His Stray

Chapter 6

Thirteen years prior

Celia sat in the grass with Lucas near the fence at the back of the playground. Lucas was determined to find a four-leaf clover, convinced it would bring them both good luck. But Celia had grown tired of searching after the first few minutes. Now she leaned against the chain-link fence, absently plucking blades of grass and tearing them into tiny bits.

“He was real mad,” Lucas said, tossing aside another little clover. “He was screaming and then he threw a glass across the room. Mom started crying.”

Celia winced. She hated when Lucas talked about his dad. She couldn’t imagine living with someone like that. Her dad was always kind. He brought her sweets and little wildflowers he found around the grounds. He was older than everyone else’s dad, sometimes the kids thought he was her grandpa, but she wouldn’t trade him for anything.

“Why can’t your mom just leave?” Celia asked, twirling a blade of grass between her fingers.

Lucas sat back on his heels and looked at her, his shaggy hair falling into his eyes again. “She can’t just leave. Where would she go?”

Celia didn’t know how to answer that. She thought for a second, then shrugged. “Maybe she could come live with us. My dad would help.”

Lucas’s mouth twitched like he almost wanted to smile. “Yeah. That would be nice.”

They fell quiet. Celia went back to shredding grass. Lucas kept digging through the clover patches, determined.

After a while, he glanced over. “Hey, how come you don’t have the same last name as your mom and dad?”

Celia blinked, caught off guard. “What do you mean?”

“Well, your name’s Celia Rockwell. But your dad is Harold Everhart. Isn’t your mom’s name Everhart too?”

“Oh.” Celia twisted a long piece of grass around her finger. “It’s ‘cause when they found me, my name was already in my jacket. Inside, on the part by the neck. It said ‘Celia Rockwell.’ So that’s what they always called me.”

Lucas frowned. “Who wrote it?”

She shrugged again. “Dunno.”

He was quiet for a moment, then asked, “Do you ever wonder where your real parents are?”

Celia pressed her lips together. That was a hard question. Sometimes she did wonder. Sometimes she even dreamed about them, faces she couldn’t see, voices she couldn’t remember. But mostly she didn’t let herself think about it. She picked at a scab on her knee. “Not really. I like my mom and dad now.”

Lucas nodded like he was trying to understand. “Yeah. Okay.”

For a while they didn’t say anything. Lucas moved a little closer and started picking through the clover right by her knee. It made her feel kind of warm inside. Over the last few weeks, he had started sitting with her more and more. Playing by her at recess. Even though he still ran off sometimes to play tag or kickball, he always came back. It felt like maybe he was her friend.

“Lucas.”

They both jumped. Miss Hartley stood a few feet away, arms crossed over her chest. Her mouth was pinched, her thin eyebrows pulled tight together.

“Why are you sitting all the way back here? There are plenty of other children to play with.”

Lucas blinked up at her. “I want to play here.”

Miss Hartley’s mouth got even tighter. “You’re the alpha’s son. You should be socializing properly. Why don’t you go join Jared and Teegan?”

Lucas shook his head. “I want to stay with Celia.”

The teacher’s lips pressed into a hard line. Her eyes flicked to Celia, then back to Lucas. “Suit yourself. But I’ll be speaking to your father about this.”

She walked off without waiting for an answer. Celia’s stomach twisted a little. Her dad always said some people didn’t understand that families didn’t all look the same. Maybe that was what she meant. Or maybe it was because of the things people still whispered about her sometimes, calling her the stray.

But then Lucas gave a little huff and flopped down right next to her, close enough their shoulders almost touched.

“She’s mean,” he muttered.

Celia giggled, the knot in her belly loosening. She liked that he stayed. Even if he didn’t say it, it felt like maybe he liked being there with her too.

**

“Alpha Marcus,” called one of the pack members as soon as they walked into the dining hall.

Lucas’s dad waved and strolled off without so much as a glance back at his mate and sons. His mother gave Lucas’s shoulder a gentle squeeze, then guided him and Landon to the serving line for dinner. They sat at their usual table, the one the alpha insisted they use, right in the center of the room. Landon said it was because their dad liked everyone looking at them.

Lucas wasn’t sure why anyone would want that.

He picked at the meatloaf on his plate, swinging his feet under the chair. His mom kept talking softly to Landon about his lessons that afternoon. Lucas’s eyes wandered around the hall. It was loud and smelled like bread and roasted meat. The wooden tables were full of pack members. Everyone laughed and talked and scraped their forks on their plates.

Then he saw her.

Celia darted out of the kitchen carrying a big basket of rolls. She wore a too-large apron that almost swallowed her tiny frame. Her blonde hair was pulled up in a messy knot. She didn’t see him at first. But when she turned back with an empty basket, her eyes caught his. Her face brightened. She puffed her cheeks out and crossed her eyes.

Lucas almost snorted milk out of his nose. He stuck two straws up his nostrils and made a silly face back. Celia covered her mouth, giggling, then hurried into the kitchen again.

He was about to take another bite when a heavy hand clamped down on his shoulder. Lucas jumped, nearly dropping his fork.

His father stood behind him, eyes narrowed. “What are you doing, Lucas?”

Lucas blinked up at him. “Nothing. Just… eating.”

His father’s gaze swept toward the kitchen door, then back to Lucas. “Looked to me like you were playing around. With that little stray again.”

Lucas’s stomach sank. “She’s not a stray. Her name’s Celia.”

Marcus leaned down, lowering his voice so only Lucas and his mother could hear. “One of the teachers came to me today. Said you’re spending lots of time with her at school. Playing with her. You need to be careful who you choose to spend time with.”

Lucas frowned. “Why? She’s nice. She’s my friend.”

His father’s lips pulled tight. “Of course you wouldn’t understand. You’re just like your mother. Always trying to drag in strays and broken things.” His eyes flicked to his mate. “If I had let her, she would have kept that little girl here in this house with us.”

Lucas didn’t really know what that meant. He looked at his mom. Her face was pale, her hand tight around her fork.

“She’s just a little girl,” his mother said quietly. “Let him be a boy, Marcus. Let him have friends.”

His father’s jaw ticked. Then he leaned even closer to her, speaking so low Lucas could barely catch it. “You’ll speak to me later about what I let him do.”

Lucas’s chest squeezed. He felt a twisty sort of dread curl through his belly. His mother just nodded, her eyes on her plate.

Marcus straightened and gave Lucas one last hard look. “I expect better judgment from you, boy. Remember your place.”

Then he walked off toward another table where some of the older warriors sat. Lucas’s shoulders sagged. Across the hall, the kitchen door swung open and Celia popped her head out. She made a goofy face again, one hand waving.

Lucas just stared at her. His face didn’t move at all. After a second, her smile fell. She ducked back into the kitchen, her shoulders drooping.

Lucas looked down at his plate. His food tasted like sawdust. Something cold settled in his chest, and he didn’t really understand why. He just knew that somehow he had ruined the game they’d been playing without even meaning to.