Roesha
My nerves buzz so hard it feels like my veins are humming. Somewhere in the Covington Pack, my true mate might be waiting. I’ve imagined meeting him my entire life, but now that our plane is descending, I can’t stop thinking about the one possibility I never let myself picture. What if he already belongs to someone else? Eric shifts beside me. “Sis, you okay?” “I’m nervous and excited. It’s a terrible combination.” “Only when you’re operating.” I laugh, which is exactly what he wanted. Grandfather Edward arranged this trip because the Covington Beta’s wife needs a medical consultation. That’s what I’m here for. I can handle a set of scans and a worried family. Whatever my wolf thinks she senses beneath the drone of the engines will have to wait. My phone catches the airport signal just as Eric reaches for his seat belt. There’s a message from Dr. Isaiah Bennett, the vascular surgeon who takes the table across from mine on Thursdays in Chicago. I covered your rounds. You owe me dinner. He has asked before, once on a night when we both smelled like disinfectant and neither of us could remember the last time we’d seen the sun. I had laughed because I was afraid that if I took him seriously, he might see how badly I wanted to say yes. You still pick restaurants with paper napkins? I type. When I want the company to be the best thing about dinner. I read it twice before putting the phone away. “You going to answer him?” Eric asks. “You going to mind your business?” “Only if my business turns out to be more interesting.” I leave the message unanswered. Out the window, the runway rises to meet us. It’s easier to wonder whether fate will choose somebody for me than to admit there’s already a man I could choose for myself. 1Grandfather is waiting on the tarmac when we land, along with the Alpha and enough cousins to escort a visiting head of state. I make straight for Grandpa. The Alpha laughs when I breeze past him, and Grandpa wraps me in a hug before I can pretend I’m too grown to need one. “Welcome to Covington,” Alpha Tomas Drake says when I finally turn around. “It’s an honor to have you.” “Thank you, Alpha Drake. It’s my pleasure to visit your pack.” By the time we reach the barbecue, the sun has dropped behind the trees. Somebody’s playing guitar, children are racing across the grass, and the smell of meat charring over the grill makes me realize how little I ate on the plane. I get as far as the cornbread before a woman at the end of the table asks if I’m Edward’s granddaughter. When I say yes, she tells me he took a fishhook out of her thumb at this same barbecue twenty years ago. “He sent me home with a plate,” she says. “I think that was the part he charged me for.” I’m laughing when a little boy comes up holding a paper towel against his knee. His father offers to carry him to the wash station, but the boy is worried somebody will take his chair. I promise to guard it. Eric sits down in it as soon as they turn away. “You’re a terrible person,” I tell him. “I’m keeping it warm.” By the time the boy gets back, Eric has balanced a second piece of cornbread on the edge of the plate. I hand the chair over and look for Grandpa. I want to ask about a note in Clara’s referral. She’s been back to the clinic three times, and every time the bleeding starts again. Somebody has written follow-up as needed in the same box three times. Grandpa is talking to Alpha Drake near the grill. I catch the end of a sentence about who can authorize a transfer. When he sees me, he takes my elbow and leads me away from the smoke. “Clara needs to go to a hospital that can admit her under her own name,” I say. “Why are we discussing who can authorize it?” “Because some people here hear ‘the Beta’s wife’ before they hear ‘the patient.’” “Are you one of those people?” He looks at me sharply. Then he takes his hand off my elbow. “Fair question. If she needs to go, I’ll back your call.” Across the yard, Eric has forgotten the cornbread. He’s holding a paper plate at a dangerous angle while the woman beside him speaks. I’ve seen my brother talk his way out of a parking ticket with an expired license. I’ve never seen him let a chicken wing fall because a woman asked him his name. 2The woman is the Alpha’s daughter, Hailey. My brother, who can make conversation with a brick wall, has gone perfectly still. Then Hailey smiles, and his whole face changes. By the time we climb into Grandpa’s SUV for the drive to the house, Eric and Hailey are in the back seat, speaking in low voices as if the rest of us have disappeared. “Are they fated mates?” I ask. “Yes, Roesha.” Grandpa glances at me. “Most shifters wait for theirs.” “Most?” He keeps his eyes on the road. “Beta Dominic Santino married a human woman named Clara. They have two daughters. He knew what he was choosing.” I look out at the pines slipping past the window. Until now, I’ve thought of finding my mate as the beginning of a story. It hadn’t occurred to me that I might walk into the middle of his, where people already loved him and counted on him to come home. “Clara is the patient you called me about?” “Yes. Dominic’s bringing her records by the house tonight.” Grandpa slows for the turn into his driveway. “I just pray he isn’t your mate.”