by MJ Compton
“No,” Libby said.
“That would work. Maybe Abigail’s sister would like to stay with us,” Colette suggested.
Luke turned to Abby. “Is that okay with you? If your stepfather tries to cause trouble, I can protect you better if I’m not distracted.”
Protect her? She was the protector of her sister. She didn’t need Luke or his family’s help.
White spots cavorted before her eyes. She reached out to grip something, anything, to keep from falling. Luke caught her by the waist. Pain shot up her side, but she managed to hide her wince. Her bruises were worse than they’d been the night before. “Hey. What’s wrong?” Concern shaded Luke’s voice.
She swallowed. Hard. “Light headed. It happens.”
“Get her a chair, Luke,” his mother said.
Luke led Abby to the sofa. She sagged against the back of the sofa. Luke might not be loving or caring like her father had been with her mother, but he wasn’t abusive. And he was trying. She was safe. Libby was safe. Her baby was safe.
She tried to stop the trembling in her arms. The shaking of her legs. But she’d been so tense for so long that letting go of the tension turned all of her muscles to mush.
“Are you okay?” Colette asked.
Abby nodded. “It’s been a rough couple of days.” The bruises on her face were evidence of that. She imagined there were traces of the tears she’d shed for her mother drying on her face, too. “I’m a survivor.”
“Of course you are. But you have to think about my grandbaby, too,” Colette reminded her.
These people were excited by her pregnancy. Happy. Pregnant before married wasn’t an embarrassment to them.
Abby’s hand slipped to her abdomen. She wasn’t far enough along yet to have a baby bump or feel movement or anything of that sort, but her body was acting on instinct. Protecting the new life growing inside her. Despite Gary’s best efforts to beat the baby out of her.
“I brought supper so you wouldn’t have to cook your first night in a new house,” Colette continued. “Marcus, did you bring in the slow cooker? It’s nothing fancy. Stew. Luke loves stew.”
Abby’s stomach rumbled.
“Me and Abby love stew,” Libby said. She’d been exploring Luke’s house, touching things as was her wont. Libby didn’t handle new situations well. Especially on her own. Abby appreciated Marcus and Colette’s concern about Libby, but she needed to keep Libby with her.
“I’m Libby. Are you Luke’s mother? How does that make us related?”
Abby wanted to sink through the floor. Libby didn’t have filters. Oxygen deprived at birth, she hadn’t developed as quickly as she should have. Her ADHD only compounded the problem. Meds. Abby had to see about getting Libby back on her Ritalin.
“If you’d like,” Colette replied without even blinking. “Or maybe we can be really good friends.”
Abby shot her a look of gratitude. Not everyone understood or was comfortable with Libby.
“I have a stepfather, but I don’t like him. My real mama died today. She didn’t like Gary hitting us, but she couldn’t stop him.”
“I am going to kill that son of scat-eater,” Luke muttered.
Luke was always threatening to kill Gary. Too bad he never followed through on any of his promises to her. But she didn’t voice that thought. She didn’t want to cause any more awkwardness. “Gary’s too mean to die,” Libby said, as she opened the cupboard under the kitchen sink. “That’s what Uncle Dougie always says.”
“I can be meaner,” Luke said. “I can be your stepdad’s worst nightmare.”
Abby bit her lip to keep from making a snarky comment.
“Libby, would you like to stay at my house tonight?” Colette asked. “Abigail and Luke probably might want to spend some time alone.”
Libby slammed the cupboard door. “Sure.”
Abby shook her head. “Libby doesn’t do well in strange places.”
“Well, until she comes and sleeps there, it will always be a strange place,” Colette replied. Her manner was calm. Serene. Nothing disturbed her composure. “You and Luke are already starting off in a difficult situation. Why don’t you let us make things easier for you?” Abby didn’t know what to say. Why didn’t these people resent her for being pregnant and disrupting their son’s life?
“I’m sorry to hear about your mother. What arrangements have you made? Is there anything we can do?” Marcus asked.
“That’s kind of you, but—”
“You’re part of our family now,” Colette said. “Let us help.”
“Mama’s been sick for quite a while, and made her arrangements with Sendall’s Funeral Home. I just need to set a time. Everything else was prearranged. But thank you.”
Colette shook her head. “It sounds as if you’ve been carrying a burden for a while. It can’t be good for you or the baby.”
Ah. The Omegas didn’t really care about her or Libby. And why should they? They didn’t know the Grant sisters. Her baby, however, was half theirs. “So it’s settled. Libby will stay with us for a little while.”
“Mom, maybe Abigail wants her sister here.”
Abby stared at Luke. She couldn’t remember the last time anyone had agreed with her about anything. She felt almost as if she’d fallen down a rabbit hole and changed her name to Alice.
Colette sounded hurt. “Oh.”
“It’s not that I don’t appreciate your offer. It’s been a rough couple of days.”
“If I can’t go to Uncle Dougie’s, I want to stay with Colette and Marcus.” Libby was edging toward whiny mode.
The situation was about to turn uglier than it already was. She tried to defuse Libby. “What if you get scared in the night?”
“I want to go with Colette and Marcus.” Libby stomped her foot for emphasis.
“Please don’t do this now,” Abby begged in a low voice.
“You got married. You were going to leave me alone with Gary.” Libby’s eyes were nearly popping out of their sockets. Spittle gathered in the corners of her mouth. “I don’t want to live with you.”
Abby stood and tried to put her arm around Libby, but Libby flung off the embrace.
“Leave me alone. I’m going with Marcus and Colette.” Libby raced up the stairs to the loft. “I’m getting my stuff now.”
“She’s upset about your mother passing,” Colette said. “She’ll be okay.”
That’s what you think. She needs her medication.
“Marcus, the slow cooker is in the backseat of the car. Can you fetch it?” Colette turned to Abby. “I don’t know what Luke has for pots and pans. We bought him some things when he first moved in here, but you know how men can be.”
Marcus went to the car and Abby returned to the sofa and closed her eyes. She wanted to be alone. This day had been one of the worst in her life. Grief plucked every nerve and muscle in her body. Too much. She needed to mourn, but no one was giving her a chance.
Outside, something howled.
“You won’t be living like this much longer,” Colette told Luke, as she bustled around his small kitchen. Abby heard the chink of dishes being moved around. “Your mate deserves better.”
“My wife.” Luke’s tone was wooden.
“Don’t split hairs.”
“You know,” Luke snarled at his mother, “I get real tired of everyone treating me like—”
“You deserve to be treated. I raised you better than this. Your father told me some of what transpired during your audience with Tokarz last night, and all I have to say is we’re lucky someone as wise as Tokarz de Lobo Garnier is leading this pack. Someone else might not have been as lenient with you.”
Abby must have been even more exhausted than she thought. Colette was saying things that made no sens
e. The same sort of things Macy had said the night before about alphas and such. What Abby thought of as code talk.
The distant howling resumed.
“I know what I did was wrong. I’m doing what I can to make it right. But being wrong doesn’t mean I should be punished for the rest of my life.”
Colette must have made some kind of motion, because Luke said, “She’s asleep. I doubt she got any more sleep last night than I did.”
“Since when do you sleep at night?”
“You know what I mean,” Luke snapped again.
“You better keep doing right by that girl.”
“I married her, didn’t I? I brought her kid sister back to Loup Garou to keep her safe. Damn. I need to buy Abigail a guitar.”
“A guitar?”
“Her stepfather smashed hers today.”
A fresh wave a pain washed over Abby. Luke didn’t understand the only value in the guitar was that it had been her father’s. He’d taught her to play when she was barely big enough to embrace the body and her fingers strained to span the neck.
“That poor girl,” Colette said.
The door opened with a blast of cold air. “Where are Abigail and her sister?” Marcus asked.
Abby struggled to open her eyes and sit up. “Here.” Her tongue felt too big for her mouth. “Libby is still upstairs.”
“What’s wrong?” Luke asked.
“Their stepfather showed up at Tokarz’s house. Claims you kidnapped Libby.”
“No!” Abby struggled to her feet. “He can’t have her.”
Luke caught her arm as she tried to pass him. “Let Tokarz take care of him.”
“Promise me, promise me Libby stays with us.” Abby knew she was screaming because of the pain in her throat, but the roar in her ears muffled the sound.
“Libby doesn’t go anywhere with Gary Porter. He will have to kill me first,” Luke vowed.
Libby’s face appeared at the overhead rail. She was pale. “Gary is here?”
“He’s at Tokarz’s house,” Luke said. “Gary doesn’t know where we live. You’re safe here. I won’t let him take you.”
“No one will let him take you.” Marcus sounded fierce. “We protect our own, and you’re one of us now. Let’s take your stuff out to the car.”
Abby’s skepticism must have shown on her face, because Colette squeezed her arm as Marcus hefted the garbage bag of Libby’s clothes. “Macy told you last night. You’ve never been safer in your life. I’ll let my errant son explain everything to you. Now you rest. The first few months of pregnancy are exhausting. How far along are you?”
“Since the night of the Moonsinger family picnic.” Abby hadn’t bothered to count. Hadn’t wanted to admit the possibility of pregnancy. Another fantasy that hadn’t come true.
“I meant to ask you last night, but have you seen a doctor?” Something in Colette’s tone changed. She sounded almost anxious.
Abby shook her head. Seeing a doctor would have only confirmed one reality she wanted to vanish.
“Good.” No mistaking the relief in Colette’s tone. “Granny is an excellent midwife. She handles all the births here. She’s over the moon to be tending you, what with this being Luke’s baby and all.”
Everyone accepted her pregnancy and Luke’s paternity. Abby had expected resistance, if not denial. But even during the fiasco last night when Gary had burst into that party, no one had condemned her. Luke had been censured. Very different from the other people she knew. When a girl got pregnant before marriage, she was the person damned for loose morals. No one ever thought to blame the guy who couldn’t keep his pants zipped. She’d expected more of the same, not immediate acceptance. And everyone acted so excited about the baby. She hadn’t even thought of it in terms of another person, but rather, as another problem.
Colette was getting ready to join Marcus and Libby in the car when someone knocked on Luke’s door. Toke Lobo himself—the Toke Lobo—walked in. He wasn’t wearing a Stetson. In every photo Abby had ever seen of him, every time she’d seen him perform at the Moonsinger events, he’d worn an oversized white cowboy hat. He was a country singer, and that’s what they did. A part of their uniform. She almost didn’t recognize him.
Libby and Marcus followed him inside.
“Evening,” he drawled. “Colette. Abigail.” His yellow gaze rested on Libby. “You must be Elizabeth.”
Libby nodded. Her eyes were round and her mouth gaped. Libby was a huge Toke Lobo fan and here he was, asking for her by name. Abby hoped she wouldn’t freak out.
“Your stepdaddy is worried about you.”
“No.” The word escaped Abby before she even thought. And it sounded as if it had come from a rabid dog.
Toke Lobo shot her a sharp glance. “He’s only your stepdaddy, right? He never legally adopted either one of you?”
Abby shook her head, not trusting herself to speak again.
“Your mama passed this morning?”
Abby nodded, as Libby’s lower lip quivered.
“And you’re twenty-one?”
“Yes.” Somehow, using her voice to answer that question mattered.
“And you’re willing to take responsibility for your sister?”
Why should Toke Lobo care what was going on with her and Libby? He was only a country music singer—getting real popular, yes, but he wasn’t a god or anything. He was Luke’s boss and one of the owners of Moonsinger Beer.
“I love my sister, and I will do anything I can to protect her.” She didn’t elaborate. The will naming her Libby’s guardian was her secret weapon.
Toke stared at her for a long moment, as if trying to peer past her defenses; as if judging her worthiness. “Good,” he finally said. “I told Gary Porter if he came near either one of you again his job at the brewery might be at stake.”
An unfamiliar emotion washed over her. If Luke hadn’t caught her waist, she might have fallen. She gasped at the contact. He always had that effect on her.
“Is it the baby?” Colette asked.
“What?” Luke asked. “Maybe someone should get Granny.” He sounded worried.
“It’s only stress,” Abby said. Her words weren’t a total lie. “You would fire Gary?”
“Of course.” Toke acted surprised by the question. He turned to Luke. “I think you have some explaining to do.”
Odd. Colette had said the same thing.
“I haven’t exactly had a lot of time.” Luke sounded sullen.
“That’s true,” Marcus said. “Colette and I came over almost as soon as he and Abigail got here. We offered to take Libby for the night, so the newlyweds could have some alone time.”
“That’s a real good idea,” Toke said. “And not only for the obvious reason. Gary made some threats before I told him how it was going to be, but maybe separating the sisters would keep them safer. He could find out where Luke lives, but he wouldn’t have a clue where Libby would be staying if she were elsewhere. I was going to offer to take her home with me, but maybe staying with you and Colette is a better idea. Keeping it all in the family. I thought with Delilah being—”
“It’s okay,” Luke interrupted. “If that’s a concern, Libby can stay with Granny. There’s not a human being in Loup Garou with more experience. But Dad is—”
“True,” Tokarz said. “All right.”
Why was Toke Lobo even getting in their business? Abby would have argued, but the expression on Luke’s face stopped her. And it wasn’t because he wanted a repeat of the Moonsinger picnic, either.
“She’ll be safer,” Luke said in a low voice. His hand hovered over Abby’s cheek. Her bruised and sore cheek. “No hidden motives, Abigail. It’s all about keeping you both safe. And she wants to stay with my folks.”
“I
wanna go home with Toke Lobo,” Libby said.
Toke laughed. “A fan, huh? Maybe some other time. Right now, you need to get to know your new family.”
Libby’s lower lip quivered.
“You’ve already loaded your stuff in Colette and Marcus’s car,” Abby pointed out. “And it’s what Toke Lobo wants you to do.”
Libby glared at Toke.
“I know this might be scary for you, but you have to be a big girl about staying overnight with Luke’s parents.”
“But I wanna stay with Toke Lobo.” Libby’s voice was louder.
“Please don’t give me a hard time about this,” Abby begged. “Do you want Gary to find you? He was at Toke Lobo’s house. If you stay there, Gary could find you. Gary doesn’t know about Marcus and Colette. It will be like . . . playing hide-and-seek. And you’ll be hidden so well, Gary loses the game.”
“Gary’s already a loser, but okay.”
“Please be good for Marcus and Colette. We want them to like us so they’ll let us stay and hide from Gary. If you wake up in the night, and you don’t know where you are, no screaming, okay? Mama is in heaven with Daddy now, and they’re watching out for us. So don’t worry. Your worrying never makes things better, right?”
“Right.” But Libby didn’t sound convinced.
Abby carefully hugged Libby. “We’ll be okay. I promise.”
“Stop coddling the girl,” Toke said. “She’s staying with Luke’s parents. No more discussion.”
Fifteen minutes later, Abby was alone with Luke for the first time since they’d gotten married. For the first time since the night of the Moonsinger picnic. Losing her virginity had triggered a range of disparate events. Everything since that night had gone downhill. Her mother’s health. Gary’s temper. Her pregnancy. Now she was married to a man she didn’t know, living in a town where she knew no one, and she was responsible for an eleven-year-old-sister who was needier than the average girl that age. No wonder Abby was weary. No wonder all she wanted to do was cry. But her tears would still have to wait.
