KEEGAN POV
The damn lasagna was steaming in front of me, the kitchen smelled like roasted tomatoes, garlic, and whatever spices Mom threw in that made her food taste like a warm hug. It should’ve been a cozy evening—just us, back at the cottage for dinner. No tension. No pacing. No thoughts of Kathleen.
Lie.
Every breath I took tasted like her. Like peaches, orange blossoms and honey. Even with the pendant still cloaking her mate scent, it had seeped into my system earlier that morning when we finally found her. Our girl. And we’d known, right then, that we’d been breathing half-air our whole lives until she showed up.
But now?
Now I was sitting at the old dinner table, surrounded by my grinning-ass brothers and my overjoyed parents, pretending to be calm.
Kendrick, the smug bastard,
