The Modern Witch's Guide to Faking It With a Werewolf

Max

Dallas stopped short the second we stepped into the waiting room.

I didn't have time to ask why—

Because then I saw her.

Dallas's mother, Nancy Lockwood.

Standing in the middle of the room, arms folded tight. She wore her usual slacks and a creme silk blouse. But her bright eyes— the same ones she'd given Dallas— glistened with an emotion I didn't like.

A cold, sharp kind of hurt that cut deep.

And Dallas?

She looked like she'd just been punched in the stomach.

I felt her stiffen beside me.

"Mom—"

Nancy lifted a hand.

"When were you going to tell me?"

Her voice wasn't loud.

Wasn't accusing.

But it landed like a damn grenade.

Dallas stammered. "I—I'm sorry—tell you what?"

I took a step back because I needed to give them a moment —didn't I?

But then—before she could even try to backpedal—

Her mother's eyes cut to me.

"Oh no, you don't, buddy."

She took one sharp step forward and grabbed my arm.

I didn't move.

Didn't even blink.

"I cannot believe the two of you have been skirting around behind our backs this entire time. For years."

Dallas let out a strangled noise. "Mom, it's not—"

"Never once," Nancy continued, talking right over her, "did either of you bother to say, 'Hey Mom, we're mates.' Or —Mrs. Lockwood, I'm planning to mark and mate your daughter— hope you are okay with that."

Silence.

A deep, staggering silence that sent a thrill down my spine.

Dallas's lips parted.

Her face paled.

Because she hadn't been expecting that.

Hadn't been expecting her mother to find it or much less—believe it.

Not just believe it—but to be hurt by the fact that we hadn't told her sooner.

And fuck.

I should have corrected it.

I should have said something. Right then.

But I didn't.

Because Dallas?

She wasn't correcting it either.

She wasn't saying a damn thing. Wasn't denying it.

And if she was going to let this happen?

So was I.

So instead of stepping in, instead of bailing her out, I watched her.

Studied her.

Because she was feeling something.

Something deep.

Something she didn't know how to deal with.