Page 11

Stacy

I wake up beside the beautiful silver wolf who’s on the bed beside me, his head at the foot of the bed. His eyes are closed and he smells incredible. This entire home smells like it’s been infused with that smoky, sugary forest scent of his.

Strange emotions work through me as I look at him and wonder why he’s in his wolf shape. I feel the urge to shift, too, so we can be together in the same form.

Odd how after just hours I know there’s a connection forming. But I guess it’s not odd to him, since he’s anticipated the mating bond his whole life.

I don’t know when I started hearing it wasn’t real. Probably shortly after age six, which was when I moved in with Father and Wyatt and had to relearn life according to their complex rules instead of according to the simple rules my grandparents had. I no longer remember much about my life before six, just that I lived with my dead mother’s parents in a cute, clean little cottage that smelled like cookies and only saw Father when he was on his dais during pack meetings. Wyatt sold the land that cottage was on a few years ago when he severed part of our village.

I know it was the happy part of my childhood – when I lived with them. My mother died when I was a baby. Wyatt told me when we were kids that she tried to run away and he saw her get run over by a car.

I know it was hard, beyond hard, to not have them anymore. Life was very different once I moved in with Father. And thinking on it now while considering the memory I had when Greyson purred for me, I’m wondering if I eventually blocked out many of those early memories of our pack when it was different because I had to do so in order to come to grips with my new reality without the two people I loved most.

Was my grandfather a retired alpha from another pack? He purred, so he must have been.

I’ve often believed, though never said it aloud, that if not for those first few formative years being cared for by my mother’s parents, people who actually cared, I’d probably be a lot more like Wyatt. Neither of us had our respective mothers for very long after being born. What we come from wasn’t a family, wasn’t healthy. It wasn’t remotely right.

One of my earliest memories of Wyatt is when I moved in with Father and him and wandered outside to see if he wanted to play like I’d always done in my grandparents’ garden. He was using a slingshot to try to ping rocks off old, rusted cans. He kept missing and getting angry about it. He wouldn’t let me have a turn, so I told him I’d go find some flowers to pick for the dining table. He told me flowers don’t grow in a junkyard and when he later found me on my knees in the dirt, sniffing red lilies I’d found growing along a path behind the garage, he stomped on them, repeating that “flowers don’t grow here ”.

Yeah, a junkyard was no place for flowers. Or for a little girl to grow up.

I brush away those old thoughts.

Can I make sure the cycle is broken? It’s what I’ve always wanted. And with Greyson it might even be probable rather than just possible. If Wyatt doesn’t ruin it. If Greyson doesn’t decide against it after learning the whole truth about who I am and what I come from. I don’t know if I can bear him children. And if I could, would they be okay? How would he feel about me and where I come from? How would I feel if he had to cast me aside so that he could have healthy children with someone else? Already this thought is too painful to even ponder. I remember the look in Emma’s eyes when she escorted me to her room to give my virginity to her alpha husband because she couldn’t have children. If I’d become pregnant, that baby would’ve been given to them. I wasn’t able to and as much as Emma was kind to me and I wished she could be a mother like she wanted, I couldn’t help but feel relief that I wasn’t about to have a baby only to have it torn from my breast to be given to someone else.

I shake those old thoughts off.

It’s somewhere near noon and I never sleep this late; usually wake with the sun. Then again, I’ve never had a day like yesterday or a night like I had last night. A morning like I had early this morning soon after dawn broke when Greyson did all those incredible things to my body.

My mind swims with thoughts. A swirl of them including worry about what happened when I didn’t turn up at the motel last night.

But first things first. A toilet.

I swing my legs off the side of the bed feeling a little stiff and sore and a lot in need of the bathroom. I get to my feet and immediately, Greyson shifts to human shape, moving to stand at the foot of the bed. He’s sprung into action as if there’s a problem.

He looks disoriented, but ready to fight. And there’s a strange pulse of anxiety inside me. I think I’m feeling his emotions!

Suddenly, as his face relaxes, it feels like the panic just switches off.

“Hi,” I whisper, feeling shy.

“Good morning,” he says, his dark eyes moving from my face on a slow journey down my nude body and then back up again before flashing silver. He adds in a huskier tone, “Wife.”

Oh my stars.

Before I can form a thought that might lead to a reply, he wraps his arms around me and pulls me to his equally nude body. “What are you doin’?” he asks.

I feel his erection say good morning to me as well and heat swoops through my lower belly at the knowledge of what he can do with it. How strange to be affected like this by a male’s appendage.

“I need the bathroom,” I tell him.

He takes my face into both hands. He likes eye contact.

“Sleep good?”

A smile tugs at the corners of my mouth, but heat creeps up my face. “Your bed is very comfortable. Thank you.”

The most comfortable bed I’ve ever slept in. My mattress is ancient. I have three pieces of foam on it that do little to stop me from feeling the lumps. I thought the motel bed was markedly better, but it was nothing compared to the cloud-like feeling of sleeping in Greyson’s bed.

He’s still holding my face in a sweet way, still smiling at me. And I know I slept well for more reasons than the comfortable bed.

I cross one ankle over the other and ask my bladder to wait.

He looks down at my feet briefly before his eyes bounce to my face and he releases me with a look of humor. “Go ahead. You like coffee? Tea? Some juice?”

“Whatever you want to share with me would be wonderful,” I answer.

“See you down there. We’ll rustle up something to eat, too. We’re gonna need to get a real good feed in.”

“A good feed?” I ask.

“Build our strength.”

My eyebrows furrow and I’m about to ask why when I realize why . More sex.

He smiles wide and then kisses me quickly. He’s got a lot of humor sparkling in his eyes. “You’ll see.”

I never would’ve thought a kiss from a male wouldn’t repulse me. I never thought a look punctuated by innuendo could excite me. But I’d let Greyson Blackwood kiss me all day long. And the things he did to my body? He can do more of that, too. I hope he does more of that soon.

Heat slides through me at the vivid memories of his mouth. His fingers. And his other parts. How different things were with him compared to what I’m accustomed to. Even in that old position I was used to. With Greyson it was so different. So… something else entirely.

He shoots a look over his shoulder as he reaches into a drawer on the tall dresser by the bathroom. “I feel you get my meaning, Blossom. And it feels good. Smells good, too.” He pulls out a pair of black jogging pants and gets them on while eyeing me with a very attractive look in his eyes. It dawns that he can smell that I’m now aroused. It's slick between my legs and I’m feeling slightly embarrassed by it. This never happens. In fact, I’ve been bullied about the fact that it doesn’t.

“And while you’re breathtaking in your birthday suit, gonna be a scorcher today, so I’ll put the air on. You can throw a shirt of mine on if you want. We can throw your clothes into the washer since they reek of gunpowder. Anyway, we’ll talk at breakfast about a couple things, including making a plan to get your gear.”

My expression drops.

He tips his head to the side in an assessing way, but he says nothing. The inquisition about my life, my motives and all that… it’ll continue. And of course it has to. Greyson needs to protect his pack from threats – that’s what a normal alpha does. I just don’t quite know how to explain everything in a way that won’t cause further damage. I want to protect my people. I also don’t want any harm to come to Greyson’s people. Because if things don’t fall apart here, they’ll be my people, too.

If they can forgive me. If they don’t interfere and take a vote among those other alphas to punish me for what I’ve done.

My belly bottoms out. I can’t imagine why they’d let me stay.

I know they have a committee and although the men I met yesterday at the doorway to where the cell was had objected to me leaving, they moved out of the way and let us pass. But what if they took a vote about all this since then? What if they punish him or give him orders about punishing me because they all agree that I can’t be here after my actions?

I don’t know enough about this pack yet to know how they’ll react to the threat, how they make pack decisions, but I do know they rule together so just because Greyson wants me doesn’t mean they won’t have a problem with this. I also don’t know what they’d do if they knew about my brother’s plans, but I know what my brother would do and while I know Wyatt’s leadership style is wrong, that doesn’t mean this pack won’t also react swiftly and severely.

I’m worried about what could happen to everyone who’s vulnerable. I wish Greyson scented me as his mate before I followed Wyatt’s orders. If only I hadn’t hidden my scent. What if he’d scented me in the diner that day? I wish I could undo the damage I’ve already done here. I wish I’d gone to them and told them about my brother and asked for their assistance. If only I’d known then what I know now. Hindsight tends to be 20/20, I guess.

Speaking of damage, I move into the bathroom worrying about the damage that might be happening now at home if Wyatt loses his temper at my disappearance and takes it out on everyone I’ve tried so hard to protect.

***

My jaw drops when I see the vast, modern kitchen. I didn’t think it was possible for this home to wow me more than I’d already been wowed, but the best was saved for last because this kitchen is a dream I never even dared to dream.

If this somehow works out, this could be where I’ll get to cook. Cook meals for Greyson.

A smile tugs at my mouth as I take it all in and run my hand along the expansive white countertop. So much space to cook, to bake! There’s a backdrop of shiny gray tiled backsplash and the floor matches. In addition to expensive-looking and shiny counters around the perimeter of the kitchen, there’s a huge island that’s white on top, green on the sides with dual-toned wood and green stools in front of it. I spot a double oven on the wall and a six-burner stovetop on one counter. Brass pendant lights hang over the island and pot lighting dots the ceiling. The drawer and door pulls are brass and there’s a massive farmhouse sink with a golden tap that I can see pulls out to act as a spray nozzle. The fridge takes up most of a wall with brushed steel doors and brass handles.

It’s lovely. Absolutely lovely. There are some dirty dishes in the sink and the stovetop could use a scrubbing. The floor needs a sweep and wash, and I can’t wait to play in it. Clean it. Create in it. I could see myself spending most of my time in a dream kitchen like this. This kitchen alone is probably the size of my entire home back in Silver Hills. And I share that with Aunt Shea, Addy, Misty, and Halla.

“Oh my stars,” I whisper to Greyson because he’s watching me, taking in my reaction with what I think is happiness. “It’s like it’s out of a magazine.”

And then guilt settles because I’ve got so much to be concerned about right now. I shouldn’t be waxing on about this house.

“Yeah?” Greyson asks, smiling wide before turning his attention to the beeping announcement that the coffee is ready.

He pours coffee into two big, fabulous red ceramic mugs with a weaved knit-like pattern on them. “Glad you like it. I need to clean it, the whole place could use a cleaning, but I didn’t know I’d have company for the rest of my life starting yesterday or I’d have made sure it was perfect for you.”

Emotion clogs my throat. How sweet is he? I’m not used to this. I don’t quite know how to react to it. I resist the urge to offer to clean it. To ask if I can. Because I want to clean this house, do so while basking in fantasies about what could be. Yeah, that could certainly distract me from my problems.

“You like coffee?” he asks.

“Sure,” I manage, though it comes out sounding a little choked.

“Love seeing you in my shirt, babe,” he tells me and kisses me again.

“Thank you for letting me borrow it,” I reply, shyly.

“What’s mine is yours,” he responds. “I mean that.”

I force a swallow down. Because he seems like he means it. And it’s a pretty amazing thing to hear. Sadly, I bring absolutely nothing to the table with this mating. No. Wait. I do bring things to the table. Things no one wants. Problems. Bad genes. A psychotic and power-hungry brother who wants to take everything that’s his.

Greyson opens the fridge and freezer doors at the same time and asks, “What do you feel like eating?”

“I’m not fussy,” I reply softly, staring in with him.

I am pretty hungry. I didn’t eat anything yesterday.

“What’ve we got here?” He drums his fingers on the doors as he holds them open. “Half box of frozen waffles. Got some cereal in the pantry over there.” He gestures to a door I see leads to a small walk-in scullery or butler’s pantry. The door is open and the shelves are full of food.

I’ve never seen one of these in a home before. The walk-in pantry alone looks even nicer and larger than my kitchen back in Silver Hills. There’s a sink and a microwave in there and more counter space along with some kitchen appliance shelves that are mostly empty, but perfect for things like slow cookers, stand-up mixers, pressure cookers, and so on.

“Got some bread if you want toast. Wonder what time my family’s droppin’ off all the…”

He stops talking mid-sentence, his nostrils flaring. I take a whiff and catch the faint new scent in the air.

“Good timing. Meet some of the family just quickly.” He grabs my hand and moves us toward the door.

My heartrate jumps as I’m self-conscious about my appearance, among other things. I’m sure these people will know I shot their long-lost loved alpha yesterday.

“Gonna be okay, babe, trust me,” he assures, putting his arm around me comfortingly as he reaches for the doorknob. I want to believe that, but I can’t halt the rush of anxiety.

In addition to wondering what they think of me after what I’ve done, I’ve also got bedhead and I’m only wearing a light green on dark green checkerboard button-down shirt of Greyson’s that comes to my thighs, along with a pair of thick men’s wool work socks that go nearly to my knees.

My small wardrobe of clothes is quite abysmal, second-hand and ready for the trash pile, so I’ve always felt self-conscious around anyone outside the pack who, it felt like, looked at me like they could smell the stench of my poverty. I’m not unaccustomed to being nude in the company of other shifters, it has never bothered me as it was an equalizer of sorts, but wearing clothing has always felt like it put me at a disadvantage outside our pack where people were better dressed than me.

I liked my diner uniform. It served as a disguise for more than one purpose, and I felt safe in it. I knew what people would want and expect of me while in that uniform.

He opens the door to two women. One of them looks around my age. She has long, sandy brown hair and wears glasses. She’s in denim shorts and a pink t-shirt with frills around the neck, sleeves, and hem. Gladiator sandals. Her toenails are painted a glimmery peach as are her fingernails. Her smiling lips are full and glossy. She’s setting a plastic basket filled with groceries on the step. She’s fresh-faced, curvy, smiling. The top of her hair is pulled into a few twists held back by bejeweled hair pins. Oddly, she smells like a shifter and a human at the same time. The other woman looks a lot like her but probably twenty-odd years older, and she’s human but carrying the fragrance of an alpha on top of her own. An alpha that smells similar to Greyson – his family member? The older of the two carries a crate over from a white car. My eyes bounce between them, and it occurs to me that the younger is related to Greyson. And the scent of the older one? I’m confused.

“Mornin’ you two,” Greyson greets while his thumb moves back and forth over my shoulder.

Surprisingly, his warmth is somewhat steadying for my heart, my breathing.

“We were trying to get out of here without bothering you. Hello!” the human lady greets as she holds out the cardboard crate filled with containers of delicious-smelling food. There are already two plastic baskets filled with food supplies on the front step. Enough food supplies to feed a family for more than a few weeks, by the looks of it.

Greyson lets go of me and relieves her of the tray.

“Mom, Bailey, this is Stacy. Stace, Carrie is my stepmom, the only mother I remember, which is why your nose is twitching with confusion. Bailey is my sister.”

I halt my nose and as both women smile, do my best to smile back. Carrie reaches for and hugs me. And it feels strange, because I’m not a touchy-feely type, would never have imagined being hugged by a human, but… it’s actually quite nice.

Bailey then does the same and in my ear she says, “Welcome to the family. I’ve been waiting a long time to have a sister.”

And now I feel thrown off. I look at her smiling face and say, “Me, too.”

Not that it’s true. I never thought I’d ever have a sister. I have friends who are like sisters though, in the pack, but the only way I’d expect to think of someone as a sister is if I thought Wyatt would pair up with just one woman and that’s just…unfathomable.

She smiles wider. “Well, yay then.”

“Yay,” I parrot weakly, feeling like my face is aflame.

Maybe they haven’t heard the news about who I am and how I came to be here. When they do though, they’re probably going to give me the cold shoulder. Or worse.

“I’m half-shifter, but I don’t shift,” Bailey explains. ”Do have a shifter’s nose, though.” She twitches her nose. “A strong one. And I’m also the resident librarian and historian. I’ll need your backstory so I can add information to our records. I’ve been working on a massive genealogy project.” She smiles. “And I handle our pack’s records for the global shifter archives and census.”

I try to keep smiling, unsure of what to say, but I’m pondering the notion of global shifter archives. Wyatt would never cooperate in providing any information about our pack to outsiders. If he received census forms since he took over, I’ve never seen them. Though I did see those old records once.

Sharing inside information would be unthinkable to him. A punishable crime if any of us filled out those forms. But if this archive is thorough, I wonder if it would have old information about our pack, the pack we used to be, the people that used to belong to it, including my immediate family. I’d like to see those records. Though I’m afraid to see them as much as I’d love to know, once and for all, what’s there.

The awkward silence is broken by Greyson clearing his throat.

Bailey’s eyes hit his face and then she straightens up. “But of course that can wait until whenever you two surface.”

“It’s… great to meet you both,” I say, grateful she’s not about to question me right now.

“Thanks for the grub. Good timing, but time to go,” Greyson says.

“I made several meals there,” Carrie says, gesturing, “But I also sent groceries. Grey doesn’t cook other than typical bachelor meals, but I wasn’t sure if you did. If you don’t, could send more meals over.”

“I cook,” I tell her.

“Oh good,” Bailey says, “So you’ll appreciate the kitchen then. Nice, right?”

“It’s…it’s beyond my wildest dreams,” I answer.

Bailey smiles wider. “I don’t cook. Mom has tried to teach me but I’m a disaster in the kitchen. Even still, I helped decorate the house thinking of the touches I’d want if it were my place.”

“You did really well,” I tell her. “I love everything about it.”

Greyson touches his lips to the side of my head, so I look up at his face and he’s got a big smile on it. “You like to cook?” he checks.

I nod.

“Any good at it?”

“People seem to like what I cook,” I tell him. “I wanted to be a chef when I grew up.”

“But you haven’t had the chance?” he asks.

I shake my head.

His eyes search mine as he replies, “Cook all you want for me, wife.”

“Okay,” I whisper, trying hard to maintain eye contact. He seems to like it, but it’s so odd to stare directly at an alpha’s face like this.

There’s loaded silence for a beat when Greyson turns to his smiling family. “Time to go. As you can see, we still need to get to know one another. Thanks again for the food. See you later.”

“Can’t wait,” Carrie says, beaming. “Tell us when you’re ready for us to do a family dinner. Congratulations, you two.”

“Sounds good, Thanks,” Greyson says and drops a kiss on her cheek.

“It was nice to meet you,” I say with a wave at the departing women.

I grab a big basket of food and follow him inside.

“You wanna go through that while I grab the rest?” he asks. “See if there’s somethin’ already done we can have for breakfast, maybe?”

“Sure,” I say, astounded at not only the amount of food his mom and sister sent for us but also at how much food is already here. His pantry is well-stocked with canned and dry goods as well as spices. His fridge has fruits and a few vegetables as well as convenience foods. His freezer has more convenience foods than proper ingredients, but the food his mother and sister sent must be worth hundreds of dollars. The kitchen was already stocked, and now it’s at a disaster preparedness level. This isn’t something I’m remotely used to.

I look at the already cooked meals. There’s a pasta dish covered in cheese with chunks of chicken and broccoli. A pot roast with a bunch of vegetables in it. There’s a container marked chicken pot pie with baking directions on a Post-It, and there’s a roasted chicken with more dishes of warm vegetables. In addition to that, there are groceries to make more meals. I don’t know that I’ve ever seen this much food in one place other than working at the restaurant. And it’s not that late in the day, so this tells me Greyson’s human stepmom was cooking all morning for us, likely before the sun woke. Wow. Such generosity.

I think about the people back home, how they’d feel about this amount of food. I felt guilty about the meal I got to eat for free each shift while working at the diner, being allowed to pick anything I wanted each day for that meal, but access to this much food is just… foreign.

Greyson comes in with even more food. And bathroom supplies.

“Girl stuff for you,” he says, setting one of the plastic baskets on the island. I look at it and see shampoo, conditioner, bodywash, pink razors, a bath puff, a hairbrush and toothbrush, also a pack of hair ties as well as a big container of pink bubble bath along with a bag from the small department store near the diner.

I peer into the shopping bag. Clothes. Makeup. There’s an expensive-looking makeup palette. I don’t know how to use this.

My sinuses burn and tears threaten.

“Bailey shopped for the food and stuff while Mom cooked. She probably heard you didn’t have much gear with you.”

I pull the things out. There are two sets of yoga clothes, socks, a pack of five pairs of underwear, and a pair of comfortable-looking and cute pajamas.

He asks, “What’s wrong?”

My mouth opens and closes like a fish. In a matter of two seconds, he’s got his arms around me, and his eyes are searching my face questioningly.

“They-they’re both so nice,” I say, dissolving into a puddle of emotion.

“And that got you upset?” he asks.

I pull in oxygen and let it out slowly, nodding. “Because… the things I’ve done…”

“Shh.” He caresses my face. “We’ll talk about all that. Figure it out.”

“Maybe they don’t know yet and when they find out, they’ll stop being nice.”

“They already know. Believe me, my sister is the nosiest thing around. She’ll have gotten the scoop already. But don’t worry about that because though she wants to know it all, she’s not a know-it-all. You know?”

I try to smile.

He keeps talking. “My family knows you’re meant to be part of our family. You’re pack, Stace. And the pack looks after each other. Believe me, you’re not gonna have a problem with my sister or with Mom.”

“Oh,” I whisper.

“Just how fucked up is the pack you come from, sweetheart?”

“So very fucked up, Greyson,” I say, brokenly.

He gives me a sad expression and pulls me closer. “We’ll figure it out,” he says.

“Greyson,” I whisper.

“Yeah, babe?” he asks, looking into my eyes while gently dashing the tears away with his thumbs.

Is he real? Is this man really for me?

“Talk to me,” he requests.

My heart is racing. He wants to know my truth, but what will happen once I divulge it all?

I hide my face in his chest and continue crying.

“When did I become such a crybaby?” I ask instead of blurting everything on my mind.

“Maybe ‘cuz deep down you know you’re safe to let it out. And you can. I’ve got you. We’ll be okay,” he says.

I sniffle.

“You wanna talk about it?” he asks. “Lay it all on me? Tell me about how you got here, about why, about your pack?”

I exhale hard and rake my hands through my hair. “I don’t know where to start. I don’t know…” how to navigate this situation, how to minimize the damage to my pack, to Greyson’s pack.

I’ve left the sentence hanging, so he finally says, “We’ll have some food and then I’m gonna make you come on my knot. We’ll talk after that.”

I startle in surprise at his bluntness. At the fact that it doesn’t feel gross.

“New toy,” he quips and my eyes widen. “The knot I mean, not you. Who am I kidding? You too, if I’m honest.” His eyes twinkle with mischief. “Don’t worry, I take care of my toys.”

“Oh. Um. Okay.” Instead of feeling gross, he’s making my belly go whoosh .

His eyes are lit with amusement. “Okay,” he repeats, then adds, “Gonna need you to open up. I promise you’re safe to do it. But let’s have something to eat, spend some time together, and go from there. Yeah?”

Yeah, that sounds amazing. But what if Wyatt has already set more garbage in motion?

I pull my lips tight. He tips my chin up and his face is serious.

“Unless you have something to say now. Should I worry? Do we need to fortify ourselves for what might be next? Obviously, whoever put you up to all that isn’t gonna just give up.”

I frown. “I … don’t know. I mean, yeah but I don’t know?”

I sound like an idiot.

“Nobody’s about to come attack us? Nobody else about to get shot?”

“I don’t know what he has planned next. Honestly. Me not succeeding yesterday would probably mean he has to regroup.”

He stares at me for what feels like a long minute.

And my heart is beating too fast. Greyson needs answers. I don’t know what to tell him. I manage, “He’ll be wondering where I went.”

“Your former pack’s alpha?”

I nod.

“Okay, so we might have today?”

I shrug. “Maybe today. Maybe more than today. He’s a… wildcard. Not the type to have a plan B when plan A fails so I think he’ll need time to re-group. I just don’t know how fast he’ll act or what he’ll do.”

He looks troubled for a beat but then he looks like he’s decided on something. “First thing’s first. Fuel. How about we rustle us up some food? Show me your talents?”

“Well now that you’ve put me under pressure. Sheesh…” I mumble.

He smiles wider and it’s a beautiful sight. To be the woman who gets to make this man smile on a continuous basis? Could I be that lucky?

“And then I’ll show you some more of my talents,” he says, voice gravelly.

I jolt in surprise, feeling my face go even redder, but I manage, “Sounds like a fair trade…”

He reaches for my face and caresses it with his thumb, the rest of his fingers cradling my jaw.

“I’d love to spend today with you, getting to know you and keeping bullshit at bay for at least today. Think we can wait to deal with the shit till tomorrow?”

“Maybe?”

His eyes rove my face for a moment and although I would normally feel uncomfortable under scrutiny like this, I don’t this time.

“It’s settled,” he decides. “Today is for us. I’ll send a message to the council to keep their ears peeled. Noses alert. Meantime, we’ll spend time together and you’ll see you’re safe to open up.”

I chew my thumbnail nervously.

“And no pressure on the food. I’m a straightforward guy. Like hearty food. Cold beer. Like to exercise. Play some sports. Spend time on the lake fishing. Spend time in the lake fishing when I’m wolf. Simple pleasures. What do you like?”

“I like fishing. And target shooting. But… cooking. Cleaning. Um…” I don’t want to say waitressing, because that sounds really lame, but I don’t really know what else I like. I sound like I’m lamely trying to convince him I like domestic stuff but in truth, I do. I’ve dreamt about having a beautiful home to look after, a family to dote on.

“Well, good news then. Lots of food here to cook and I haven’t run the vacuum in a couple weeks. Glad I can make all your dreams come true, babe,” he jokes.

I laugh. “I’m actually very excited to clean this house.”

“Oh yeah?” he looks at me like I’m an alien but he’s also smiling.

“And bake. And… beyond cooking and cleaning, I don’t know what else I like to do because I haven’t had the opportunity to figure it out.”

“Well, you’ve got time now, Blossom.”

“I do like reading. Movies. I’ve always wanted to try to grow vegetables and flowers, but our land wasn’t very…fertile. Learn to play an instrument, maybe learn to sew clothes. ”

“My sister runs the library. You two will hit it off even faster since you like books. She runs four or five book clubs. You’ll undoubtedly fit into at least one of them. Pack has movie nights at the town hall nearly every weekend, too. And the land here is very fertile if you wanna grab a gardening book from the library and try and see if your thumbs are green. Mom has a sewing machine, and she can make just about anything. You ask her to teach you how to sew; I’m sure she’ll be over the moon about it.”

I stare in surprise. I have no idea how my luck changed like this. A pack that has a restaurant. Book clubs. Movie nights. A library! This is the pack we should be.

Wyatt is a threat to this. He could hurt Greyson and take this all away. And many of the Silver Hills people deserve so much more than what they have.

The idea of Wyatt threatening the way of life here bothers me a lot. But the idea that my pack could have a life like this? This is beyond my wildest imaginings. I need to try and give this to them. I just don’t know how I’m going to do that. I know Wyatt can’t be given the ability to take over this pack and this territory. He wouldn’t give all this to us so we could flourish, finally. No, he’d ruin it, turn it to charred rubble.

By now, Jimmy has undoubtedly been in touch to tell him I haven’t come back. If anyone is poking around near the perimeter of this village, maybe they’re catching Tyson Savage’s scent here. And mine.

The biggest questions and concerns are… what would Wy have done if I’d murdered Tyson Savage? And what’ll he do once he knows I haven’t?

***