The moment they both got out of their respective cars, Mathias caught Will's eye. It was only for a second, but in that instant, Mathias had a clear memory of Will as he had been more than fifty years back, terrified and unable to protect his then-unborn child. The moment faded, and Will straightened his shoulders.
“Come on. They'll be waiting.”
“They” turned out to include Jessie's mate, who decided to intercept Mathias at the door. Once again, Mathias found himself being eyed with clear distrust, but he couldn't blame the man for it. He was basically entering the lair of a wolf, one where his ill mate lay—and that heightened the natural protectiveness of Alpha wolves even more.
Like he'd done earlier, he extended his hand to the other werewolf. “I'm Mathias Girard. I'm here to help.”
“So I'm told.” The man looked past Mathias's shoulder, presumably at Will. “Andreas Brandt.”
He took Mathias's hand and squeezed so hard it hurt—despite Mathias's Sidhe and werewolf abilities. The warning was clear, but Mathias didn't flinch. He simply met Andreas's gaze calmly, and it must have worked because Jessie's mate let go. “Come on in. He's waiting.”
Jessie was lying in bed, leaning against the pillows and speaking with another human. Or they must have been speaking earlier. When Mathias entered the room, they were literally just waiting, and Jessie seemed to be holding his breath—which wasn't a very good thing for him given his condition.
Seeing the adult Jessie almost propelled Mathias back into the past. In a way, it was not something he could prevent, since in Jessie's eyes, Mathias saw Will, as he had been when the two of them had first met. The feeling faded when Jessie shot him a hesitant, but honest smile.
The words were on Mathias's lips before he could stop them. “Hey, there, pup. Looks like you've gotten yourself in a bit of a mess.”
For a few instants, Jessie gaped at him, and Mathias almost thought he shouldn't have used such familiarity with the younger man. As it turned out, he shouldn't have worried, because Jessie's smile widened and his eyes glinted with gratitude, recognition and maybe unshed tears. “Seems so, yeah. Can't say it's not worth it.”
It didn't surprise Mathias at all that Jessie felt that way. Still, he couldn't help but note the slight tremor in Jessie's voice, the awareness of how easily things could go wrong.
Mathias made his way to Jessie's side, with Jessie's human friend giving him room to maneuver. “So... Twins.” He pointed discreetly toward Jessie's swollen belly. “May I?”
Jessie nodded and reached for Mathias's hands. He placed them on his stomach and held them there. “Please let it go,” he murmured in a barely audible whisper. “Let him go. They're happy together.”
“I know, pup.” Mathias smiled, a little pained. “I realize that now. Even old wolves can learn new tricks from time to time.” He cleared his throat and arched his brow at Jessie. “Now stop worrying about everyone else and relax. I need to see what I have to work with here.”
Jessie nodded and lay back on the bed. His mate came to sit with them and so did Will. If Will had heard what his son had said, he didn't show it, and in the end, for the moment, it didn't matter. Mathias focused on Jessie, on the three lives relying on him, and allowed his Sidhe ancestry to take over.
Willow Cove was the epitome of a small American town—quaint, stagnant, silent... peaceful. It had changed little since the time Ward visited it when he'd been young. As he drove through its streets, he felt almost guilty that he found it so alien.
He passed a single car on his way to his destination, and he had a brief moment when he wondered who the other driver was and where they were going. The thought dissipated like smoke in the wind, the ideas bubbling in the back of his mind chased away by heartbreak and loss.
He was better than this, he tried to tell himself. He didn't need to cower and hide. He hadn't done anything wrong.
And yet, here he was, having abandoned everything he'd known for years to take a so-called vacation. If he allowed himself, he might even feel embarrassed about it.
But there was no one here to pity him or whisper behind his back. There was no one to give him knowing or perhaps accusing looks. When he finally reached the house, he parked and got out, knowing that this was truly what he needed, a haven away from everything that reminded him of his painful past.
The old-fashioned farmhouse was just as he remembered it, worn by time, but full of distant memories of better years. Once, Ward had thought he'd left it behind. Peter had always said it was ridiculous to cling to something so antiquated. In hindsight, perhaps that should have given him a clue about how things would turn out between them.
He wished he could say he'd known, but he hadn't, so he wasn't sure why he'd bought the house back after his mother and her sister had sold it. No, that wasn't true. He knew why. It had started with all the stories he'd heard about this place.
It was in no small measure because of his great-uncle, he supposed. Ward hadn't even known his grandfather's youngest sibling—hell, he was probably long dead by now—but he felt like he did. For most of his childhood years, the man had remained a mystery, since whenever Ward asked, his grandfather would get a dark, lost look on his face.
Ward had eventually stopped asking. And then, at seventeen, his mother had discovered him making out with the neighbor's son... To say that she hadn't been pleased was an understatement. Surprisingly, it had been his grandfather who'd come to his defense.
“I've had many years to think about this,” he'd said then, “and I realize how wrong I was. I lost two brothers to the war, but the other... I lost him to my own hatred and misconceptions. I won't allow anyone to treat Ward the way I treated Will.”
That was how Ward had found out the whole story about his great-uncle. His grandfather had laughed bitterly when he'd recounted how they'd all believed Will to have no interest in dating only because of his more scholarly inclinations. “He wanted to become a doctor, Will did,” the older man had mused. “He was so determined too. I never understood. My life was here, in Willow Cove, in the farm and in the land.”
“Do you think he made it eventually?”
Even after all these years, Ward still remembered the crushed expression on his grandfather's face. “No, Ward. I don't think he ever did.”
Later, Ward had learned that his grandfather had searched for his brother, even going so far as to hire private detectives. The man had disappeared into thin air, and by the time Ward had been born, his grandfather had been forced to admit to himself that he'd most likely sent his sibling to his death.
It was a bitter ending to a sad tale, but it was also part of Ward, and familiar in a way his apartment in New York no longer felt. As he stood there in the silence, staring at the structure, Ward wondered how his great-uncle had seen it. Had it also been a haven, or had it been a cage?
With a bemused scoff, Ward pushed back the thoughts crowding his mind. Over-analyzing himself was the worst thing he could possibly do right now. He needed action, something that would get his mind off his problems.
Predictably, the house was quite a mess on the inside. In the dim light coming from the windows, the sheet-covered furniture looked almost ominous. Ward's footsteps left trails on the dust covered floor. At least the electricity still worked, although when he turned on the light, the bulb flickered a little and nearly died. He'd have to get someone to look at it if there was a problem. He didn't want to accidentally burn the house—and himself with it—down because of a short-circuit.
Either way, for the moment, Ward had a lot of work to do. He'd actually been tempted to send someone ahead to at least start on it, but now he was glad he hadn't. God only knew he needed the distraction.
Nodding to himself, Ward pushed back the memories that had chased him to Willow Cove and went in search of some cleaning supplies. For the rest of the night, he almost didn't think of Peter at all.