When my dad, Landon Voss, heard his high school sweetheart had passed away, he lost it. Completely heartbroken, he gave away our entire million-dollar fortune and became a monk, leaving my mom to raise me and my little brother on the streets. We almost starved.
Mom, though, she's a fighter. She scavenged trash, slung barbecue from a cart, and somehow not only kept us alive but built a business. She even bought us a house. The day we moved into our new place, after ten years of radio silence, Dad showed up again.
He had cancer. And he wanted us to foot the bill for his treatment.
I was at work when my Aunt Cheryl called out of the blue.
"Miranda, great news! Your dad's back! Aren't you thrilled?" Her voice was all bubbly, like she'd just won the lottery.
I froze, her laughter echoing in my ears. That wolf-ten years ago, he ditched his mate and pups for his old flame, shaved his head, and joined a monastery. Why the hell was he back now?
My throat tightened. "Where is he?" I asked.
"Almost at your house! It's been so long since you've seen your dad-you must miss him like crazy!"
"Don't worry, honey, he's back for good this time. Your family's finally gonna be whole again. Get home quick, Miranda!"
I hung up, my heart racing. Did Mom know? She's the kindest, softest person I know. It took her years to get over Dad leaving, and now that life was finally on track, I couldn't let him break her heart again.
I dialed Mom right away. She was at the market, haggling, her voice bright with a smile.
"Miranda, I'm in the middle of getting supplies. What's up, sweetie?"
Hearing her so cheerful calmed me a bit. She didn't know he was back. There was still time.
I had to get that wolf out of our lives before Mom got home.
"Hey, Mom," I said, keeping my voice steady. "I'm craving crawfish tonight. Can you grab a couple pounds after you're done? The big ones."
"Crawfish, huh? They're tough to find this time of year, but I'll see what I can do."
"No rush, take your time."
I hung up, requested a half-day off work, and hopped in an Uber to head home.
At the gate of our house, a wolf and a she-wolf stood waiting. No idea how they got past the security gate. The wolf-middle-aged, dressed in plain clothes with a knit beanie-stared at the house, looking annoyed.
"Didn't we call already? Where are they? This is ridiculous!" he griped.
He'd aged. His once-decent looks had faded into a sallow, saggy mess, but he still carried that same holier-than-thou attitude, like the world owed him a red carpet.
Seeing him like that, I almost laughed. Back in the day, he'd lorded his fancy literature degree over Mom, acting like she was beneath him because she was "just" a housemate. He'd carry around a picture of his high school sweetheart, writing poems and sketching her like some tortured artist. When he heard she died, he chain-smoked on the balcony all night, clutching her photo, crying, "Rose, I'll join you!"