Or maybe I was just his big brother.
“Don’t forget to clean behind your ears!” I called as my brother stumbled toward his shower.
“Yes,mother,” he retorted.
I couldn’t figure out if I hated that or not. While our father wasn’t a terrible man, not like some alphas could be, he wasn’t very… whimsical. He was matter-of-fact to a fault and had to put a great deal of pressure on all of us. We were, after all, at the top of the wolf hierarchy of the entire East Coast.
Our mother had been the artist, the fun one, the song in the morning, and the gentle kiss on the forehead at night. Losing her had been a blow none of us had anticipated. She’d barely entered her thirty-second year when she died giving birth to Jackson, something almost unheard of among wolf shifters. But even with all the medical and magical care that money could buy twenty-five years ago, nothing was able to save her.
Honestly, probably not the best time to think about that.
Instead, I busied myself spritzing my brother’s clothes with the right amount of cologne. A measured hand was required, considering the mix of humans and magical folks with sensitive noses at this event and the schools involved.
“All fresh?” I asked once my brother emerged from the shower, looking like a relatively sober member of society. Although I wasn’t exactly fond of Jack’s overconsumption of all sorts of illicit things, our wolf shifter nature prevented it from being permanently damaging—physically, at least. Socially? That was an entirely different matter.
“Yeah, yeah,” he said dismissively, throwing his wet towel at me.
I caught it and went to hang it up.
“Paul?”
“Yes?”
“Thank you. And I’m sorry. You shouldn’t have to nanny me like this. I promise I’m going to get my shit together.”
My brother had been making that promise since he’d turned twenty-one and moved off the VanMarche estate into his own place. Even though he hadn’t really managed to keep it so far, I still chose to treat him as if this time, he would.
“I believe you, Jack. And you know you have my support for anything you need in that goal.”
His voice was much softer when he responded, so soft that if I wasn’t a wolf as well, I wouldn’t have been able to hear him. “Thank you.”
I chose not to respond, because honestly, the moment didn’t need it. My youngest sibling knew I would be there for him no matter what, no matter how many times he messed up. I wouldn’t lie to his face and coddle him, but I wouldn’t shut him out like our father did either.
It wasn’t in my nature to turn my back on family.
I checked my emails while he got dressed, but as soon as he was in appropriate attire, I handed him his shoes and escorted him to the door.
Now, some might argue that my grown brother could handle calling an Uber by himself, but when we were halfway to our exit, he stopped and looked longingly at the kitchen.
“I don’t suppose there’s time to stop and tuck in for a little brekkie, is there?”
“Not a chance. If you wanted to fill your belly, then perhaps you shouldn’t have partied until four in the morning.” Again, supporting not coddling.
“I think it was more like six, actually.”
I rolled my eyes and shoved my brother forward. He went along with it, because in his heart, I think he liked knowing someone would help him stay within the lines when he needed. A few minutes later, he was sliding into the family car I’d ordered.
“And don’t forget to sign up for the Christmas Cookie list that was sent out. I’m not letting you mooch off me this year. You know Alexandria’s stuff is more popular than ever, and she bakes forallthree families, not just ours.”
“Yeah, yeah, I’ll answer the email.”
“See that you do. As for you, sir, do not stop until you have reached your destination,” I said to the driver as I shut the rear passenger door. “No matter how much he begs, no matter how much he bribes, and no matter how much his stomach rumbles, he is getting to this event on time. If he wants to stop for food, that can happen between the second and third school.”
“Understood, Mr. VanMarche.”
Nodding, I stepped back as the car pulled away.
Once, I would have insisted the driver call me by my full name, as having five Mr. VanMarches in a single family was quite confusing, but I’d long since gotten over it. Besides, my name was a bit of a joke. Paul VanMarche the Third? As far as I knew, there hadn’t been any Pauls before me. But when I had the nerve to be born as the third son on the third day of the thirdmonth right at three thirty-three p.m., my father had decided he had no other choice but to include that in my name. He always claimed it was auspicious, but honestly, I was pretty sure he just found it funny. While our alpha was on the emotionally crisp side, he did have a weird sense of humor.