Chapter Thirty

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A knock on the door finally breaks me away from Sam. Who is it? His mother? My parents? His grandfather? Everyone?

Evelyn, seriously, calm the fuck down, Eliza mutters, trying to sound annoyed, but I can tell she's a little worried about my panic. 

"Do you want me to get it?" he asks. I lift my head to sniff the air and I catch a hint of my parents' scents lingering outside. I shake my head before placing a kiss on his cheek. 

"I want you to spread the oleo and seasoning on the rolls now that they're warm and then put them back in on a lower setting," I tell him. "Do you mind?" He grins in response and shakes his head. I hear another knock, more tentative this time. 

"Go," he nudges, kissing me quickly before turning me towards the doorway. 

I quickly find myself in front of the big red door, ignoring Eliza's grumbles of how long this is taking. I open the door to see my parents practically holding their breaths. They both look me up and down and release huge sighs of relief. Normally, my mother would have ambushed me in a giant hug by now; what is causing her to be so hesitant with me? 

After she, once again, verifies that I have no visible injuries on my body, her eyes meet mine.

She looks better than I expected, I hear Ophelia, my mother's wolf, comment gratefully. She sounds as if she wants to say more, though. 

But, I should still give her space, I know, I know, my mother responds sadly. Her arms twitch as the urge to wrap me up in them overwhelms her. My heart breaks for a moment at the thought of my own mother stopping herself from hugging me. 

She's listening to us, her wolf tells her. I glance at my father, then, whose thoughts are more difficult to peak into. 

I realize I haven't really said or done anything since opening the door. They know I have experienced a life's worth of trauma in a very short period of time and I'm the one who could fall apart at any given moment. They're clearly taking my lead on this one. 

The problem is, they've been through a lot, too. I can't imagine everything they've been through since we were separated. My mother was on the brink of death when we found her and I'm not sure she will want to talk about anything she experienced; I'm not sure I'd even want to hear it. I just want to take their lead on this. 

I suck it up, though, and instead of making them wait any longer, I attack them both in a warm embrace. My mother instantly bursts into tears and nuzzles her face into my hair. My father strokes both of our backs comfortingly as we all just cry. No one knows exactly what to say. What is there to say?

They won't want to hear my unnecessary apologies. And I surely don't want to hear theirs.

"Tell me everything," my mother chokes out finally, pushing me away slightly. It's as if something breaks inside of her. Whatever she had holding herself together falls apart with those three words and she begins babbling so fast I can hardly keep up. "Evander kind of told us what happened here, but I want to know everything. Have you made friends? Do you have things you like to do? Do you like your new house? I cannot wait for you to tell me everything about your mate."

The more she talks, the more she turns into her old self. The worried, traumatized woman that stood before me a minute ago has melted away and left me with this gushing, invasive personality that I always loved.

"I haven't met too many people, yet," I tell them. "But I've made a few good friends so far." I think of Connor and Penelope, who I haven't seen in what feels like an incredibly long time. 

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