What the hell?
I thought better of Alastair. Besides, doesn’t he have enough money as it is?
“What do you mean, so?”
“I mean, what the hell? You’re going to go back on your morals because your dad is threatening you with some cash?”
“It’s not just some cash, Cass. It’s a lot of money. I’m getting married soon, and Melanie and I could really use that.”
I cock my head, looking at him.
“What aren’t you telling me?”
“What? Nothing.”
“No, no, no, there’s something.”
Because the story doesn’t add up. Why would my uncle threaten to cut Alastair out of the will? Why would my uncle hate the fact that Alastair wants more animals to come to town? Why would anyone even consider trying to prohibit other shifters from being comfortable here?
“He’s dying,” I say.
The realization hits me like a ton of bricks. Once again, I’m realizing something I probably should have known or recognized long ago. It all makes sense now, but I suppose I was too busy with work to notice. Besides, my uncle and I are not close, nor have we ever been.
“That’s why you’re getting married so fast. You want him to see the wedding.”
“Don’t tell anyone,” Alastair says, using, once again, a phrase I’m quickly growing to hate.
“Like who? Do you really think I’m going to go running my mouth all over town that my uncle is sick?” I shake my head. “Alastair, I get that you want to give a dying man his greatest wish, no matter how selfish that wish might be, but this is wrong.”
“You don’t understand. You don’t even like your parents.”
“Low blow,” I say, pointing out the obvious. “But you’re right. I don’t. My parents are shitty people, just like your dad, but you know what the difference between us is, Alastair?”
He looks at me.
“I walked away. I had the guts to tell my parents to fuck off. I had enough of their bullshit, and I walked. You could do the same thing, cousin. You wouldn’t lose a damn thing, but you’d gain the whole fucking world. All you have to do is be brave.”
I shake my head and walk toward the door. I reach it and pause for just a second because I think that perhaps, just maybe, Alastair is going to say something to me. Maybe he’s going to realize that I’m completely right and that his dad really is a horrible person. Maybe he’s going to come to the understanding that this time, he can take a stand.
He can do this.
Alastair isn’t a bad person.
He’s not meanspirited.
He’s not evil.
He doesn’t have the dark, jaded soul that so many people have.
But he has something else holding him back: fear.
I wait in the doorway, but my cousin says nothing, and I walk through the door without a backwards glance.
Chapter 8
Matthew
/> “Whiskey. Neat.”