Intertwined

Her dad waved a dismissive hand. “Once he had your name, all he had to do was look you up at a later date. Finding people isn’t difficult these days.”



So that was the rationale he had convinced himself of. And she’d once thought him the most intelligent man on earth. “So he waited five years to find me, just to freak you out? His knowing the name of my boyfriend before I started dating the guy was a coincidence, right?” She laughed without humor. “Stop stalling and tell me about my mother. Or so help me, I’ll go upstairs, pack my bag and leave. You will never see me again.”



He opened his mouth to protest, then closed it with a snap. She’d never threatened him like that, so he had no way of knowing if she’d actually see it through. She didn’t, either. Mad as she was, she thought she just might be able to do it.



He gave her a stiff nod. “Anne got pregnant while she was still in high school. Her family was upset, Carolyn most of all, and rightfully so. Anne ended up dropping out, and we got married. The only silver lining was that she stopped disappearing once she was pregnant with you. I thought impending motherhood had changed her. We were so happy those days despite the shotgun wedding. Then your mother began to weaken. No one knew why. She was so weak, in fact, we thought she’d lose you. But she didn’t. She held on. Then you were born and Anne…she…she…died, immediately afterwards. The doctors couldn’t explain it. She didn’t have any condition that placed her at high risk and hadn’t weakened further, but the moment they placed you in her arms, she just sort of drifted away from us.”



He’d done the right thing, marrying her birth mom, whom he’d loved. Despite everything, Mary Ann was proud of him for that. Tucker wasn’t doing the same for Penny. Not that many teenagers would.



Her dad cleared his throat, his chin trembling. “There I was, this eighteen-year-old kid with a baby to raise on his own. As you know, neither of your grandparents are the most supportive of people, so they wanted nothing to do with us. The only person who would help me was Carolyn, but again, her parents hated me, blamed me for Anne’s fall from grace and eventual death. So we raised you together. She had always wanted marriage, still loved me, so I did it, I married her.



“I never stopped loving Anne, though, and Carolyn knew it. I didn’t deserve her, but still she stayed with me. I owed her so much and she loved you as if you were her own. She was afraid if you knew, you wouldn’t love her as much, that you, too, would love Anne more. I promised her I wouldn’t tell you, and until now, I kept my word.”



So many things made sense now. And yet her entire world had crumbled around her, ceasing to exist, building itself up as something different, something foreign. Truth now, rather than lies.



She’d just forgiven one friend for betraying her, and now she was faced with another betrayal. From someone who was supposed to protect her in all things, someone who had encourage her always to tell the truth, no matter how painful.



Mary Ann pushed to legs that still didn’t want to hold her up. “I’m going upstairs to pack my bag. I’m not running away,” she assured her dad when he jumped up. “I just need a little time. I’ll stay with a friend. I need to do this, and you owe it to me.”



His shoulders slumped. He was in his thirties, but just then he looked like a used up old man on the verge of death. “Which friend? What about school? What about work?”



“I don’t know yet, but don’t worry. I won’t miss a day of school. Work, though, I’m going to call in sick.” And it wouldn’t be a lie. She’d never been so heartsick.



“Take the car, at least.”



“No, I—”



He held up his hand, cutting her off. “Take the car or stay here. Those are your only options.” He reached into his desk, withdrew the key and tossed it at her.



She missed and had to bend over to pick it up. Her muscles were protesting so violently she almost couldn’t stand back up.



“Take this, too,” he said. He unlocked the bottom drawer of his desk. This time he pulled out a yellowed notebook. “It was your mother’s. Anne’s.”



All this time, he’d had something of her mother’s, her real mother’s, and he’d kept it from her. She claimed it with a shaky hand, wanting to hate him. Silent, she left the office and went to her room to pack. Her backpack was lighter than normal, as it was usually filled with books rather than clothing, but it weighed her down more than ever.



As she drove away, the house she’d lived in most of her life fading from the rearview mirror, tears poured down her cheeks, hot and unceasing. She mourned the mother she’d never met, the father she’d thought she had known, and the innocence that had once surrounded her.



She wanted to blame her dad for it all, but she couldn’t, not after reading between the lines of his story. She might very well have killed her mother.



Like Aden, her mother had been able to time travel. That meant, also like Aden, her mother had possessed a supernatural ability. Mary Ann negated those abilities. The moment of her conception, her mother had stopped time traveling. That was fact. During the nine months she’d been inside her mother’s womb, she’d weakened her, draining her strength bit by bit. Also fact. And then, the moment of her birth, her mother had simply stopped being. Because of her?



For hours she drove, fighting to get herself under control—and losing. The journal taunted her. She circled the neighborhood, then drove past the D and M, stopping, realizing she was too emotional to go inside, then backtracking to her own neighborhood. The moon was high, golden. Traffic was thinning by the minute, as were the number of people working on their yards or simply relaxing outside. But what hid in the shadows, waiting to strike? She was afraid of the answer.



She spotted the wolf running alongside the car a few miles from her house. She recognized the black fur, the glowing green eyes, and pulled to the side of the road. Good thing she’d stopped. The tears blurred her vision. Worse, there was a sob lodged in her throat, one she couldn’t rid herself of. It was there, scraping against her voice box, sharp and burning, as if covered in acid.



Wait for me, Riley told her inside her head.



She couldn’t. She needed him, but she also needed to be alone. Most of all, she needed…she didn’t know what. To get away, to forget. Mary Ann jumped from the car and just started running. Running from what she’d learned, running from the pain and the uncertainty. Tears continued to pour from her. The wolf gave chase, paws slapping against the ground.



He caught up to her and jumped on her back, knocking her to the ground. She lay there, without breath and unable to move. Dangerous out here, he said in her mind. Go back to the car. Now.



He was right, she knew he was, but she stayed where she was, sobbing, choking. His warm tongue stroked her cheek, the corner of her eye.



Please, Mary Ann. You don’t want to face a goblin.



She nodded and stood, then tripped her way back to the car. He didn’t hop in as she expected but trotted into nearby trees. Only a few minutes passed before he reappeared in human form. He wore a wrinkled shirt and pair of slacks, both obviously pulled on hastily. Hinges squeaked as he entered, and then the lock clicked into place when he was settled.



“I’m sorry if you were hurt back there,” he said. “Like I said, goblins are out tonight and I didn’t want them to catch your scent. My brethren are tracking them, and I didn’t want you in their sights, either.”



She turned on him. “Where have you been?” The words were a screech, blazing from her, followed quickly by another sob. Her entire body shook with it, not stopping, only increasing in intensity until she was once again choking, gagging, lost to the grief and the anger. At herself, her father.



“Hey, hey,” Riley said, lifting her out of the seat and onto his lap. “What’s wrong, sweetheart? Tell me.”



Sweetheart. He’d called her sweetheart. It was so wonderful, so welcome, yet it made her cry even harder. Between sobs, she told him what she’d learned. He cradled her the entire time, soothing her with his hands, with the same little coos she’d given Penny. And then he was kissing her, his lips meshed against hers, his tongue warm and sweet and wild, his fingers tangled in her hair.



For a moment, lights illuminated them as a car drove past and they froze. But the moment darkness once more swathed them, they were kissing again. It, too, was wonderful and beautiful and hotter than anything she’d ever done. Her hands were tangled in his hair, his were tangled in hers. They were pressed against each other, soaking each other in. She felt safe, even though she was drowning in sensation, in him; she never wanted it to end. She wanted to linger, as he’d once told her to do.



“We have to stop,” he rasped.



Clearly they weren’t on the same page. “Don’t want to.” With his arms around her like this, she didn’t have to think, could only feel him and the happiness of being with him.



His thumb caressed her cheek. “Trust me. It’s for the best. We’re in a car and out in the open. But we can—will—pick this up later.”



Though she still wanted to protest, she nodded.



“Now, where were you headed?” he asked, his concern returning.



After a deep, shuddering breath, she said, “As soon as I got my emotions under control, I was going to the ranch where Aden lives. I was going to somehow sneak him out and drive him to where his parents live. Or used to live. Did I tell you we were born at the same hospital on the same day?”



“No.” Riley’s head tilted to the side and his hands, which were still wound around her, stopped drawing circles on her back. “That’s odd.”



“I know.”



“And significant, I’m sure.”



“I agree. It can’t be a simple coincidence. After we visit his parents, I want to go to the hospital where he—we—were born.”



“I’ll go with you. Victoria is on her way to Aden’s now. We can pick them both up.” He opened the door and emerged, easily lifting her with him, then walked around and settled her in the passenger seat. “I’ll drive.”