Daddy’s Mail Order Mate (Twilight Meadows Wolves #3)

Chapter 3 - Gwen

One luggage case, a duffel bag, and three boxes.

I stare at the contents of my old sedan’s trunk, counting them off again.

It was more than I usually had to my name as a kid when we moved. The pack I’d grown up in, the Cherrygrove Pack, had been pretty migratory and no-frills. That old school borderline survivalist mentality meant we only really kept the essentials, as they were the only things worth hauling around.

And hopefully, I won't have to brush the dust off that old mentality.

My phone goes off with the distinctive ping of the mail order app in my back pocket. There’s a little clench in my throat as I reach for it and take a look at the latest message.

Lonebriar: Are you sure you don’t need anything else? I can send more to cover any unexpected costs.

I huff, the corner of my mouth playing up.

I’d been talking with my match for about a week now. He was…

My weight cocks to one hip as I thumb out a quick reply.

Redhart: I’m sure. You already sent plenty. More than enough to cover gas, meals, and then some.

Lonebriar: If your car’s at risk of giving out on you, I can always send someone to come get you.

Redhart: I’ll be fine. Like I said before, I’m meeting up with my brother on the way and he can always grab me if it gives up the ghost.

Though I would really appreciate it if the universe would let me at least have my car for a bit longer. It’d be nice to not be potentially stuck out in the woods with a relative stranger, and be forced to depend solely on my brother if I needed to get out all of a sudden.

Not that I was strictly worried that Lonebriar was the sort of person I’d need to escape from. If he was, we wouldn’t have gotten this far. But I knew better than to ever be complacent. The rug can always get pulled out from under you.

Lonebriar: If you’re sure. Please let me know if you need any help.

Redhart: Will do. See you soon.

Lonebriar: Looking forward to it.

But so far, he seemed pretty solid. If love was something I could think about without dying a bit more inside, I might even have been able to say he was my type. The man seemed honest, practical, and not the sort to play games. He’d been quick to lay out the fact that he was a single father looking to find someone to help raise his infant son with, worked a job that had him away on a pretty regular basis, and he had no interest in joining a pack. We started off with rattling off facts and figuring out if this was compatible at all, and once that cleared, our conversations were decently pleasant. He wasn’t too chatty, especially since I knew he was busy all the time with work and his kid. But I liked his straight-forwardness, and he wasn’t entirely humorless. We’d exchanged a bit of dry banter that was a bit fun, so he probably was decent company in person.

All in all, we seemed to line up pretty well in our intentions. And it didn’t hurt that when we started discussing the idea of doing the bridal trial, he was quick to put down money to cover traveling expenses. Not that I’d let him strictly know that I was getting evicted, couldn’t find work, and was borderline broke. A stranger with everything to gain from backing me into a corner doesn’t need to know that I might not have a lot of options right now. When you are perpetually powerless, you learn what you need to hide and how you need to bluff to keep yourself safe.

I tuck my phone away, shut the trunk, and load in for a long drive. The first few hours are going to just be me, my thoughts and some driving playlists. It’ll be as good a time as any to get my fill of comfortable solitude before I meet up with my brother and need to go through introductions.

Nerves flutter in my chest at the thought. Hopefully it’s going to go well. This is going to be the first time in two years that I’ve intentionally met a new shifter. I’ve mostly been living my life skirting along the human world after Cherrygrove fell apart when I was twenty. Lucas was more inclined to roam around and lean into the vagrant wolf life, but I was done with that world by the time I could choose to be free of it.

But maybe this will be my chance to have a little corner of this hidden world to myself. Maybe even a family, with a mate who cares about me and a child to look after who won’t be punished for being born from a faulty shifter that had gotten rejected by her fated mate.

Mate.

That is such a loaded word. It had once been one of my first real joys, but has tortured me for most of my life since.

I twist the key in the ignition, get some rock going, and flip the bird to my old rotting apartment building before pulling off.

This is my last ditch effort, hinging from my old life to the chance for a new one. And if this didn’t work, it was back to the drawing board. But as I reflexively hum along to the lyrics, I can’t help but hope that it works. Not just for my own sake, either. My match seems like he is doing his best to be a solid guy and look after his baby; pretty commendable in my book, and I know pretty well how hard that could be. My mother had raised me and Lucas on her own, and the rest of the pack hadn’t exactly been too supportive of us. That’s neither here nor there though.

For now, I try to focus on the present. I sing to familiar songs, follow the map obediently running along the route on my phone, and try to not psych myself out.

After a few hours cruising along, I finally get some respite from the road as I roll up on a rather worn looking roadside diner. It’s not that it looked run down or anything, just that it had the distinct weathered look unique to these sorts of restaurants that loiter along the open road.

And at least Lucas’ big red monstrosity of a truck makes it easy to tell that he’s already here. I’m glad he was able to take the time away from his job and pack to come help me out with this. Though I know he’d have been livid if I’d gone and done this on my own anyway. I wasn’t too keen on the idea of showing up as a lone woman to some random rural property myself. And in case anything was off, he will be able to shift if it comes to violence and get us both out of there. By myself, I’d be a sitting duck if some random wolf decided to turn on me.

When I head inside, it’s as easy to find Lucas as it was to spot his truck. He’s hunkered down in one of the booths, sticking out like a sore thumb with how he looms a good head and shoulders over the bench even with his stooped back.

I come up behind him and he turns before I even say anything; yet another subtle marker of the gap between me and ‘real’ wolves.

“Hey Gwen,” he greets with a smile, standing up to immediately take me into one of his classic bear hugs.

“Hey. Thanks again.”

“Anytime. Seriously, all you have to do is ask.”

“I know,” I reply while we both settle down into our respective spots.

He picks up his glass of coke and stares at me a second, clearly appraising me.

“You look a bit tense.”

“Just stiff from the drive.”

“Your eyebrows too?”

“What can I say, it’s bright out there and I broke my sunglasses a few days ago.”

“Jesus Gwen. You really have terrible luck.”

I guffaw, smirking bitterly.

“Yeah, no kidding.”

He shifts awkwardly and flashes me one of his classic charming smiles all the same.

“Well, maybe this is where it turns around. It is pretty lucky your match lives close to me! I can swing by, or you can visit me if you feel up for it.”

The thought of going to his pack makes my stomach churn.

“Do you want to make me more tense? Because that’s a good way to do it.”

“I thought you weren’t tense,” he chides.

I shrug a shoulder and am mercifully spared from having to come up with a retort thanks to the waitress coming up to get my drink order in. I make the most of her swinging by to just pick something quick off the menu, not wanting to waste too much time with hemming and hawing over a meal I’d be too anxious to really taste.

Once she heads off, Lucas leans in, speaking in a more furtive tone.

“But you don’t have anything to worry about. I’m going to be right there with you,” my brother insists, reaching over to put his hand over mine.

I give the back of his hand a light pat to accept the gesture before pulling my hands back to myself.

“Yeah. I know.”

“And I sure as shit won’t let some asshole hurt you again. Not after what that motherfucker did to you.”

My gut drops and my throat tightens, and I feel my mouth tighten to a braced line. I'd been fighting off those thoughts all goddamn day, and here my brother was, dragging it out into the stark light of day.

“Reject my sister? Absolute asshole. I almost up and left Elm Wood when I realized they associated with Portsmill because of that bastard. But he's not in it anymore, and apparently it's a lot better these days; Eli, uh, my Alpha, sat me down and convinced me.”

My hands twitch on the table. Nausea wells up in my gut and my throat chokes in an invisible vice grip. Part of my mind screams to stand up and walk away now.

A memory burns like a brand across my mind, taking only an instant but feeling like I lurch through all the years between now and then.

I'm seventeen again. There’s the distant smell of a campfire dusting over the rot of autumn leaves. Cold, deadened brown eyes stare down at me, set in the face of the boy who had been my boyfriend up until that moment. The golden light of the house shines through his black hair like a halo; he was always so heartwrenchingly handsome, and still is within my memories. But even then, his beauty in that moment made the uncanny calm of his voice even more surreal to hear.

“I’m not just breaking up with you. I reject you, Gwen,” Thorn utters. “I reject our mate bond.”

I feel the urge to just drive back, call this whole thing off, and swear to never deal with wolves again. It wells up in me, acrid and awful, and my mind feels like a dull roar as I struggle to hear my brother ramble on.

“But I can't believe his fucking sister's the Luna now,” Lucas seethes before settling back against the booth with a sigh. “She was a good kid though, and I can't blame her for her dumbshit brother's decisions.”

“Well isn't that a heartwarming underdog story,” I lurch back into reality with a deadpan remark, my voice dull to my own ears. “Guess not all of us undesirables stay that way forever.”

Lucas tenses, and I see the stricken realization move across his face. Wounded irritation stirs in my before he can even start mustering the apologies.

“Hey, Gwen, I'm sorry—”

I wave my hand faintly, doing my best to keep it from being sharp and fighting to look unphased.

“It's fine. Let's just have lunch in peace and get ready to meet this guy, alright?”

He nods. Despite how big and muscular he is, the tender sheepish look he gives me just makes him look like a schoolboy who just got told off. But I don't have it in me to properly assure him—it's taking all I can to just get myself centered enough to even be willing to go through with this still.

I cram the memories and old hurts to the back of my mind, and cram the burger I ordered into my mouth just the same. And I’d been right; by the time we start walking out to our cars, I can’t remember what my food had even tasted like.

My brother pulls his truck out first, as he’d insisted on taking the lead for the rest of the drive. I watch him through my rear view and only have the will to turn on my own engine once he starts cruising gently onto the main road.

“Come on, you can’t back out now,” I urge myself beneath my breath, gritting my way through the spike of nerves.

But I can’t help the fact that I’m practically white-knuckling my steering wheel the whole way there. It honestly is a good idea that Lucas took point; I might have gotten too in my own head if I didn’t have that obnoxious red truck to mindlessly trail after. I’m so worked up that I don’t even have the mind to turn my music back on and merely drive in restless silence, heart in my throat.

Eventually the highway gives way to narrow wooded back roads, and soon enough our wheels crunch on gravel and dirt as our little caravan pulls up to a lone property. It’s a pretty house; I’d only been able to see the roof from the satellite map when I looked up the address, and it looked decently sized. It’s a relatively new construction from how pristine the siding and porch are—maybe a few years old? There’s a hanging swing on the porch that adds a rustic touch, though it doesn’t have any other furnishing or decoration besides that. A black SUV sits parked in the driveway in front of us, and I see Lucas’ protective nature at work with how he blocks it in with his truck to make sure that there’s no way it could get out unless the truck got moved. I silently take the time to use the wider entrance to get my car parked backwards. Either it’ll make it more convenient to load my stuff out into the house, or faster to make a quick getaway.

I stare that the lane back out, my car’s engine idling like a dull purr around me.

There’s a knock on my window, and I flinch, eyes wide.

It’s just Lucas. He’s hunched over to look at me through the window, a brow quirked in questioning concern. I force my face into a stoic mask, nod, and start getting ready to load out. He pops the car door open for me and offers me a hand. I don’t make use of it—I don’t need him to feel how much I’m shaking. He looks a bit deflated, but politely shuts the car door after me all the same.

Both of us make the short trek up onto the porch, and Lucas looks down at me expectantly.

“Surprised no one’s come out to see us yet. Well… You ready?”

I force a little nod and reach past him to ring the doorbell.

There’s relative silence at first. But then, muffled through the door, I catch the edge of footsteps and the contented babble of a baby. The door hinges open…

And my mind goes blank.

Standing on the other side of it is a tall man—not as massive as my brother, but not that far off. His jet black hair is combed back into a loose coif, styled in a way that is both careless yet dashingly professional. Stern black brows shroud over rich brown eyes that are set with a sort of angularity that I can only describe as predatory. His mouth is set in a taut line, but the lips are deceptively full, and the fine jaw below kept clean shaven. And while he was dressed in a crisp button shirt and slacks, the majesty of his powerful physique was undeniable beneath the deceptively white collar styling.

Every once in a while, I would dream of my childhood ex, my fated mate who had rejected me. My memories often summon him as he was. Sometimes, they'd try and conjure up some image of how he might be now as an adult.

And as I stare up at him, he looks exactly and yet nothing like my subconscious had designed. But without a single word or move, I know it’s him just from a look alone.

And if that wasn't enough, the crippling drop in my body and a keening twitch of my long latent wolf seals the deal. It is a sickening, ugly sensation, like every nerve ending is getting ground down and twisted beneath a sledgehammer. All I feel are dualities: yearning and scorn, hope and despair, love and hate…

Because in spite of everything, there is still some fragment of me that loves him, and I don't know how much of it is the wolf and how much of it is me . It burns white-hot and scorches everything around it, and I wish I could somehow open up my mouth and keep it from suffocating me alive.

“Gwen,” he breathes out.

Something in me swells, and I can feel his name starting to bubble up my throat.

“Thorn.”

But then all I can see is Lucas’ back, and he growls, sharp and vicious. If he'd shifted into a wolf, I know his ridge would be all the way up.

No, I feel something in me urge.

Not again.