Page 48

48

ZOEY

Cruising around to clear my head is difficult when I’m driving a stick shift and my right wrist is broken and my left ankle is bruised. After stalling out for the third time at a Stop sign, I turn the headlights toward home.

Well, Grandma Minnie’s cabin.

I don’t feel like I have a home anymore.

Warner started to take on the qualities of a home. When I was lost, I wanted to be where he was. When anxiety made my shoulders tense and my back ache, he was my comfort. When I hesitantly thought about the rest of my life, he was there.

Not anymore though.

When I pull up the drive, the house is lit up, the porch lights revealing my four brothers lounging in the rockers I’ve restored. Each one of them has a different instrument. They don’t seem to be playing—yet. When I shut off the engine and step out into the cool night, I catch a few experimental twangs.

Tuning up.

They’re all focused on their instruments until I step into the pool of porch light. Then, as if attached to the same puppet strings, each one tenses and leans forward.

“What’s wrong, Zoey?” asks Donovan.

“You’ve been crying.” Abram homes in on my face.

I brush fingers along the tops of my cheeks, finding that he’s correct. Bet my eyes are a puffy red mess.

“Was it Warner? Glitter or no, we’ll go fuck his shit up.” Carver is already standing, setting his fiddle to the side.

“Knew we were going to give him a beatdown at some point,” Byron says, as if compelled to add his voice to the barrage.

An uncomfortable wave of affection and resentment crashes over me.

I love my brothers. But sometimes, the only thing I need is for them to shut up.

“Just leave it alone,” I mutter, heading for the front door.

“Not going to happen. Tell us where he is.” Abram steps toward me, all menacing and tall. As if I would ever give in to his intimidation tactics.

Instead, my good hand slaps against his chest, attempting to shove him, but barely managing to make him rock.

“I don’t need you to fight for me. I’ve done a good job of breaking him all on my own.” I choke on the last bit and whirl toward the front door, hoping to make it to the bedroom before the inevitable flood of tears returns.

But my way is blocked.

“Mom?”

She stands there, tall and steady, blonde hair braided away from her face, a sad smile on her lips.

“Hi, sweetheart.”

The next thing I know, I’ve got my arms wrapped around her waist, and she’s hugging hard.

“I didn’t think you’d ever come back here.”

“For you, I’d walk naked through hell.” Her hold loosens, but only so her hands can pat over me, as if checking that each one of my limbs is still intact.

Despite being cracked in certain places, I’m still physically whole.

She heaves a sigh and steps back, dropping her arms to clutch my hands. “Let’s go inside and talk. You boys stay out here. I need time alone with your sister.”

They listen to Mom’s command without question. Twenty-seven years, and I still haven’t figured out a way to get them to follow my orders like that.

In their minds, I’m still a helpless preteen.

Inside the cabin, Mom puts on a pot of water to boil while I pack up the crafting supplies that litter half the table.

As she carries our mugs over, I can’t keep my mouth shut anymore.

“You came back.”

She smiles wide, but her eyes tense, as if she’s in pain. “Is that really so shocking?”

Even as she sets the tea down in front of me, I ignore it.

“It’s been almost a year since Minnie died. Plus all the time since you left. Did you ever visit?”

My mother, normally the bright star glittering at the center of whatever room she’s in, seems dim. She stares off to the side, eyes focused on nothing.

“No,” she murmurs.

“Well then”—I wrap my hands around the mug—“what changed your mind?”

Now, she looks at me. “I came for you.”

“Why? I mean, I know I got hurt, but it’s not like I’m bedridden.”

Mom studies me for a moment, and I shift in my seat. As if I have something to hide.

But I don’t.

I don’t.

“Abram called.”

“To tell you about the accident.” I already knew this.

“No. He called again, to talk about something else.”

My teeth clench, grinding down hard, as I imagine what he must’ve gone running to our mom about.

“No, sweetheart. Don’t be mad at him. He called because …” She hesitates, gaze flicking around the room.

This version of my mother is strange. She’s the most confident person I know. She never holds back. She lives life like it gave her lemons and she discovered that was her favorite fruit.

A quality I also admire in Warner.

Don’t think about him.

“He called me to ask more about The Dark Moon Riders.”

At the mention of Warner’s club, I can’t keep still anymore. What I said to him, what I did to us, is still too fresh. So, I stand. And I pace.

My ankle throbs with each step, but I deserve the pain.

“Did you tell him …”

“No. That’s not something your brothers need to know about.”

“It is if they keep trying to fight them!” The old floorboards creak under my agitated feet. “So? What new insights did you hand out?” Turns out, I’m still smarting from her keeping me in the dark.

“I didn’t.” She watches me move, and I feel like an injured field mouse avoiding the attention of a hawk. “I asked him to tell me what he’d learned. He told me about Warner.”

When she says his name, I try not to flinch. I fail.

“He talked about a biker who follows his baby sister around like a puppy. A man who looked ready to commit murder when he found out you’d been hurt. A man who makes you throw glitter and who you moon over like he’s a block of cheese.” A reluctant smile forms on my mouth at her description, but she’s not done. “A guy who seems to expect you to stay in Pine Falls for longer than just the month or so it should take you to sell this place.”

This time, I’m able to stifle my flinch, but just barely.

“Well, you don’t need to worry about that. I just told him I can’t stay.”

“Why not?”

I almost trip, her words a slippery banana peel in my path.

“What do you mean, why not ? You want me to move to Pine Falls?”

“I’d never claim to want that. But children move away from their families all the time. Across the country. Across the world. It’s not like you’d be the first.”

The idea sounds so reasonable when she says it.

Still, I shake my head.

“Maybe that works for some people. But you know how I get. How different I am from you all.”

She scrunches her nose. “You all? What does that mean?”

“Come on, Mom. I’m the introverted black sheep in the family. You all seek each other out while I’m one step away from a hermit.”

“So what?”

“So! You know how I am. I get lost. Cut myself off from the world.”

“Zoey.”

The amused exasperation in her tone frustrates me. She doesn’t get it.

“You all drop everything to come save me. And I hate it. Mainly because I keep needing it.”

“Sweetheart, no. We’re not saving you. We’re loving you.”

“I …” Words don’t come easy as I try to explain something about myself I don’t even fully grasp.

“We know how strong you are.” My mom reaches out to clasp my hand. “And we also know that your mind lies to you sometimes. That it tells you that you don’t deserve happiness. We’re here to remind you that you do and that you’re loved.”

Mom tilts her head toward the front porch, and I hear the strains of Maren Morris’s “The Bones.” The same song I had on repeat the week leading up to my leaving for Pine Falls.

“To be honest, I think they needed to see you more than you needed them.”

“They … hell, Mom.” My fingers curl into claws around their invisible collective neck. I’d never really strangle them. Only in my imagination. “They piss me off so much.”

She chuckles but tries to restrain the reaction when I glare at her.

“It’s disheartening. Having to choose to live with their constant smothering just so I don’t drown.”

Humor leaves her then, and she squeezes my palm. “You won’t drown, sweetheart. I promise you.”

“You don’t know , Mom.” I feel like there’s only one person who does. And she’s gone.

But maybe I can make my mother understand.

I pull free and hobble away, toward the back bedroom. The boom box sits beside the bed. I grab it and the precious wooden box full of decades-old tapes, returning to the kitchen.

“I found these. Do you recognize them?”

After gently placing the box in front of my mom, I set the stereo up on the counter, plugging it in.

“These … they’re not …” When I turn, she has a tape in her hand, staring at it like she’s cradling a ghost.

I limp over, choosing another from the collection at random and popping it into the player. After a moment, we hear a voice.

“Good morning, Colorado! It’s your girl, Silly Selena, back with the best beats in town?—”

Seeing the shimmer in my mom’s eyes, I stop the tape.

“They’re all you. Every one. Grandma Minnie listened to you. She loved you, but you never spoke.” I sigh, collapsing into a chair across from my mom. “Living here, I can see myself drifting away. Just like she did.”

My mom is quiet for some time, her fingers tracing over all the tapes.

“I understand, Zoey. Where you’re coming from … I understand. But it’s not the same thing.”

I huff, but she waves to keep me quiet.

“You know some of my childhood. That my father died in a motorcycle accident. That your grandmother kept me secluded. That I left when I was eighteen and never looked back.” She sucks in a bracing breath, and I find myself reaching for my tea. “But that’s just a rough outline. You deserve the whole story.”

Selena Gunner settles into her chair, her voice taking on a quality that has thousands of people tuning in to her radio show every morning. My mom knows how to captivate an audience, and I’m not immune.

“Your grandfather was a friendly man. I’m sure if you ask anyone in town who knew him, they’d say the same. He was on the town council. He was a volunteer firefighter. He played with a band at the local bars. And some weekends, he would take his bike out of the garage and go on long rides with the local motorcycle club.”

“Grandpa was a werewolf?” I clutch my chest, as if expecting to find a sudden growth of hair there, displaying my supernatural lineage.

Mom chuckles. “No, he wasn’t. But back then, there wasn’t as much of a separation between the wolves and the townspeople. Back then, everyone knew. They all got along just fine.”

Strains of music drift in from the front porch, my brothers smoothly sliding into some bluegrass. The sound is naturally soothing and has my muscles relaxing without thought. But it does nothing to stifle my curiosity.

“What happened?”

Mom takes a sip of her drink before powering on. “The night before my sixth birthday, your grandfather went out on a ride. He didn’t come back. Around midnight, Minnie got a call. Apparently, there was an accident with a tractor trailer. It ran multiple bikes off the road. Of course, all the other riders were werewolves. They were hurt but healed quickly. My father was the only one who died.”

I try to imagine my mom as a girl, small and vulnerable. But she’s so much larger than life that I struggle with the idea.

“By all accounts, it wasn’t the club’s fault. But your grandmother got it in her head that they were responsible. That the love of her life would still be alive if it wasn’t for the pack.”

“But it was the truck?—”

Before I’m done speaking, she’s already nodding.

“Yes. Still, when you lose someone you love, you don’t always react rationally. Minnie went into overprotection mode. She had two people in her life she loved, and one was gone. So, she clutched me closer. She cut off contact with everyone who wasn’t necessary. Homeschooled me. Forbade trips into town if she didn’t accompany me. Her anger and distrust of the wolves affected some townspeople. And later, I learned the pack leader felt responsible. He also pulled his people back, not wanting to be the cause of any more civilian deaths.”

The knowledge of this hits me hard. My family is the catalyst for the lines drawn through Pine Falls. The divide traces back to this event, the night my grandfather died on the wolves’ watch.

“You see, sweetheart, your grandmother didn’t drift away because she was introverted. She ripped herself away because she was grieving. And …” She sighs a sad breath. “I do think she suffered from some mental issues. Ones she refused to talk about or seek treatment for. Sometimes, she’d mutter things about the wolves working with demons to collect souls. That they took my father’s life in payment for mine.” She digs her thumbnail into the woodgrain of the table. “It took me a while to understand my mother. Too long. By the time I started to work through what made her the way she was, I was already pregnant with Abram. I reached out to Minnie, and she came up for his birth. But she only stayed long enough to hear his name and to give me a blanket. Then, she said I’d made my choices and it’d be best if we kept to our separate ways.”

“That’s harsh.” Sadness clutches at my chest. I can’t imagine what I would do if my mom told me to keep away from her.

“It was. And I fell back into my resentment as easily as a pair of well-worn jeans. But I can’t help thinking she didn’t mean what she implied. That, secretly, my choosing to leave was something she approved of.”

“I don’t understand.”

My mom’s smile is sad. “After years of being kept secluded, I was adept at sneaking out. And I’m sure you know what’s only a few miles down the road.”

“The Rabbit Hole,” I murmur.

She nods. “I met a young man there. A werewolf. He was kind and handsome and nothing like the monster Minnie had described. I was furious with her for painting a horrifying picture of the wolves. And I was looking for a way to rebel. So, I kept sneaking out to see him.”

“You dated a werewolf?” Like mother, like daughter .

“For a little while. But then I turned eighteen, and I was accepted to college in Denver. I realized that dating him, riding on the back of his motorcycle, sneaking beers in the woods—that was all me searching for freedom from Minnie’s fear. But I wouldn’t really be free until I left.”

“And the guy?”

“He wanted me to stay. To be his mate. But he wasn’t the love of my life. For a little while, I worried that he might be. That I might have left a great love behind. But then I met your father a year later and realized what true love is.” She reaches out to tuck a loose strand of hair behind my ear. “What I meant to say is, I think Minnie knew I was sneaking out. She was probably terrified that I was getting close to the wolves. So, when I left, even though I left her behind, I also left them behind. I think she would have rather given up the chance to see me than risk me associating with the pack.”

The image my mother describes of my grandmother isn’t exactly flattering, but it does give me another perspective to consider.

And yet the end result is still a rift that left the woman in Pine Falls lonely and cut off.

“I feel like staying here would be choosing to give you all up,” I admit. “Maybe you’re right. I’m not the same as Minnie. But I’m also not the same as you. You snuck out of windows for a chance at freedom. I wall myself up. Without my brothers’ badgering, who’s to say what happened in college won’t happen again? I don’t think I can do this alone.”

Even thinking about that time in my past makes my chest tight.

What would Warner think of that version of me?

Logically, I know depression is a disease. That it’s not my fault.

But I can’t help the shame that cuts at my nerves when I imagine him witnessing me in my darkest place.

“Sweetheart, listen. Just for a minute. Sit here with me and listen.”

“I have been?—”

Mom puts her finger to my lips, cutting me off. I roll my eyes, but shut my mouth, bracing for her next argument, ready to rebut with more explanations of how different I am from my family.

We can’t be viewed through the same lens. They’re rib-crushing hugs while I’m tight smiles. They’re permanent markers and I’m light pencil lines. They’re vibrant life, and I keep to the shadows.

I have all these words ready to go, but with no chance to use them because my mother doesn’t speak. She sits still and watches me. The only sound comes from the front porch, where my brothers harmonize their instruments, playing a folk song I recognize as one they commonly choose to warm up with. The music takes me to our backyard at family picnics and dingy bars, where I ferried beers to the stage.

“Don’t you hear it?” Mom asks, her eyes boring into mine.

“The music?”

“The love.” Her long fingers cup my cheek. “They’re all here. Did you ask them to come?”

I shake my head, a thick lump in my throat hindering my ability to speak.

“And you’ll never have to. Wherever you go, they’ll find you. We’ll all find you.” Her face splits into a wide, teasing grin. “Our smothering is international. You think a couple hours’ drive will stop them?”

Suddenly, I have to blink rapidly.

My mother leans forward in her chair, holding all of my attention. “If you love that man and you’re leaving him because you’re worried about losing us, don’t. You could be in the middle of Denver, living in the house next door to mine, and still be oceans away. The thought of you breaking your own heart … that’s what scares me. I’ve seen what a broken heart does to women in our family. I think if you came back to Denver, we might lose you more than we would if you were far away.”

And now that she says it, I can see that too. The idea of returning to my tiny apartment in Denver without the hope of seeing Warner again sets off more of those horrible cracks in my chest.

Never feeling his warm body against mine.

Never watching him smile while I ask my questions.

Never hearing his laugh again. Or his growl.

He’s my wolf. Mine.

This pain, a deep ache in my chest, this is drowning.

I turned down everything he’d offered, for fear of becoming my grandmother. But I already am her.

She turned away from love, just like I’m doing.

The image of Warner’s devastated face blares in my mind, threatening to crush me with panicked regret.

Have I destroyed my chance at happiness, just like she did?

“I told him to find someone else.” The admission comes out on a whisper.

My mother covers my fisted hands with her own. “Sweetheart, compared to you, there is no one else.”