more, with child.
“Nonsense. Besides, she’s
