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  Second Chance Mates

  Copyright: Sabrina Vance

  Published: April 2012

  Smashwords edition

  The right of Sabrina Vance to be identified as author of this Work has been asserted by her under the Copyright, Designs and Patents Act 1988.

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  Find out more about the author and upcoming books online at www.sabrinavance.com.

  Chapter One

  "I don't want to talk about it." Clara's words came out a lot firmer than she felt, but that was probably due to the rage simmering inside her; a rage that only just outweighed her desire to burst into tears and sob her heart out. It wouldn't be the first time she'd cried publicly but thankfully the crying fits had subsided from every breath two years ago to only every few weeks now. Perhaps she was just all cried out. Still, the constant barrage of opinions about her future—or lack of—today from her family made it difficult to stay calm.

  "Well, I won't sit quietly and watch you slowly slip away," came her mother's voice, every bit as strong as her own. "Enough is enough. Colton's been dead two years now and you need to start living."

  "Mom. Enough!" Clara dropped her fork on her plate. Rudely scraping her chair back, she got to her feet and strode away from the table into the living room, away from her family. Away from the people who loved her and only wanted the best for her, a little voice in her head reminded her.

  Family dinners were supposed to be warm and assuring, reminding her she wasn't alone, but instead this Friday night meal was apparently going to be one big lecture courtesy of her mother; one that her sister, brother and father were all going to let happen. What was it her mother called it? Oh yes. An intervention. Like she needed one. She was perfectly happy.

  No, that was a lie.

  She was miserable, absolutely miserable without Colton, but she couldn't even comprehend happiness. It was just too soon.

  Staring out the window with her arms crossed defensively across her chest, she barely took in the semi-rural landscape as tears pricked her eyes. Clara couldn't even begin to describe to her family how she felt. How she knew her unhappiness wasn't healthy, but that to even step towards any semblance of happiness would feel like an enormous betrayal to Colton. Her Colton. Her husband for two years; two years too short, and ripped away far too soon. He had been everything to her.

  She inclined her head upwards towards the half moon rising in the inky blue-black sky. It had been a warm summer night like tonight when her world came to a crushing end, and now she tread the waters of existence without really living.

  Out of nowhere, the image of Colton's brother Cade flashed into her mind. Handsome, warm, always quick with a joke or a tease… Cade wouldn't let them speak to her like this. He would understand. He'd lost Colton too. And so much more, the annoying little voice in her mind said. Clara squeezed her eyes shut and forced the image from her mind.

  Behind her, she caught the sound of her father's footsteps moving towards her, first one heavy footfall, then one lighter one, caused by a limp from a broken leg ten years that hadn’t quite healed properly. He stopped by her side, a few inches away, and slid a heavy arm around her shoulders, pulling her against his side so she rested against the thick red plaid shirt.

  "You know we're only trying to do the best for you, Clara," he murmured, his voice a low rumble. Tom was a big man, powerfully built with lungs that spent too long exhaling chastisements at her and her sister and brother when they were young, and a frame that though older now still said lithe. Like most of the men in their lycan community his tan face was yet without lines thanks to their slower aging process. Yet, unlike many of the 'fight first, questions later' men they knew in their community, Tom was equally adept at knowing just when to be soft and gentle. Like now.

  "I know," Clara said, relaxing her arms and shoulders slightly and leaning in to her dad. Of course they had her best interests at heart. It didn't necessarily mean she wanted to hear it. She clung to her stubbornness like a baby clung to a security blanket.

  "But your mother is right. You're not happy and you're wasting away. You're too thin and you've got a dead look in your eyes. Colton would not want this for you."

  "I know," she repeated, this time her voice choked with the tears she refused to let out.

  "Why don't you move back home, let us take care of you for a while?" Tom suggested. "That's what family is for. We're here for each other, without question."

  "Thanks, Dad, but I'm fine where I am really."

  "Are you?" asked Tom and she caught a snag of concern.

  "The property still needs a lot of work but I'm getting there. I know I'm a lot slower than Colton, but I'll get there eventually."

  "That I know," agreed Tom, who never thought she could do anything a man couldn’t. "I still don't see why you won't hire some help."

  "Good labor isn't exactly easy to come by," Clara pointed out. "I fired the last two guys when they thought they could claim a full week's wage even though they spent half their days chilling in the woods where they thought I couldn't see them."

  "Good for you, honey. But why you don't get shifters to help you? They won't rip you off and they’ll work twice as hard. McLuskey’s sons are in need of work, or so I hear."

  Clara huffed. Sure, they wouldn't rip her off, not if they had any care for their position in their society, but they would also sniff around her and maybe even try and claim her as a mate and that wasn't going to happen. She already bore Colton's mating mark, with pride—had for years, even prior to their marriage—but everyone knew she was a widow and apparently that made her fair game again for all the unmated males, especially as she was unencumbered, in their eyes, with children. Little did they know how much she longed for them, how she and Colton had been trying for their own when he was cruelly taken from her.

  No. Truth was, she couldn't be bothered with fending off the advances of interested males. She had too much to do to finish the sanctuary that her farm would eventually become, and besides how could anyone ever match up to her husband?

  Only Cade had been his match.

  At the thought of her husband's brother, her breath caught and she shook her head, as if she could rid her mind of his unbidden image that easily. She hadn't seen him since Colton's funeral, when she'd barely been able to see straight for crying, and except for the occasional terse email checking in on her, she hadn't heard from him since. She understood, of course. Things had been fraught for years between them and it was all down to her.

  From the moment she met Cade, shortly after she and Colton started dating in her senior year, she knew Colton wasn't the only one destined to be her mate. No, fate had determined that Cade was too, only she had rejected him, preferring to mate with only one male, and not the multiple she could claim as her right as a lycan female.

  Eventually Colton had dragged it out of her and, surprising, insisted he was fine, that he could cope with sharing, especially given that fate had given her brothers, and close ones at that, but she had argued time and again, that she only wanted him, even if her inner wolf pleaded with her, howled,
to take them both and not only the times when she had wondered what it would be like to be thoroughly loved by two men. Two handsome, strong men who adored her.

  Cade had offered himself again to her, just one once more, after the funeral, telling her he loved her, and would wait for her and she could always rely on him to be there for her. That he hated to see her so sad. She remembered hitting his chest with her fists and screaming at him to go away.

  And he had.

  And now she was alone.

  "I'll think about it," she said.

  Her father gave her a reassuring squeeze. "Sure you will," he agreed, but they both knew she wouldn't. She was too stubborn.

  "No, she won't. She's too stubborn." Her mother heaved a sigh as she voiced everyone's thoughts and they both turned to look at the diminutive woman who crept up on them and now stood there, hands on hips. "It's time to stop this indulgent nonsense. Clara, if you insist on staying at that damned farm, you need to accept you need help. And if you won't take help, maybe you should reconsider the offer you got for the place and move into town."

  "Over my dead body!" growled Clara as she whipped around.

  Her mother squared up to her, her chin thrust upwards, her mouth in a determined line. "It might just come to that, young lady!"

  "Don't young lady me!"

  "Then listen to me. Colton is gone and he's never coming back. You need to get a life because you damn well deserve happiness and I won't stand by and see you slip away because you're so miserable you’re driving yourself into an early grave!"

  "Then don't watch," snapped Clara, the anger seeping unbidden into her voice, even though her own chin wobbled slightly at her mother’s sharp truth.

  "Grow up, girl! Go into town with you girl friends, whom, by the way, I know you've been avoiding."

  "Have not!" Except, Clara thought with an internal grimace, she probably was. Her small circle had been fast friends since school but now she couldn't face seeing them while her insides wilted every time she laughed or allowed herself an ounce of happiness. Robyn and Lauren and all her friends had never experienced loss like this, didn't know how to deal with her crying fits and maudlin attitude. She couldn’t blame them. Not really.

  "Yes you have! And for that matter, why don't you go out on a date with a nice man? I know Matthew Harris asked you out only last week and you shot him down. Not too politely either from what I hear. Since when did one of my children lose her manners?"

  "I said no, and he wouldn't let up," Clara protested. Matthew had been perfectly understanding about it too when he asked her out right after he helped her load groceries into her truck, which sort of made how rude she'd been even worse. She’d felt bad about it sure, but not enough to apologize. Matthew would probably take it as a hint that she liked him after all and she didn’t want to give that impression.

  "What you need is to get laid," her mother decided. Her husband slapped a hand against his forehead and closed his eyes.

  "Mom!"

  "It's true. You need some love back in your life or at least some good lovin'."

  "I'm not listening to this." Clara stepped away, making to move into another room, anywhere but near her mother's pointed words.

  Her mother followed her. "While you're in my house, you'll listen to reason."

  "Then I'll go," said Clara. Grabbing her jacket from where it lay folded over the back of the sofa, she slammed out the house before her parents could protest.

  Pulling her jacket around her shoulders, she fumbled in her pocket for her keys, trying to ignore the sudden eruption of noise emanating from her parents' house as her father berated her mother for being too tough, and her mother berated her dad for being too soft. She'd walked out a few times in the past two years and they'd been incredibly indulgent to her grief, but she got it. That understanding was over. They wanted her to move on, forgot about Colton, as if that was even conceivable. Every day she lived and breathed his memory, working on the farm they created together, their shared vision of a sanctuary for those of their kind ever present in her mind.

  Like hell could she move on.

  Pulling open the door of Colton's truck, Clara climbed onto the driver's seat, slamming the door shut as hard as she could, fully aware that made her look like an angry teen and not a grown woman.

  Firing up the engine, she sat for a moment, her hands gripping the steering wheel while she concentrated on breathing in and out, making sure she calmed down enough for the drive home. Just as she slid the car into drive, and pressed her foot to the gas pedal, her mother came storming out, calling her name.

  With a sigh, Clara unwound the window and waited for whatever her mother was about to yell at her next.

  "I love you, Clara," said her mom, simply when she came to a stop by the door. "But I can't stand by and watch you so unhappy. It's killing me to see my baby girl go through this so I can't imagine how it is for you. And I'll say it again, even though I know you don't want to hear it, Colton would not want this for you. He wouldn't want you this miserable. Everyone knew how much you two loved each other, at the expense of everyone else and don't you pretend you don't know what I mean. If you'd accepted fate, you wouldn't be feeling so alone now."

  Clara winced as Cade flashed into her mind, a handsome backdrop to Colton’s plea that she should consider his brother again. "Harsh, Mom."

  "But it had to be said and no one else is saying it. Now take this pie with you and drive safe."

  Clara took the boxed pie from her mother and settled it on the floor of the truck. When she righted herself, her father, brother and sister had moved to the porch and they waved to her. She gave them a sullen wave back. Then, because they didn't deserve that, she attempted a smile.

  "See? Happy," she said as she bared her teeth.

  "Fabulous,” Mom replied flatly. “I'm going to find a way of making your eyes smile too. You're not fooling anyone."

  "Good bye, Mom." With a flutter of sprayed gravel, Clara trundled along the lane, turned onto the road and pointed the truck towards home, her sanctuary.

  The farm was the product of both her and Colton scrimping and saving to buy the land and then build the house that should have been their forever home. The place they would raise their family eventually. Isolated in raw wilderness a few miles outside of town it was perfect for the evenings when they shifted to their wolf selves and took off, racing through the woods right down to the lake. Far away from human eyes, they could fully embrace their natures, something they hoped to open up to their community, creating a safe haven for every lycan or shifter in the area.

  There was still a lot of work to be done. The house wasn't quite finished, the barn not fully converted for use, and the fencing patchy. No matter how hard she worked, the end goal seemed far in the distance, but hard work wouldn't stop her. Wearing herself out thoroughly by hard physical labor was the only way she could sleep. Plus with the financing of the farm becoming an issue, she didn't have a lot of choice but to do most of the work herself, even if it took her twice as long as a big, strapping farm hand.

  But she would never fail Colton's memory by giving up and selling it. It was the thing that tied his memory to her forever and she would never stop trying to honor that.

  ***

  "Do you think, maybe, you were too hard on her?" Tom asked his wife as she stepped back on the porch and under his arm. Together they watched Clara's truck retreating into the distance long after their other two children went inside to clear the remains of their dinner.

  "No. I wish I'd said it sooner. It's time we all stopped treating her like she’s made of glass and got her back into the world." Rose might be a foot smaller than her husband, but she'd grown up in a family of six siblings and raised three children of her own. She knew her own mind and her caring nature ensured she had a lot of empathy for her family. Her baby was hurting, and it killed them all to watch, but she knew now that she could stop it, and she knew exactly how. Unfortunately she also knew Clara wouldn't like it, which w
as why she'd hesitated these past few months from picking up the phone even though she’d really wanted to on the darkest days when she couldn’t do anything but fret for her daughter.

  "She's got a lot to deal with," said Tom, reasonably. With Colton’s passing, their own mortality had been the source of several long discussions. Neither could imagine losing the other.

  "I know. Problem is she isn't dealing with it," Rose replied with a sad shake of her head. "She's hoping that one day she's going to wake up and this will all be a bad dream. Except it isn't. It's horrible and unfair and cruel that she lost her husband but she has to deal with it."

  "We can't force her."

  "We can't, but I know someone who can." Rose turned on her heel and marched inside, striding past the detritus on the dining table—her older son still clearing away while their second daughter took charge of rinsing—to the cordless phone in the small study off the kitchen. Grabbing it, she stabbed in the number she knew by heart with her forefinger, almost holding her breath as she waited while it rang.

  "Hello?" The male voice flooded the phone and Rose broke into a smile.

  "Hi there, Cade. This is Rose, Clara's mother," she said, like he wouldn't guess.

  "I'd know your voice anywhere, Rose. How are you?" Warmth suffused his voice. "How's the family?"

  Rose shook her head. Never 'How's Clara?' Always, 'the family'. Silly man. Why couldn't he just say what he meant? "They're all well, thank you for asking. And you?"

  "All's good here."

  "Glad to hear it. Now, let's get down to business,” Rose continued, all business with the pleasantries out the way. “I need to ask you a favor and I'll make myself clear, I don't want to hear a no. I need your help."

  "What's wrong?" Cade’s voice turned worried at her take-no-attitude approach. "What can I do?"

  "It's Clara, actually."

  There was a long pause before he answered slowly, "Is she okay?"

  "No, she isn't and you and I both know that."