His Scarred Luna

Chapter 3

Megan acted like nothing had happened, like Lyra hadn’t vanished without a word for eight years. The moment the car was in motion, she launched into chatter, asking questions and talking as if only a few days had passed between them instead of nearly a decade.

Megan had always had a gift for making people feel welcome. It was what had made them such good friends in high school. Lyra had been the odd, shy kid, the outcast, and Megan had never been able to stand seeing anyone feel left out or uncomfortable. The easy warmth in Megan’s voice, the way she smiled sideways at Lyra, made it feel like they were still those teenage girls sneaking out of class to hide in the woods. It tugged at something deep and unsettled in her.

“I can’t believe you’re actually back,” Megan said, glancing at her. “Donovan’s going to be so excited to see you. And your dad? Goddess, he’s going to freak out.”

Lyra smiled softly. “He’s been telling me to come home for a while. I don’t think he’ll be too surprised.”

Megan gave her a sidelong look. “He’s missed you so much. He’s going to be thrilled.”

“I’ve missed them too.” Lyra turned to the window. The forest blurred past, both familiar and foreign. “I missed you, too.” The words came out so softly, she wasn’t sure Megan had heard them.

But she had. “I missed you, too.” Megan’s voice cracked slightly, and Lyra felt the sting of tears rise in her throat.

She cast around for something to break the tension. “I see you’re pregnant.”

Megan frowned. “No, I’m not. What are you talking about?”

Lyra opened her mouth, then closed it again. Megan’s swollen belly was unmistakable, but you were never supposed to assume.

Megan burst out laughing. “I’m messing with you. I’m as big as a blimp. Of course I’m pregnant. I’m due in a couple of weeks, though I wouldn’t mind if he decided to come a little early.”

Lyra laughed, the relief warm and sudden. “So, it’s a boy?”

Megan nodded.

“And the father? Your mate, I assume?”

Megan nodded again, eyes sparkling. “Yep. But you’re never going to guess who it is.”

Lyra raised an eyebrow. “Who?”

“Callan Selby.”

Lyra blinked. “Callan Callan? ‘Silent McJudgy’? Always-sitting-in-the-back-row-glaring Callan?”

Megan nearly doubled over with laughter. “The very one. Turns out, he’s just really reserved. Not secretly plotting our demise.”

“No way.” Lyra shook her head, genuinely stunned. “You hated him.”

“And then the Moon Goddess laughed in my face.” Megan shrugged. “He came back from the academy, and boom — mates. Just like that.”

“I did not see that one coming.”

“Neither did I,” Megan said, grinning sheepishly. “But it’s good. He’s good. Took me a while to realize it, but we balance each other.”

Lyra tilted her head. “You seem happy.”

“I am,” Megan said warmly. “What about you? Any luck with guys out there?”

Lyra rolled her eyes. “No. I’ve been living with humans since I left. Nothing interesting there.”

“I doubt that,” Megan said, then fell quiet. “I’m really glad you’re back. Things haven’t been the same without you.”

Before Lyra could explain she wasn’t planning to stay, the familiar gravel crunch of the driveway came into view. The house looked almost exactly the same. Same white siding weathered by time, same porch swing still slightly crooked, wind chimes clinking lazily in the breeze. Her heart stuttered in her chest.

She was home.

The front door opened before they even got out of the car.

“Lyra!” Donovan’s voice rang down from the porch. He was perched in his wheelchair, grinning like it was Christmas morning.

Lyra’s breath caught. When she’d left, Donovan had been twelve, small for his age, all gangly limbs and awkward energy. Now he was a man. His chest was broad, his shoulders strong, and his arms thick with muscle. His shaggy black hair nearly fell into his dark eyes, and his chin was dusted with stubble. Only his legs, thin and unmoving, were unchanged.

“Donovan!” Lyra flew out of the car and ran up the ramp to the porch. He opened his arms wide, and she threw herself into them.

“Goddess, Donnie,” she whispered, tears stinging her eyes.

“’Bout damn time, Lyr,” he said, his voice tight. “You took your sweet time coming home.”

“I know.” She laughed through her tears. “I’m sorry.”

The creak of the screen door behind them made her look up.

“Well, well, well... looks like hell finally froze over.”

Lyra turned to see her father standing in the doorway, arms crossed, a grin pulling at his weathered face. Lyle’s hair, black like hers and Donovan’s, was now cut short, and his eyes, identical to Donovan’s, shone with emotion.

“Hi, Dad.” Lyra stood and straightened.

He crossed the porch in two strides and wrapped her in a hug that smelled like pine sap and home.

“I forgot how much you look like your mother,” he murmured into her hair. “I’ve missed you so damn much.”

Lyra clung to him, unwilling to let go.

“We should go inside,” Lyle said after a moment, clearing his throat and stepping back. “Meg needs to be off her feet as much as possible.”

Of course. Her dad was still the same, always trying to take care of everyone. He ushered them all through the door into the living room. Not much had changed since she’d left. The couch had been replaced, but still looked old and well-used. The television sat on the same stand in the corner. The threadbare rug still covered most of the cracked hardwood floor.

“Where’s your car?” Donovan asked as Megan and Lyra settled onto the couch. Lyle disappeared into the kitchen.

“Broke down on the road in,” Lyra explained, recounting how Russ and Megan had come to her rescue.

“You should’ve called me,” Lyle said, returning with a pitcher of lemonade and glasses. “I would’ve come to get you.”

“My phone died about an hour before I got here,” Lyra said, leaning forward to pour lemonade. “Otherwise, I would have.”

“At least we get to see Megan,” Donovan said, accepting a glass. “Callan’s been pretty strict about her staying close to home lately.”

“He’s overprotective,” Megan said with a chuckle. “But he’s learned I’ll do as I please. And I’ll always come check on my second family.”

It warmed Lyra’s heart to hear how Megan had stayed close to her family. Lyle launched into stories about work around town. He was still the local handyman, fixing everything from roofs to old cars. It had always been enough to support them as a single dad.

A loud knock on the door cut him off.

Lyle got up to answer it, and a moment later, Callan Selby stood in the doorway.

Lyra hadn’t seen him since they were seventeen, and now he was all angles and confidence. Tall, lean, with close-cropped black hair and the same sharp nose. He looked nothing like the silent, brooding boy from their youth.

“You didn’t have to come,” Megan said with a sigh. “I can drive myself.”

“I know,” Callan replied, his voice warm as he smiled gently at her. “But maybe I wanted to take you home.”

Megan blushed. Callan stepped forward, helping her stand, and leaned down to kiss her cheek.

Lyra was stunned by the display. The Callan she remembered had been silent and scowling. This man, soft-eyed and steady, was something else entirely.

“Lyra.” Callan nodded toward her. “It’s been a long time.”

“Indeed,” she replied. “Congratulations are in order, I guess.”

He smiled faintly. “We’re excited to be parents.”

“I’m excited,” Megan cut in. “He’s a nervous wreck. Constantly baby-proofing the beta wing, buying every gadget in the book.”

“Someone has to be prepared,” Callan said, rolling his eyes. “We should get going. You need rest.”

“I’m fine,” Megan said, waving a hand, but she still turned to say goodbye.

Lyra walked them to the door and gave Megan a tight hug.

“I’m so glad you’re back,” Megan whispered. “I’ve missed you so much.”

Lyra held on a little longer, letting herself enjoy the warmth of her friend’s embrace.