Forbidden

Chapter 36

A tense silence filled the space between us, until my dad walked in, snapping on his cufflinks and subsequently snapping the silence.

“Are you ladies ready?” he asked, oblivious to the black hole of apprehension he’d just walked into.

“Yes,” my mother said tightly, keeping her eyes on me. “Just let me get my purse.”

She turned around and snatched a pearl embroidered purse off the side table.

“The car’s started,” Hayden shouted down the hall.

“Good,” Tegan said happily, striding down the hall to follow him outside.

I followed after her slowly, mindful of the heels on the shoes I was wearing. I was almost out onto the porch when Tegan suddenly spun around, startling me out of my wits.

“What is it?” I cried, scrutinizing her surprised expression.

“I forgot my shawl,” she groaned, slapping her forehead before giving me a pleading expression. “Would you go get it for me?”

I sighed and rolled my eyes. “Fine. Where did you leave it?”

“In the kitchen, draped over one of the chairs.” She said.

I wrinkled my nose at her. “I thought you’d left it upstairs. You’re so lazy.”

She pushed me back inside and winked. “I’ll see you in the car!”

I frowned at her as she bounded down the steps toward the car where Hayden was waiting. She probably was only sending me for her stupid shawl so she could get five minutes alone with my brother. Yuck.

Deciding I wanted to see no part of that confrontation, I trudged slowly back to the kitchen, looking around until I spotted Tegan’s familiar black shawl draped haphazardly over the open French door and not one of the kitchen chairs like she’d said. I rolled my eyes, snatching it down before closing the French door and closing the lock.

I swung the shawl over my shoulder and busied myself turning off the lights in the kitchen before heading out, but that’s when I heard the muffled voices in the hall.

Quickly, I stepped back into the kitchen, flattening myself against the drywall sideways, so I wouldn’t be seen or heard. Still, I was curious, so I pressed my ear to the wall, trying to get a gauge on the conversation.

“…it’s not my fault, is it?” I heard my mother say, though her voice was muffled through the wall. She sounded hurt.

“Of course it’s not your fault honey,” my dad told her soothingly. “You were thinking about her well being, and the Pack.”

I frowned.

“But she hates me now,”