Zara's Wolf (Book 1 of the Zara's Wolf Trilogy) BWWM

32. Crashing Down

I introduce Evan to my parents that evening. They don't look too pleased.

“Aren't you the guy that found her in the forest?” Mama asks, her eyes narrowing into slits as she studies him.

“Yes, ma'am,” he says.

I can tell he's nervous around Mama. Not only does he look it, but I get the sense that he is. He smiles at her, but it doesn't reach his eyes.

“Can I speak to you for a minute, baby?” Mama says, grabbing my arm and pulling me out of the room.

I shoot Evan an apologetic look, but what worries me more is the sadness in his eyes. It reminds me of the other two times I brought boys home and introduced them to my parents. One was Jamaican, the other Anglo-American. They got on well with the Jamaican, but not so much the latter.

It didn't matter to me who I dated, just as long as he treated me right. It's not like I have a lot of African-American options in Portland—the city is seventy-five percent Caucasian. But should it really matter what color his skin is? Not in my books.

I'm all ready for Mama to play the race card, just in case, so I start before she gets a chance once we're out of earshot. “Mama, I've brought home a white boy before, it's no big de--”

“That's not what I'm getting at, baby,” she cuts me off.

Her tone is harder than usual, and I can't help but shrink back a little. She only uses that tone when she's furious, and I can see it in her eyes. They're blazing black coals.

“Now tell me something, how well do you know this boy?”

I was afraid that she'd ask that question because I ask myself that question too. How well do I really know Evan? I shrug, which is the wrong thing to do. “Well enough.”

“Don't you shrug those shoulders and pretend like it's all good,” she chides quickly. “Haven't you even considered for a minute that maybe he's the one responsible for drugging you?”

“Mama!”

“Don't you Mama me! You know I have only your best interests in mind,” she snaps, wagging her finger in my face. “Haven't you thought for even a second how convenient it was that he found you, and is now trying to sweep you off your feet? I mean, come on! My mama-senses are on full alert! That boy is trouble!”

I'm shaking my head. That's not possible. Evan wouldn't do that. “He's not that kind of guy, Mama. Trust me on that. He's like me.”

“What's that supposed to mean? Like you? He ain't nothing like you!”

“He's a shifter like me, Mama,” I snap. “We're the same. And only he can help me be the kind of person I was born to be. You can't help me with that.”

She looks as though she's struggling to speak. Her mind is racing a mile a minute and she can't get the words out fast enough—or she can get the words out without screaming loud enough for the whole block to hear.

“Fine,” she says finally. “But you find the truth out from that boy yourself. And don't come crying to me because I ain't gonna be the one to say, I told you so.”

I'm so angry and hurt. How could she say that about Evan to my face? Evan and I share a special connection that she and Daddy would never understand. Why does she have to accuse him of doing something so terrible?

I storm back into the living room where Evan and Daddy are waiting in silence. Grabbing Evan’s hand, I pull him up to my room and slam the door behind us.

“That good, huh?” he says as I growl in irritation under my breath.

He can try to make light of the situation all he wants, but that’s not going to erase the words Mama had said.