Chapter Text
Lawrence, Kansas.
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“Mom?”
“In here, Dean,” his mother replied.
Dean strolled through to the rear of the house, where his mother had carved out a pocket-sized office for herself.
She and John had always talked of moving to a larger home after Sam was born, but they’d come to love this place even if the space was limited. And they’d kept putting it off..
Now that Sam was at Stanford, there was no longer any urgency to move, and although Dean was still living with them, Mary was certain her eldest would soon fly the nest.
He’d been saving to put down a mortgage on a place of his own. She and John had offered to contribute, but Dean had refused. He’d always been proud and independent when it came to accepting cash from his parents.
She lifted her eyes from the computer as he barged into the room.
She smiled. He was like his dad, so full of verve and vitality that he brought a surge of energy wherever he went.
“How’s the book coming along?“ Dean asked, flopping down on a nearby chair.
“Writing is a hard slog,” she sighed, “but it’s shaping up okay. I hope my editor agrees.”
“Well, he drooled over your last book,” Dean declared with a mischievous grin. “What’s not to like about werewolves ripping out your heart after animalistic rough sex?”
Mary rolled her eyes. “Aren’t you embellishing that a little bit, Dean? You haven’t even read it.”
“Sam’s the book boy in this family, though I doubt werewolves are his go-to reading material. Maybe if the werewolves were studying law, “ he quipped.
“I’m just off the phone with him,” Dean continued. “He’s got an interview on Monday for Law School. I’m taking a couple of days off from work next weekend. Going down to Palo Alto to see the geek. We’re gonna have to celebrate once he passes the interview.”
“Aren’t you counting Sam’s chickens before they’re hatched?” Mary observed. “An interview could go either way.”
“Nope,” Dean replied. “Sam will nail it like he always does.”
He pushed off the chair and made for the door. “Gotta go, Mom. Jenny’s waiting for me.”
“Then go. I wouldn’t want her to be annoyed with you. She’s such a sweet girl.”
Dean rolled his eyes. Sweet was the last adjective he’d have used. Sexy and hot were miles better. A frisson of arousal swept through him as he recalled their previous encounter. Not only was she gorgeous, but so…so… talented!
With a shake of the head, Mary lowered her eyes to the screen. Dean was incorrigible when it came to the female sex. Not that it was his fault if girls literally threw themselves at him. The disadvantages of being too handsome, she chuckled.
Her sons were completely different from one another, yet there was no doubt they shared a strong bond. Dean was proud of his geeky little brother, and Sam idolized his go-get-‘em big brother.
She lowered her eyes to the screen. She'd been so lucky in her marriage. Her husband and kids adored her. She couldn’t have asked for more.
However, since the children had grown older, she'd found herself with free time on her hands.
She'd considered looking for a job, but John was making good money now with his half-stake in the auto repair shop, and even if extra cash could always come in handy, there was no urgency.
Browsing the internet, she came across a tutorial video that caught her attention. It was an introduction to writing. Whether it was the way the video was presented or if she possessed an unacknowledged writing aptitude, she had been drawn into giving it a go.
To her surprise, she discovered she did have a creative streak. When she submitted her first manuscript to a publisher, she had done it almost as a joke, egged on by John, who had encouraged her.
“Mary. There’s nothing you can’t do if you turn your hand to it. I bet the publisher will love it. How about a small bet to make things interesting? If the book’s accepted, then I get extra marital privileges for a whole month. “
Mary had rolled her eyes at the smug expression on his face. “Extra marital privileges? I thought you were already fully paid up there, Cowboy!
“There’s always room for more,“ he’d grinned, crushing his lips to hers in a passionate kiss.
Her first book, “Dark of the Moon,” had been an unexpected success, and John had cashed in his extramarital privileges.
They had taken a week off and flown down to Miami for full immersion in sand, sun, and hot sex.
John was a passionate lover.
Tall, handsome, and intense. He still knew how to press her buttons even after almost thirty years of marriage.
What she didn’t acknowledge to herself, having all but eradicated it from her memories, was that if things had gone differently, her husband would have died years ago.
The past, however, has a strange habit of representing itself.
A couple of days later, on the second of November, in the middle of the night, Dean burst unceremoniously into his parents’ bedroom, his phone clasped in his hand, an expression of horror on his face.
“Jessica is dead,” he stated in disbelief. “Seems she died in a fire. Sam is beside himself. He seemed almost hysterical on the phone. I’m going down to Palo Alto. Sam will need me. You know how he gets sometimes.”
“Dean, what are you saying? How is that possible? Where is Sam? Is he okay?” Mary asked, striving to make sense of what Dean was telling them.
“I don’t know the details. Sam was too distraught to elaborate. Listen, I’m driving to the airport. That way I’ll have a better chance at getting a canceled plane seat.”
“We should come too,” John said, as horrified as his wife at the news. “Sam will need all the consolation he can get. He was head over heels in love with Jessica.”
Dean shook his head. “It's better if I go first. See what’s happened. Then if Sam wants you to come, I’ll get back to you. There’s no point in the three of us going all the way down to San Francisco until we know more.”
With that, Dean exited the room
Not long after, the car’s engine could be heard as, with a squeal of tires, it roared off.
Mary pushed back the covers and went to the window, the vehicle's rear lights still visible in the distance.
In that moment, it was as if a cold hand squeezed her heart, and the memories she'd tried so hard to forget came flooding back.
TBC