by Lori Drake
Joey took a deep breath and swallowed her lingering anger. Her mother was right. She couldn’t—shouldn’t—do this alone. Nodding, she tucked the note in her pocket. “All for one and one for all.”
He drew her in for a hug, but spoiled the moment by rubbing his knuckles against the top of her head. She pushed him away, laughing in spite of herself.
Brothers. Can’t live with ‘em, can’t live without ‘em.
Hours later, Joey caught up with Jon in the kitchen. Sara was reheating dinner for him. The maid went home after dinner, so anyone who arrived late was on their own. Emma wasn’t with them. That didn’t bode well.
“Dare I ask how it went?” Joey said and hopped onto an adjacent stool.
Jon glanced at her, in the process of rolling up his shirt sleeves. “I did the best I could, but it ain’t pretty. Arraignment is in the morning. I was able to get her put at the front of the docket, at least.” He paused, flashing his wife a grateful look as she set a fresh cup of espresso in front of him. Sara had more domestic inclinations in her pinky then Joey did in her whole body, but she took good care of Jon. He glanced at Joey again as he picked up the tiny cup and took a sip. “We need to talk.”
“Yeah, you missed the debriefing of the century. Sorry about that,” Joey replied, patting him on the back. “How much trouble is she in?”
“A lot of trouble,” Jon muttered around another sip of espresso. “I don’t know if I can keep her from doing jail time. I’m not even sure if I can get her out on bail. I talked to the DA, and with her history she’s considered a flight risk.”
Joey hadn’t considered that. She frowned, fiddling with one of the gold cuff links Jon had set aside. “I guess that would make things complicated. But a jury should sympathize with her, right? She made some mistakes, but she didn’t set out to hurt anyone.”
“You sure you have no interest in the law?” he asked, with a smirk.
Joey chuckled. “Maybe in another twenty or thirty years. I’m pretty happy with what I’m doing now.” Or, at least she had been. She sighed and tucked her hands under her arms, pushing the thought away in favor of the more pressing matters at hand.
Sara set a plate of food in front of Jon, distracting both siblings momentarily. It hadn’t been long since Joey ate, but her stomach rumbled as the aroma of roasted meat tickled her nostrils. Regeneration was hungry work.
“Is there any more of that?” she asked, with a hopeful smile. Sara nodded and headed for the fridge. “Thanks, Sara. You’re a peach.” Turning back to her brother, she caught him eyeing her. She knew he didn’t mind when Sara waited on him, but he was sensitive to others taking advantage of her. Sara was too submissive to say no to anyone. Joey turned the conversation back to Emma. “So, how is Emma doing? How much did she tell you?”
“Well, if the insanity she spouted is true, I didn’t actually talk to her,” Jon said and put a fork loaded with roast beef into his mouth.
Joey’s brows shot up. “Er, what?”
“You show me yours, I’ll show you mine.”
Frowning, Joey drummed her fingers on the counter. She really wanted to know what he’d meant by that, but she also knew better than to try and negotiate with Jon. He got the better of her when she did. Every damn time. With a resigned sigh, she launched into the second long-winded explanation of the day. Somewhere along the way, Sara set a plate of meat in front of her and she dived in gratefully, occasionally gesturing with her fork for emphasis.
“So, then we came home, I told everyone all of this and found out that Mom knew witches were real all along. She practically has the leader of the San Diego coven on speed dial.”
“Mmmhmm.” Jon nodded as he pushed his empty plate away, no more surprised than her mother had been.
Joey punched him in the arm, and not gently. “You knew too!” She glanced over at Sara, who had taken up a position leaning against the counter across from them. The damn woman was clearly struggling not to smile, covering her mouth with a loose fist.
“For fuck’s sake.” Joey grumbled, pushing her own plate away too. It wasn’t quite empty, but she didn’t want the rest anymore. “I hate you both.”
A quiet snort escaped Jon as he reached for his drink. “No you don’t. And don’t get your tail in a twist. It was the same way for all of us, in the dark until we weren’t. Ben still is, by the way. Or was. Anyway, your story lines up pretty well with what Chris said.”
Joey took in the information about family secrets with a thoughtful frown, but at the mention of Chris her eyes snapped to her brother again. “Did he leave a note in your mouth too? Because I’m starting to feel left out.”
Jon gave her a confused look. “I get the feeling there’s a story there, but I believe my explanation is owed first.”
“Damn right it is,” Joey muttered under her breath.
“Chris told me through Emma, about his situation and her plight.”
“Emma can talk to Chris?” Joey said, straightening on her stool.
“No, he said that he hopped into her body to stop her from doing something dangerous after the accident.”
Joey’s mind rewound to the time period in question. It was almost too fresh; she could practically taste the blood in her mouth, smell the scent of it all around her. Hers. Dean’s. Cheryl’s. “Shut her down,” she murmured.
“Huh?”
“Sorry, something Dean said. I thought he was talking to me at first, but he told Chris to handle it. Chris must have stopped her by taking over her body.”
“I take it you didn’t know he could do that?” Jon said after a pause.
“No,” Joey said, shaking her head. But Dean did. She thought about that a moment, then pressed on. “That might explain how he ratted me out to Sam, though. Sam found a mysterious note from Chris in his mouth.”
Jon chuckled. “Points for creativity, little brother.”
Joey rolled her eyes and blew out a sigh, rubbing her forehead. Her head was starting to hurt from all the intrigue, not to mention the stress of the day.
“Well, thanks for your help. I’m sorry you had to go in with such little information.”
Jon shrugged his broad shoulders and finished the last bit of his coffee. “Keeps me on my toes, I guess. But I do generally like to know what sort of minefield I’m walking into. I got to talk to Detective Harding again.”
“Oh?” Joey quirked a brow, making a point to collect the plates before she hopped down from her stool. Sara was a packmate, not the maid.
“He heard his person of interest had been arrested and wanted a chance to question her. I don’t think she’s going to be facing any murder charges, but they’ve got her dead to rights on false personation.” He held out a hand to Sara as she came around the island. She placed her hand in his and he lifted it to his lips.
“False personation? What’s that?” Joey asked.
“Pretending to be someone else to implicate them in a crime or, in this case, for personal gain.” Jon enfolded his wife’s small hand in both of his.
“But the money was actually hers,” Sara said, echoing Joey’s own thoughts.
“It doesn’t matter,” Jon said. “It wasn’t her bank account, so it’s still fraud. If they decide to be complete dicks about it, she could be looking at felony charges and as much as three years in prison.”
The plates slipped from Joey’s hands, landing in the sink with a clatter. She spun to regard her brother and his wife. “Three years?” she asked, incredulously.
Jon nodded, adding, “And up to a ten thousand dollar fine.”
“Christ on a cracker,” Joey muttered, sagging against the counter. Emma really was in over her head. She just hoped that Jon and Chris could keep her afloat.
Joey spent the rest of the evening giving Dean the cold shoulder. To say that she was annoyed with him would be an epic understatement. Her parents’ house was big enough that avoiding someone entirely was pretty easy, but she wanted him to know she was displeased. Wanted him to won
der why. Wanted to watch him squirm, until she finally let him have it.
It didn’t work out quite like she’d hoped.
“Anyone fancy a game of poker?” Sam asked, poking his head into the family room where Joey, Dean and Ben were flopped in front of the television.
“Hell yeah,” Ben said, pushing Joey’s legs off his lap and getting up.
Dean didn’t rise. Instead, he glanced at Joey from the other end of the sofa.
Joey ignored him. “No thanks, I’m gonna turn in early.”
“Suit yourself, granny. Come on, Dean-o. We’ll go easy on you,” Ben said. He leaned down, grabbed Dean’s arm and dragged him to his feet.
Joey swallowed a snort and stretched her legs out again, crossing her ankles.
“You sure you don’t want some company?” Dean said, looking back at her even as Ben pulled him toward the door. “I—”
“Whatever,” Joey said, returning her attention to the television. Her brothers were sharks. She hoped he lost all the money she’d paid him.
Not long after they left, she headed upstairs to retire for the night. Her room hadn’t changed a lick since she’d moved out a couple of years ago. Chris’s room was the same. Her mother had made a point to tell them that they always had a place to go if they needed it, but Joey knew what Adelaide really wanted was her whole family under one roof again. There was a time not long ago that Joey scoffed at the notion, but now she thought she understood it a little better. What she’d always seen as an effort to control her had more to do with knowing everyone was safe at the end of the day.
She was still pulling on her pajamas when there was a light knock on the door.
“Just a minute,” she called. It was unlikely to be Dean, but she didn’t want to take any chances. She tugged her shirt down and answered the door, finding Sara standing in the hall outside.
“Sorry, were you headed to bed?” Sara asked, ever the considerate soul.
“Not immediately, come on in,” Joey said, opening the door wider to admit her.
“I just wanted to check on you.”
“Check on me?” Joey gave her a curious look as she closed the door.
Sara took Joey’s hand and drew her to sit on the edge of the bed. “Yes. How’re you holding up? You’ve had a heck of a day.”
Joey sank down on the edge of the bed. “Barely,” she said with a sigh.
“Do you want to talk about it?” She drew Joey’s hand closer and held it between her small, soft hands.
“Yes, no, I dunno,” Joey closed her eyes and breathed in deeply, relaxing as Sara’s thumb lightly stroked the back of her hand. Sara didn’t interrupt, just offered quiet comfort and support as was her way. Every pack needed a Sara. It had only been a few years since Sara and Jon were married, but she’d quickly settled in and it was difficult to remember a time she hadn’t been there. Joey had always found her pretty easy to talk to, like the big sister she’d always wanted as a kid.
Opening her eyes once more, Joey looked over at Sara. “Did you know that Chris was in love with me?”
Sara’s pale brows lifted, but she shook her head. “I had no idea.” She looked away for a moment, features thoughtful, then asked, “Did you? Before he…”
“No,” Joey said. “I had no idea either. Then again, maybe I did. I dunno anymore.” She sighed, rubbing her forehead.
Sara curled an arm around her and drew her in for a hug, not pressing for more. Instead, she just offered comfort and let Joey speak, or not, at her own pace.
“It’s just… I thought I knew him, you know? I thought we were as close as two people could be. You know, platonically. But now it feels like our relationship was built on a web of lies and secrets. I’m not sure I really knew him at all.” Joey leaned into the hug and rested her head on Sara’s shoulder.
“Chris loved you,” Sara replied, with confidence. “Whether it was romantic love or brotherly love, he loved you. Don’t doubt that.”
“I don’t. I just hate that he kept me in the dark about how he felt, about Emma, about god knows what else. And he’s still doing it, Sara. Like he hasn’t learned anything.”
“It’s okay to be angry with him.”
“I know. I was. And I still should be, but instead,” she sighed. “I just want him back. And I hate myself for that.”
Sara was quiet for a moment, making Joey wish she hadn’t said anything at all as she sat there, anticipating judgement. But what Sara said next surprised her.
“Forgiveness isn’t a crime, Joey. It’s not like you’re a battered spouse that just keeps coming back for more. Whatever Chris may have done, he loved you. He was loyal to you, almost to a fault. Everyone knew that at least. The last thing he would’ve wanted to do was hurt you. Have you talked to him about it?”
“No. It’s not really something I want to talk about through Dean, you know? Especially after…” Joey trailed off with a grimace. “Well, let’s just say that sparks flew down in Mexico.”
“Ahh. Did you two…”
Joey pulled away. “No, I didn’t sleep with him. God, I’ve known him like ten minutes. What kind of a hussy do you think I am?”
Sara laughed, reaching out to tuck a lock of Joey’s dark auburn hair behind her ear. “A feisty, passionate one. You’ve always known what you want, and once you decide, you go for it. In life and in love.”
“Well, I haven’t made up my mind about Dean yet. Or maybe I have.” She looked at the closed door with a frown. “The last thing I need is another man in my life that thinks lying to me is okay.”
“Does he know about your wolf nature?”
“No, of course not,” Joey said, frowning.
“Then you’ve lied to him too, by omission if nothing else. You have a good justification for that lie. Maybe he does too. Maybe they both do.”
Joey fell silent, mulling her sister-in-law’s words over for a time. “Do you know the worst thing?” she said, eventually.
Sara shook her head.
“I’m so fucking absorbed in this drama that I haven’t even stopped to process losing one of my best friends today.”
Inclining her head, Sara rose and walked over to Joey’s dresser to pick up the lightly fragranced candle that sat there. “Then let’s do that now,” she said, plucking the lighter from the dresser as well, then walking to the window.
“What are you doing?” Joey asked, watching her.
“We’re going to light a candle for Cheryl. Come on.” She motioned for Joey to join her at the window and set the candle and lighter on the windowsill, then drew back the curtains, tying them off tightly as a precaution.
Joey rose reluctantly, but walked over to join her at the window. Once the curtains were situated and the blinds pulled up, Sara handed Joey the lighter.
“We light this candle for Cheryl… what’s Cheryl’s last name?” Sara asked.
“Summers,” Joey said, coaxing a flame from the lighter and holding it to the wick. The wick caught quickly, and soon the candle was burning brightly, its light giving its reflection in the window a halo effect.
“We light this candle for Cheryl Summers,” Sara said again. The words had a formal ring to them. “May it be as a torch, lighting the way for her spirit to find eternal rest.”
Tears pricked unexpectedly in Joey’s eyes. She snaked an arm around Sara’s waist and leaned against her. Sara wrapped an arm around her in return, and for a while they stood there together in silent communion, watching the candle burn.
Joey crawled into bed soon after Sara left, but sleep didn’t come easily. Every time she closed her eyes, she was trapped in the back seat of the wrecked BMW again. She managed to drift off eventually, but woke in the middle of the night from a nightmare of being trapped in a glass box filling with water while her mother looked on, clearly disappointed in her.
The candle still burned in the window; its light cast flickering shadows around the room. Shivering, Joey squeezed her eyes shut and rolled away, curling up on her side with he
r back to the light. In that moment, she longed to feel Chris’s arms around her. They were warm and strong, and she’d always felt safe in them, whether that was after a nightmare or performing a dangerous lift on the dance floor.
Dean’s arms were nice too. She could go looking for him, but he’d probably take it the wrong way. Or the right one. Her thoughts drifted to their moonlit walk on the beach, and she bit her lip as she thought about the kiss they’d shared. So passionate, so electrifying. Just thinking about it made her tingle in all the right ways. And yet, he’d been distant afterward. Still interested, clearly, but more tentative about it than she’d expected from a man who’d kissed her like that. As if he were a completely different person under the Mexican moon.
From both of us.
Your brother’s an asshole.
If I lose more than 30 seconds…
Joey groaned and sat bolt upright. “Fuuuuck.”
26
Despite a troubled night’s sleep, Joey rose early the next morning and donned her running attire. There was, however, one important thing she needed before her run: coffee. Ponytail swaying, she jogged downstairs and headed for the kitchen. Stepping inside, she was immediately grateful she’d had the presence of forethought to throw a tank top on over her sports bra. Dean was there, fiddling with the levers and knobs on the barista station with mug in hand. There wasn’t a trace left of yesterday’s wound on her stomach, and she certainly didn’t want to advertise that to him.
“Didn’t expect to see anyone else up at this hour,” she said, leaning against the door frame.
She must have startled him, because he jumped and sprayed his hand with a blast of hot air from the steamer. The mug fell to the floor with a noisy crash, shattering into fragments large and small. Fortunately, it was empty.
“Fuck,” he exclaimed, shaking his hand vigorously. “Do you always sneak up on people like that? Or just first thing in the morning?”
Joey winced in sympathy. “Sorry. You should run that under some cold water. I’ll clean up.”
While Dean headed for the sink, Joey stepped carefully across the debris field to crouch and pick up the larger pieces by hand. Truth be told, she was grateful for the distraction. In the wake of a fitful night’s sleep and her late night revelation, she wasn’t quite prepared to face Dean before her first cup of coffee.
