Chapter 03 Threads

Hanna

Dinner is as awkward as one can imagine. Dad cooked my favorite Italian dish tonight—spaghetti made with his special homemade tomato sauce and fresh mozzarella and savory buttery garlic bread sticks. He even brought out mother’s pretty china, the ones with long stalks and tiny pink flowers with gold accents crimping the edges.

Dean, unbothered by the stern aura my dad’s oozing out, continues to wolf down his food like he’d been starving all day. Any other day, this sight would’ve pleased dad. But tonight, he says nothing.

I take a big bite as well and I almost begin crying again from how good it tastes. Nothing can come close to a nice home-cooked meal. They say love is the special ingredient and dad’s cooking proves just that. When I tell him the news, I’m sure he’d love to cook this more often.

Speaking of news, I peer up at dad to see him staring at me. I promised I’d explain after dinner since Dean and I barely had time to eat on the road, wanting to arrive before it got dark.

He clears his throat. “You could’ve told me straight away about your engagement,” he says, like he’s sulking.

I almost choke on my food. The pasta went down so painfully down my throat.

“We wanted it to be a surprise,” Dean answers for me as I reach for the wine. I instantly glare at him for continuing the charade.

If I could tell him what’s on my mind, it’d be for him to back off and let me handle it.

“I see,” dad replies. “Did you know she has a mate?”

My throat constricts. I swallow hard, then blurt out, “Dad!”

Both heads turn to look at me, then back at each other.

“She never told me, but what does it matter? If you ask for it, I’ll marry her tonight.”

“Dean!”

They stare at each other for some time, neither of them backing off.

“Dad, I told you I can explain after dinner!”

“Mm. Not bad, young man. Not bad at all.” He rises from his seat, taking his empty plate. He has a thoughtful look on his face, blue eyes tired. I’ve yet to ask him how he’s doing, and we’re already talking about things like these.

“My daughter is old enough to make her own decisions. As her dad, even I won’t get in her way. If you do … consider yourself and your pack enemies of Evergreen.”

What’s going on here? Does dad seriously believe him?

“Wait, wait, wait. Hang on. Dad, it’s not like that at all!” I exclaim, getting up.

Dean stands too, and for a moment I think he’ll finally drop the ball. But he faces my dad, and with a serious undertone in his voice says, “Point taken.”

Dad leaves his plate and glass on the sink. “I’ll leave you two to talk it out.”

I push my chair back to go after him and explain everything thoroughly, but Dean grabs my arm. “What are you doing?”

“Stopping you from undoing your escape route.”

He’s frowning, heavy lines on his forehead and a determination in his eyes that have me worried. “He’s the reason, isn’t he? Why you left your pack? Why Leanna doesn’t have a dad? He doesn’t even know she exists, does he? That’s why you stopped me earlier.”

I bite the inside of my cheek. Shame, guilt, and anger boils into one raging storm. My sight turns to the floor. “Who are you to judge me? What happened between me and Logan is none of your business. I appreciate the help to get me out of that situation, but you took it too far with dad.”

I meet his eyes. “You never deceive family, Dean. Dad and Lea are all I have left. You crossed the line tonight. I have to go make things right.”

I make a move to follow dad, but he stops me yet again.

“What about me?” His free hand nears my face, hesitates, then tucks my hair behind an ear. “Am I not family to you, too?” he asks, sounding hurt.

It’s like cold water suddenly poured down on me.

Why did I say that in front of him?

How could I … to an orphan?

We don’t talk about our past lives because it’s painful. All he knew is that I ran from my mate because he chose someone else over me and all I knew about his story is that wolves killed his parents when he was just a little boy.

Though I lost my mother at a young age, I had my dad and the pack growing up. As for him, he had to survive alone as a rogue until the Blackwood Pack took him in and raised him. Then he left for the city because the pack wolf lifestyle is too brutal for him. His words, not mine.

“It’s not like,” I try to explain.

“Go on.”

I take his hand off of my arm and hold both of them between us. “Dean, you’re my best friend. You’ve been with me at my lowest and I can never thank you enough for all you’ve done for me. You know I love you.”

Standing on my toes, I reach up to cup his cheek and have him look at me. “You’re my family, too, Dean. I’m sorry I said that earlier.”

Dean holds my hand and keeps it there as he leans into my touch and closes his eyes. My heart skips a beat at how peacefully gorgeous he looks. When he opens his eyes again, those icy blue orbs reflect me. “Hanna, won’t you be my family … officially?”

My brows raise from surprise.

He can’t mean …

“Hold on. Wait for me right here. Don’t move,” he says, dropping my hand and moving out of the dining room, “Just stay right there.”

I release a breath when he’s out of sight and immediately take a seat.

What was that?

Dean sounded so … real, far different from his usual antics.

He can’t possibly have feelings for me, does he?

We’re just … best friends. The best-est of friends. Sure, I find him so unbelievably attractive and he ticks off my every box, but I can’t just accept his feelings, knowing how much it’ll hurt his mate when they finally meet. I won’t be that girl who takes away someone’s fated one. There’s a possibility they might never know each other, but as long as that possibility exists, I can’t take it away from the two of them.

It was brief, but I know what it’s like to have a mate and share intimacy with him. The bond between mates is unlike any other. I will not rob him of what he could have.

I shake my head and take deep, deep breaths to calm my heart. I’m already assuming that Dean has those feelings for me!

My cheeks heat.

Just thinking about it is embarrassing.

The dishes catch my eye.

I should put them away.

I pick up Dean’s plate when something hits the windows. The kitchen has French doors that lead to the patio. We keep them open in the summer to let the cooling breeze inside the house.

Curious, I push the doors open and head outside. Immediately, goosebumps run all over my body and the most pleasing scent hits my nose.

His deep voice comes from my right. “I remember a cute little mouse telling me she loved me, too. Where’s that love gone to, little mouse?”

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