Romance Rules for Werewolves (Charming Cove, #3)(71)

I smiled and followed them, making sure that Isobel and Poa made it inside before I shut the door. I didn’t know when the cat had shown up, but she didn’t seem bothered that she was walking into a house full of werewolves. My parents liked cats, at least.

The house had been decorated since I’d been there last, redone in shades of cream and muted green, but the bones were familiar. My father led us into the living room while my mother went into the kitchen. Within seconds, she was back with a platter full of cake and small plates.

“The kettle is on, tea bags already in the cups,” she said. “Randall, you can get the tea when the kettle goes off.”

“That was quick,” Isobel said.

“Well, we had a town meeting as soon as everyone remembered Rafe.” She set down the tray on the coffee table, then took a seat next to my father. “We all agreed that the town would search while we waited here.”

My father shook his head. “I wanted to go out and look, of course, but your mother insisted we be here if you turned up. Now I’m glad we were.”

“The whole town is looking?” I asked, stunned.

“Every last one of them.” My father shook his head. “Even that Wiley boy that you beat in pool after your A-level results day.”

I grinned. Calvin Wiley had been furious.

It was so strange to think of the past and have memories to go along with it.

The kettle went off in the kitchen, and my father hopped up.

“What’s happened in the last decade?” I asked.

“Well, not much,” my mother said. “The pack is still doing well. Your father and I have been out of sorts, obviously, unable to understand why there was such a hole in our life.” She gave a weary, almost bitter laugh. “Turns out we had a son.”

“And you just remembered me?”

“At eight p.m. last Tuesday.” She shook her head and blew out a breath. “Just sat up in bed and burst into tears.”

“Oh, Mum. I’m sorry I didn’t find you sooner.”

“We’re going to discuss that, young man. You should have come home right away. Or at least called.”

Guilt struck. “But you knew I was alive.”

“We did, yes. In your defense, I could feel that you were still alive and well. I would have known if my only son were gone.”

“So no harm done.” I didn’t look at Isobel. The last thing I needed was my mother to blame her for my absence, when it was really about me and wanting to do what was right by her, as well as getting my head on straight.

My father returned with the tea, and my mother began to serve the marmalade cake that had been my favorite since I was a child. I looked at Isobel, feeling something in my chest tighten at the sight of her with my family.

My mate.

I still hadn’t told her. It wasn’t something that non-shifters understood, and I didn’t want to scare her off.

“So, we’ll be having a party tonight,” my mother said. “I’ve already told everyone in town that you’re back, and they’re coming over for a big celebration.”

“When did you have time to do that?” I asked.

“I texted Barb while I was in the kitchen. She took care of the rest.”

“Barb. Of course.” She’d been my mother’s best friend since childhood, and she could definitely get the word out to the whole town.

“I just can’t wait until you move back!” she said. “Obviously, you can stay with us. But there’s also a new cottage for sale just down the road. It’s lovely.”

I nodded, uncertain of what to say.

“Lay off him, honey,” my father said. “The boy just got back.”

“Fine, fine. The party starts in a few hours, anyway. I need to get ready.” She looked at me. “You’re helping me. In fact, you’re not leaving my sight the whole night.”

It was clingy, but I couldn’t blame her. I’d disappeared on her for ten years. I owed her some serious time. “I’d love to.”

“Isobel, dear, do you want to rest?” my mother asked her.

“No, I can help with whatever you need.”

“Excellent.” My mother stood up and clapped. “Let’s get ready for the party!”





Chapter

Thirty





Isobel



Rafe’s family was absolutely wonderful. As a kid, I’d often dreamt about what the perfect family might be like. There were a dozen different iterations of the fantasy, but now I knew that I’d found the perfect one.

For one, they adored Rafe. Both of his parents clearly thought he was the most perfect person in the world, and I could tell that he adored them right back.

We spent a lovely afternoon preparing for the party that would happen down on the rocky beach later that night. My heart ached every time I saw Rafe looking perfect in this environment, because I knew he’d come back here to live. But it was a selfish ache. I was happy for him. Genuinely.

Still, sad for me.

But I did my best to ignore it as I stood at the drinks table that night, filling plastic cups of wine for the first guests. I didn’t know who to mingle with, and I liked having something to do with my hands.

This afternoon, I’d helped Rafe’s father set up tables and chairs on the beach. Most people were mingling while standing up, though they would probably sit to eat later. A barbecue was smoking away at the edge of the beach, and the table where I stood was covered in bottles of wine and buckets filled with ice and chilled lager.