Saving His Nymph Mate

Chapter 9 - Advice

Candace quietly shut the front door as she walked into the house. Exhausted, she dropped her bag at the door and walked down the hallway. The hallway led to the sitting room and the rest of the house. It was a surprise to Candace to find her father sitting on the gray couch reading a book; a single lamp illuminated the room.

He looked at the clock on the wall when she approached. The clock read 4.23 a.m., and Candace got the message. He wasn’t too pleased that she came home late.

She sat down on the couch next to her father, who stood in place while silently watching her. He didn’t have an expression on his face, and she knew he was waiting for her to be the first to talk. She couldn't talk after the night's events.

Slowly, Candace walked towards her father and sat beside him. She laid her head on his shoulder and took her legs up on the couch close to her body. Her father gave her a questioning look at her sudden need for comfort before placing his arm around her. Candace laid by her father and stared out into the slightly dimmed room until tears slowly streamed down her face. Mr. Wood squeezed his daughter’s shoulder and brought her close as she continued to cry after the night’s turmoil. She worked hard not to think of the night’s events. To not think about Wyatt. She didn’t want to think about how good he made her feel, and at the anger she had towards him. Most of all, she didn’t want to think about Beth's near-death experience because of her. The tears continued to flow.

In the early morning, when the light sneaked above the trees, Candace fell asleep and her father slipped away, leaving her with a blanket and pillow.

A little after eleven, Candace woke up and was in search of her father. She found him in the garage underneath the hood. She watched him for a moment and noticed how he had tools scattered across his worktable. Her curiosity grew at the chaos of the garage with random car parts lying on the ground. She had never known her father to be a mechanic. He enjoyed working on different house projects, but this was outside of his expertise. Candace then looked at her father’s project. He was working on a compact car; she had difficulty identifying it. It was black and currently all the paint was peeling off. All the windows were gone, and the fabric of the seats faded.

She looked at her father, who was still working, and figured it wouldn’t be a good idea to scare him. From all the parts on the ground, it looked like he had been working on it throughout the week after his job at his self-owned IT business. She stepped back out of the garage and quietly shut the door. After a moment, Candace knocked on the garage door.

The door opened quickly, and her father stepped through the door and smiled.

“Hey princess, how are you this morning?”

Candace smiled faintly and said, “I am doing better. It’s great to be home again.”

He nodded in agreement. “Come, let’s go make breakfast.”

Candace turned around in the laundry room to walk towards the kitchen. Ingredients were scattered across the counter. Instantly, she smiled, understanding what he was doing. Candace sadly remembered her mother starting this tradition. Her mother would wake up early to set everything up. Once the family awakened, they all made breakfast together. She wanted to give the family an opportunity to be together.

Her father grabbed the bowl and looked up at her expectantly. Candace walked over and grabbed the eggs. She separated the whites from the yoke, putting them into separate bowls.

“Remember how your mother would get so frustrated when she didn’t separate the whites and the yolk just right?” Tyler grabbed the milk from the fridge and then turned on the skillet.

Candace smiled. “Yes, do you remember when she tried throwing it away and missed the trash can?”

Mr. Wood smiled brighter. “Yes, we had a sticky mess.”

Her smile fell instantly. “That was the morning before she died. I miss her.”

He put his arm around his daughter while she struggled with her tears. Guilt surfaced as she blamed herself for her mother not being around. It didn’t change the fact that she missed her mother, and wanted her there with them making breakfast. She would give anything to have that memory become a reality.

“Dad, why did it end that way? I know I couldn’t have been queen unless she did, but why did it have to be this way? Why did she make me go through with it?”

He stood perfectly still for a while before gently speaking. “The evening before she died, she told me she had felt the future.” He raised his arms up in a gesture of confusion. “She tried to explain it. I didn’t understand. But she told me, there is a reason you needed to be queen so young. There is a war coming, and you have been long awaited.”

Candace froze after hearing his words. With the bag of flour still in her hands, her full attention was on her father.

He looked at her. “She also said that she wanted me to tell you to trust him, because that trust will end up saving your life.”

Her eyes remained glued on her father and her thoughts ran rampant before she repeated the most pressing one. “Him?”

She felt like she needed to know who he was, because if it was going to save her life one day, she needed to know whom to trust in.

His eyes grew sad. His blue eyes looked like dark raindrops on a stormy day. The moment passed, and he collected himself. Her father turned towards the mixing bowl and took the flour from her. He poured in the expected amount and turned on the mixture. Candace just watched her father feeling a range of emotions, not sure which one to choose. Which one to believe in? Fear of the unknown future came up from its hole and squeezed her lungs. She put her hand around her throat, then let it drop to her chest, working to control her emotions.

Once the mixture stopped, Tyler spoke, “I’m sorry kiddo, she said nothing else. But by your face, I have a feeling you know who she is talking about.”

Candace continued to watch her father place batter on the skillet to cook. The sizzling of the batter was the only sound in the kitchen as her mind immediately went to Wyatt. Was he the person whom to trust? It made little sense to her. It was her mother who spoke negatively about werewolves. She warned her of their aggression and for Candace to stay away from them. As the pancake cooked, her father turned around and leaned against the counter.

“Are you going to tell me what happened last week that brought you home so upset?”

Feeling embarrassed, she fiddled with her shirt and said, “oh, nothing, just tired.”

“I know better. You typically come home happy.” He folded his arms. “That was not my happy daughter last night.”

Candace walked over to the stove and flipped the pancake over. She couldn’t avoid it, but nor did she have any other excuse. He would see right through all of her empty words. Submitting herself to relive the last forty-eight hours, she told her father.

“I met my pragma.” She bit the inside of her lip.

Her father instantly became concerned. “What? You did? Where?”

Candace told him everything. The meeting outside the café, following the wolves to their large pack gathering, and finished with their interaction on the crumpled building. She intentionally left out Beth’s interactions and the other brown wolf as well. She still hadn’t decided how to handle that.

She noticed her father watched her with every muscle tensed. As she spoke, she would flip the pancakes, take them off, then pour more on, weary of his mounting anger.

She ended her story and waited for her father’s reaction. After a moment, he took the plate of pancakes and walked to the table. He sat down without saying a word, and Candace felt anxious.

“Dad, are you okay?”

“Yes,” he waved her off, “who is your pragma?”

Candace sat down in the chair next to him and looked out the window. She watched the branches of the weeping willow swing back and forth in the breeze.

Quietly she said, “Wyatt Blackard. Alpha of the Aleph Pack.” She watched anxiously for his reaction, knowing he knew of their kind and how his wife felt about them.

Her father abruptly stood up, angry at the revelation.

Concerned, she asked, “why are you upset?”

“It’s nothing. Continue.” He walked to the kitchen, grabbing a glass and reaching for the scotch.

“Dad, I know it’s not nothing. I know what mom said. I didn’t choose him to be...” She let her words hang as the feeling she was not completely disappointed who fate had given her bloomed inside.

He glanced at her while taking a large drink from his cup. “it’s not that. Its…”

“What?” Candace had always been honest with her father and he always reacted thoughtfully and calmly. His behavior was very alarming to her.

After another sip, he set the cup down. “Of course I want you to find love, but I don’t want to live through the moment.”

Realization dawned on his behavior. She was his only child. He didn’t want his little girl to grow up, and finding her pragma was a big deal.

He huffed out air and said, “what is he like?”

She groaned and put her face in her hands before looking up. “He’s a wolf. Need I say more?”

Confused, he asked, “what’s wrong with a werewolf? We’ve always known they existed.”

“Because even in human form, they are just like their wolves, quick-tempered, arrogant, and overly confident.” She crossed her arms and looked up at her father.

Tyler Wood’s mouth turned up into a small grin. “That is quite the assessment. And was this assessment made before or after you found out he was a wolf?”

She held her father’s gaze. “Before.”

Her father rubbed his neck and sat down. As he grabbed the pancakes, he looked at his daughter. “And how many of these wolf attitude moments happened because you provoked it?”

She opened her mouth to refute him, but stopped and closed her mouth. Her mind revisited their encounters. She was angry at him for pulling her down after the café, and last night in the forest, she accused him of being a wolf. Something he could not change. Despite that, her anger flashed as she remembered her apology, as he quickly brushed it off. Remembering his hurt face as he left; against her will, her heart betrayed her.

His father continued, “you, Candace, have a very sassy temper that can get the better of your tongue. You are also stubborn and refuse to lose an argument.” He poured syrup over his pancakes and looked around the table for a fork.

Candace stood up and walked to the kitchen. “No, I am not; I am just strong willed and competitive.” She opened the drawer and grabbed two forks.

“You can look at it that way, too. My point, princess,” he waited as she sat back down before saying, “is neither of you will set aside your pride to actually get to know each other.”

She looked down at her plate that her dad made for her. She cut the first pancake and put a piece in her mouth. Despite not wanting to admit it, she felt like her father was right. She couldn’t deny that something drew them together. Candace realized she needed to fix this.

“Dad, what do I do now?”

Her father looked up from his food. “I can’t believe I am saying this.” He gave her a painful look. “But go find him.”