Logan's POV
I know my mom misses me. I miss her too.
Still, I wait until later in the day to visit her.
It's not like I'm avoiding her—I just need to mentally prepare myself for the whirlwind of chaos that always comes with walking through the front door of the Wynwood Pack's main house.
Parking my rental car in front of the sprawling house feels like stepping back in time. The place hasn't changed a bit—the white walls gleam in the sun, the wide porch is dotted with rocking chairs, and the faint sound of kids laughing carries on the humid breeze.
Fenrir perks up in my chest, his ears twitching. Home, he murmurs, the word thick with emotion.
"Yeah," I mutter under my breath. "We're home."
The Big House was always alive with activity, full of pack members coming and going. Some of my best memories were made here—playing hide and seek with the other kids in the endless halls, sneaking cookies from the kitchen when my mom wasn't looking, and sprawling in the backyard during cookouts and lunar celebrations.
Most of all, I remember waking up to the smell of my mom's cooking and her soft voice telling me to get my lazy butt out of bed. She'd sneak me extra pastries when no one was looking, wiping powdered sugar off my face with a fond smile.
I groan, leaning back against the car seat. She's going to kill me.
There's no way the guards at the gate didn't tell their Luna I was around. She knows I'm here. She's probably waiting for me with a wooden spoon in hand.
Fenrir huffs, amused. Better to face her now.
He's right. I can't keep dawdling. I step out of the car and walk up to the house. The moment I open the door, a group of kids comes barreling past me, laughing and shouting. I dodge out of the way, grinning despite myself. Some things never change.
The smell of freshly baked cookies hits me before I even reach the kitchen. My stomach growls, and Fenrir rumbles in satisfaction.
I follow my nose and find my mother standing at the counter, pulling a batch of cookies out of the oven. She's wearing her favorite apron—the one with the frayed edges—and humming to herself.
"They told me you were coming," she says without turning around.
My throat tightens. "Hi, Mama."
She sets the tray down, pulls off her oven mitts, and turns to me. Her face lights up with a smile that feels like home. "Lolo, my sweet boy."
She strides over and wraps me in a hug, and I sink into it, holding her just as tightly.
"I missed you," I murmur into her hair.
She pulls back just enough to smack my chest. "Then why don't you call?"
I wince, but she's already on a roll. "Aye, you carry a cub in your womb and raise him into a fine young man, but does he call his aging mum? No! Does he visit? No!"
"Aging?" I interrupt, giving her my most charming smile. "Mama, how can I believe that when you always look so young and radiant?"
She smacks me again, though there's no real heat behind it. "Your tongue is as sweet as your father's, but don't think I'm not still mad at you!" She points a finger at me. "You know how worried I get! I have to get updates about your life from those strange social media videos with the loud music. Why do they call you a 'chad,' and what does it mean to 'mog' people?"
I snort out a laugh, shaking my head. "You really should get off the internet, Mama."
She smiles, the corners of her eyes crinkling. "Have to keep up with the youngins somehow." Her gaze softens as she cups my cheeks. "I'm glad to see you're well, Lolo. Have you been sleeping right? Have you eaten?"
"I'm fine, Ma," I reply, holding her hands.
"Good," she says, patting my cheek before turning back to her work. "Your dad's still at work—you know how that man is. But your brother should be home soon. I'll get started on dinner in a minute. You're staying, right?"
I hadn't planned on staying, but the look she gives me makes it clear I don't have a choice. "Yes, ma'am."
"Good. Now, if only Roman would—"
The door bursts open, cutting her off. My older brother Rowan strides in, grinning like he owns the place.
"Alpha Logan!" he chants, clapping five times in rhythm. "Alpha Logan!"
"Speak of the devil," my mom mutters, exasperated.
Trailing behind Rowan is his pregnant mate, Astrid, and their four-year-old daughter, Lila. "Oh, hey Logan!" Astrid greets, noticing me.
"Uncle Lolo!" Lila squeals, running to hug my legs.
I scoop her up, grinning. "Hey, munchkin. You've gotten so big!"
"Why don't you visit anymore?" she asks, her big eyes wide and accusing.
Before I can answer, Rowan slings an arm around my neck, pulling me into a headlock. "Yeah, Logan. Why don't you visit anymore?"
I glare at him. He knows exactly why I haven't been around.
"Rowan," Astrid warns, and he releases me with a smirk.
I set Lila down and ruffle her hair. "Uncle Logan's been busy, munchkin. But you've been getting the gifts I send, right?"
She nods, her pout replaced with a smile. "Yeah! The unicorn stuffie is my favorite!"
Astrid steps in, taking Lila's hand. "Okay, time to let go of Uncle Logan. It's bath time."
Lila groans dejectedly. She hates bath time. Still, her puppy dog eyes turn to me. "Will you tuck me in later?" She asks.
I was planning to make my escape after dinner, but her hopeful expression pins me in place. "Sure."
"Yay!" she cheers, allowing her mom to carry her off.
As Astrid carries Lila away, Rowan stops her, sliding an arm around her waist and pulling her closer. "Hey, I'll be going for a little run with Logan," he says casually.
I arch a brow. "A run?"
Rowan grins, that mischievous glint in his eye that I know all too well. "Come on, is Logan 'The Lightning' Whitaker scared of a little race?"
The challenge sparks something in me, the competitive edge that's impossible to ignore. Fenrir snarls. He loves a good challenge too but I'm exhausted. I groan, rubbing the back of my neck. "I hate that nickname."
Mum chuckles, carrying a jar past us. "It fits you, though."
Rowan isn't letting up. "Come on, Dad always said a nice evening run makes dinner more enjoyable."
"Your dad only says that because he thinks he's too clumsy to help in the kitchen," Mom retorts, rolling her eyes but smiling all the same.
Astrid laughs softly at that, shifting Lila higher on her hip. She turns to Rowan, leaning in to press a kiss to his lips. "Be safe," she murmurs.
"Always," he replies, his voice low and full of that quiet affection that only makes my chest ache harder.
For a moment, I just stand there, watching them. This is what I could've had if I hadn't ruined everything. A mate. A family. Quiet domesticity and the kind of love that feels steady and unshakable.
Astrid pulls away, giving me a small smile before disappearing into the house with Lila. Rowan, however, spins back to me with a gleam in his eye.
"So, we're running, right?" he presses.
I roll my eyes, knowing there's no way I'm getting out of this. "Fine."
Rowan whoops. "Yes! Let me change real quick." He disappears into the house, leaving me alone with my mom again.
I shake my head. "And that dummy is our next Alpha. I almost forgot how busy it gets here."
She smiles, a hint of fondness in her voice. "Never a dull moment."
Her tone shifts, gentler. "I heard you're back with the Coyotes."
"Yeah," I say, rubbing the back of my neck. "Finalized the paperwork today."
She hums, her expression unreadable. "And I suppose you've met with the coach."
My stomach twists. "Yeah…"
"All right then," she says simply. "Tell me about your next games. Your dad and I want to be there."
Her calm response catches me off guard. "Aren't you going to remind me how stupid I am for leaving?"
She sighs, her gaze softening. "There's no point, Lolo. You already know."
Her words hit harder than any reprimand. Before I can respond, Rowan's voice echoes from inside.
"Who's ready to lose?"
Home sweet home.