Page 11 of Legacy Wolf: Semester One (Legacy Wolf #1)

RAWLING

“Catch you later.”

I walked in the opposite direction to Jack and Channon, as I was headed to Professor Shaw’s office. Our meeting had been postponed twice, but his latest text assured me we couldn’t be disturbed this afternoon.

“Rawling, welcome.” The professor greeted me at his door and ushered me into the office, the walls lined with bookshelves groaning under the weight of huge tomes. “Take a seat.”

I hesitated because while there were three chairs in addition to his behind the large mahogany desk, each one was piled high with papers.

“Sorry.” The professor whipped off the papers from one chair and indicated for me to sit before settling himself in the old, wrinkled leather chair that squeaked as he leaned back. I wondered how many students had been in here over the years, their discussion punctuated by the creaking.

“Tea?” he asked, a porcelain teapot covered with pink roses in his hand.

“Thank you.” I didn’t drink tea but thought refusing would be rude. Besides, I was nervous and therefore thirsty.

“Milk or lemon?”

I had no idea. “Ummm, lemon, please.” He gave me a cup and saucer and handed me a plate, containing slices of lemon, each with a little toothpick in the center.

Damn, I should have chosen the milk. What was I supposed to do with the toothpick?

The hand holding the dainty cup and saucer trembled and a small amount of tea sloshed over the side onto the saucer.

“Sorry.” Now what? My godfather wasn’t a tea drinker, so I had no idea. Did I ignore it?

The professor shook his head and confirmed, “Rawlins never did like tea.” He removed the cup and saucer, cleaned up the mess in a small sink in the corner of the room, and handed it back.

He also chose lemon for his drink, and when I observed him slide the slice into the tea and place the toothpick on the saucer, I did the same.

“Tell me, how are you enjoying Sombertooth?”

I had just taken a sip of my drink, and the sourness of the lemon combined with an unexpected floral flavor had me gulping the hot mouthful and regretting it. It reminded me of grass I’d eaten as a bet when I was a kid.

“It’s… different from my previous college.”

He nodded and picked up his cup, holding it with both hands as he drank. “Ahhh. Nothing better than a cup of tea.”

I could think of plenty of things but said nothing.

“I forgot the cake.”

He opened a bakery box containing six cupcakes, slathered in thick icing. There was never cake in the dining hall, so I took one, and the sweetness blunted the taste of tea.

“Rawlins always wanted you to come to Sombertooth.”

I almost dropped my cup. “He did?” He’d told me so many great things about the place, and I was honoring him by coming here, but I never got the impression he wanted me to attend the college.

“Mmmm. At the time I thought it was a mistake but perhaps I was wrong. I hear you’re a star archer?”

“Not sure about that.” I kept expecting my so-called skill to be beginner’s luck and for me to be kicked off the team when Coach discovered how shitty I really was.

“And you’re roommates with a lat— with a girl. That’s unusual.”

“Yes, there was a mix-up, but no one else wanted to change rooms, so we’re stuck with one another.

” This was a plus for Jack and me. If I was forced to have Atticus as my roommate, I’d sleep in the athletics hall.

Gulp, that sent my mind reeling in the direction of a wolf tattoo accompanied by a huge cock. But I pushed Phelan out of my mind.

“I recognize that look.”

What? No. There was no way I was discussing Phelan and his big dick with the professor.

I wiped all images of said dick from my mind.

It didn’t work ‘cause wriggling my ass on the hard chair as I tried to erase the memory of Phelan’s cock in my hole did the opposite.

The recollection refused to be banished.

“You’re craving something.”

He pushed the cake box across the desk. “Take another one.”

Relief flooded through me, and I shoved the cupcake in my mouth, manners be damned. Anything to veer away from the images of dicks and holes.

“Rawlins left you something,” the professor noted.

“That’s right.” I grinned. I was forever linked to him, thanks to what my parents had bestowed on me. “I’m named after him.”

“Oh yes, of course.” He leaned forward, his tea forgotten, both elbows on the desk. “How did your parents meet Rawlins? I’ve forgotten.”

I explained how they’d been hiking and had lost their way. My godfather-to-be, as he was then, was also out in the woods, though they’d told me he was bare-assed ‘cause he’d been skinny dipping. “He led them back to the trail, but he never did find his clothes.”

The professor and I shared a laugh.

“They became close friends, and after the accident, well… you probably know the rest of the story. I am who I am because of him.” I hardly remembered my parents, which was a source of guilt.

“He was a good man.”

Fate hadn’t been kind to the adults in my life, and meeting Jack and having a real connection with her, apart from the Atticus issue, was one of the only reasons I stayed at Sombertooth instead of dropping out.

“But his name wasn’t the only thing he left you.” He got up and rummaged in the bottom drawer of an ancient filing cabinet. “Found it.” Above his head he held a leather satchel. “This was his when we were students.”

“Oh, it’s that old,” I blurted out. My cheeks burned, and I slapped a hand over my mouth. “I’m sorry. That was rude. Forgive me, Professor Shaw.”

He chuckled. “No need to apologize” As I reached out to stroke the leather, the professor studied my ring. “That was also a gift.”

“Yes.” I twisted it, and his mouth formed an O.

“Don’t take it off.”

That was what my godfather had told me, repeatedly. “Why?” I neglected to inform him I did remove the ring to clean it.

“Maybe this is silly, but that ring is such a tangible link to Rawlins, if you remove it…” His voice trailed away.

“I’ll lose it? The connection?”

“Mmmm.”

It wasn’t logical, but there was no reasoning with emotions. “Okay, I’ll keep it on.”

“Take this and keep it safe.” He picked up the satchel, and I took the hint that our meeting was over.

“Thank you.”

“And if you ever need help or advice, or even someone to talk to, come and see me.”

As I wandered to my room, I fingered the leather, worn down by years of use. I sniffed it, and my feet froze. It was infused with his scent, and memories flooded back of Rawlins reading me bedtime stories and making me eat cereal before school, and of him hugging me when I scraped my knee.

Tears trailed over my cheeks, and I was pleased Jack wasn’t in the room to witness my pain. Sitting on my bed, I opened the satchel and removed a heavy book. It was a diary slash notebook, and I traced over Rawlins’s name on the cover, written in his hand.

There were scribbled notes and old assignments shoved between the pages, some artwork of a wolf and a bear.

While the former wasn’t the same as Phelan’s tattoo, there was another drawing, similar to the tat on Atticus’s wrist. Maybe the person in that photo I’d seen on the wall was Atticus’s father or perhaps an uncle.

I flipped through some of the pages, but it was the history of my godfather’s time at Sombertooth. It didn’t hold much relevance to me, but maybe if I studied it, I might pick up tips on how to survive the college experience.

Glancing around the room, I searched for a hiding place.

I would tell Jack about it, but not yet.

I needed time alone with the book and my memories of my godfather before sharing it with her.

I tried putting the book under the mattress but it was too bulky and it made the bed lumpy.

My closet? Jack wouldn’t look in there, except she did sometimes if she’d lost her socks and wanted to borrow mine.

My eyes landed on my suitcase above the closet.

Perfect. Once in place, I was satisfied no one but me would find the book.

I lay on the bed, and as usual when I was thinking, I twisted the ring.

It needed cleaning, and I should have done it while Jack was out and the guys who shared our bathroom were at swimming training.

Another time.

How had Rawlins been so sure I’d come to Sombertooth that he left me the book? It made no sense. Even more perplexing was why he loved this place so much.

“I bet no one ever sniffed him.”