Page 24

Birdie

I’d always prided myself on being the kind of woman who knew exactly who she was. Birdie Mae Foster, frilly, loud, always down for a good time, never without lip gloss or a sassy comeback. But ever since that damn bite, I couldn’t tell where I ended and this new, uninvited... thing inside me began.

I wasn’t me anymore. Or maybe I was too much me, and that was the problem.

Eliza’s guest room had become my little self-imposed prison. I’d taken to pacing it like a caged animal, which felt ironic in the most messed-up cosmic way possible. One minute I was crying over my favorite lotion smell making me nauseous, the next I was sniffing the air like a bloodhound every time Knox walked by. That man smelled like cedar and secrets, and it wasn’t even sexy. It was annoying. My nose had no boundaries now.

Worse than that, though, was the way I could feel Rocky.

Not just in my dreams, which were steamy enough to make my own toes curl, but in my blood. In my skin. Like my body remembered him even if I didn’t want it to.

I’d asked Eliza if it was normal.

She blinked at me, holding her nonexistent baby bump, looking too composed for someone whose baby might be a fox shifter. “Define normal, sweetie.”

I didn’t know how. All I knew was every time the wind changed, I wondered if I’d catch Rocky’s scent again—motor oil, leather, pine, and something else. Something wild.

And I hated that I missed it.

I hadn’t been back to the Wild Dog since I stormed out. Hadn’t texted him, called him, not even liked one of the thirst traps his club girls still posted of him on their socials. Seriously, how many shirtless photos of one man could possibly exist?

I was avoiding him. I knew it. Eliza knew it. Hell, even Emma knew it. That little girl looked me dead in the eye yesterday and said, “Aunt Birdie, you look sad. Did you and Rocky Top break up?”

“We weren’t dating,” I muttered into my orange juice.

“Then why’d he bite you?”

Eliza choked on her coffee.

Yeah. That kind of week.

So here I was, sitting on Eliza’s back porch in a pair of borrowed pajama pants and a hoodie with a hole in the armpit, staring out into the late spring dusk like some kind of lovesick possum.

I missed him.

Dammit, I missed him.

And I was scared. More scared than I’d ever been in my life. Because I didn’t know if I could still be Birdie Mae Foster if I let myself be Rocky’s mate.

Did I have to trade my sunshine for his shadow?

The screen door creaked behind me. I didn’t have to look to know it was Eliza.

She settled into the rocker beside me and didn’t say anything for a long time. Just rocked with me. I appreciated that.

Finally, I broke the silence. “Do you ever think you made a mistake?”

She glanced over. “With Knox?”

I nodded.

“No,” she said, firm. “But I thought I did. At first.”

“But weren’t you angry? Angry that he bit you and chose this life for you?”

“Yeah, a bit. But you’ve got to remember, folks were trying to kill me. Mark. What he did to me and his own daughter. There was so much for me to be scared and angry about, Knox biting me was the last on the list. When he told me what he was... when he told me what I was carrying... I thought my life was over. Turns out, it was just beginning.”

“How did you know?”

“I didn’t.” Eliza smiled softly. “I just knew I didn’t want to go back to who I was before.”

“I don’ t even know who I am now.”

“You’re still you, Birdie.”

“But what if I’m not?” My voice cracked, shame pooling in my gut. “What if I’m this... this thing now? What if I wake up one day and I’m covered in fur and chewing on somebody’s poodle?”

Eliza laughed. “Then we’ll get you a chew toy and some conditioner. But you’ll still be you.”

I shook my head. “It’s not just that. It’s him.”

“Rocky?”

I nodded, feeling the burn behind my eyes. “I want to hate him. I really do. But I can’t stop dreaming about him. I wake up and my sheets are a mess, and I’m sweating like I’ve run a marathon. I feel like my body is craving something and I don’t even know what it is.”

“That’s the bond,” she said gently. “Sound’s like.”

“I didn’t ask for a bond!”

“No,” she said. “But it’s yours now. You can’t ignore it.”

“I can try. But Rocky said the bond wouldn’t make me want him.”

“No. You already wanted him, I’m pretty sure.”

“Ain’t that the truth. ”

Eliza reached over, taking my hand. “You can run all you want, honey. But eventually, you’ll have to stop. And when you do, he’ll still be there. Rocky’s not goin’ anywhere.”

I looked out into the trees, watching the shadows stretch long and low.

“I don’t know if that’s a promise or a threat,” I muttered.

She gave my hand a squeeze. “Both.”

Later that night, after Eliza went to bed, I found myself wandering the edge of the property.

Don’t ask me why.

Maybe I wanted to see if he was there, like she said. Maybe I was hoping to catch a glimpse of those blue eyes in the moonlight, or hear that deep, familiar voice calling me Sunshine like it was the only word he knew how to say soft.

But the woods were empty. No growls, no snarls, no biker in black waiting in the shadows.

Just me.

And that was worse.

Because now I couldn’t pretend he was the danger.

I was.

I was the one who wanted something I wasn’t sure I could handle. I was the one losing herself in the scent of him, in the memory of his mouth on mine. I was the one dreaming of teeth and touch and claiming like it meant salvation instead of surrender.

I didn’t want to be a shifter.

I didn’t want to want him.

But every inch of me ached for both.

I headed back to the house, feet dragging like lead, my mind a damn battlefield. And somewhere deep inside, beneath all the fear and frustration and fury... my wolf stirred.

It was faint, but it was there.

And she wasn’t running.

She was watching.

Waiting.

And wanting, just like me.

Eliza had drifted off to to sleep, her tea still half full on the coffee table. I envied her for the way she could sleep. For how she’d figured out how to live with this secret, with this... life. She made it look easy. Made loving someone like Knox look natural. Like a damn romance novel with tattoos and fur.

I sat there long after, after Emma’s nightlight clicked off on the timer from the hallway. The moonlight pushed through the blinds, making stripes across my lap. And still, I sat.

Because how the hell do you make peace with your life changing forever? With your body becoming something new, something unknown? How do you look in the mirror and not flinch when you see something feral peeking back?

I didn't want to be scared, but I was.

Not just of what I'd become… but of how badly I still wanted him.

Rocky.

That man, that wolf, that maddening gruff biker with eyes like thunderclouds. He bit me. Changed me. And somehow, even knowing that, maybe because of it, I still burned for him. Like a match held to kerosene.

The thought made me groan and press the heels of my hands into my eyes.

“Get it together, Birdie Mae,” I muttered under my breath.

I didn’t sleep that night.

Instead, I lay in Eliza’s guest bed, staring at the smooth ceiling, wondering if I’d ever feel normal again.

Wondering if I even wanted to.

I didn’t plan on seeing him again that soon.

I sure as hell didn’t plan on showing up at the Wild Dog at noon the next Saturday, looking like I’d lost a fight with a wind tunnel and a laundry basket .

But there I was, stomping into that clubhouse with my heart in my throat and my favorite pair of boots laced up tight, ready to at least pretend I wasn’t crumbling inside.

The bar was quieter in the daylight, no thumping bass, just the low murmur of club business, and a few hungover brothers nursing greasy burgers and black coffee.

I spotted Knox first, sitting in the booth near the front with a laptop open and his phone to his ear. He looked up when I passed and gave me a nod, but didn’t say a word.

Smart man.

Because it wasn’t him I came to see.

Rocky stood at the pool table, one hand braced on the edge, the other chalking a cue like he didn’t have a care in the damn world. He wore his usual: black tee, dark jeans, his cut slung over his broad shoulders.

The minute he sensed me, he stilled.

Didn’t look.

Didn’t move.

Just let the tension stretch.

I stopped three feet from him. “You got a minute?”

He turned, slow, cue stick in hand, and gave me a look that could’ve stripped paint off a Harley. “Always.”

I gestured toward the back hall. “Somewhere private? ”

His jaw ticked, but he nodded and led the way.

We ended up in the back room behind the bar, where the club held church. The long table, worn from years of whiskey glasses and bloodstained decisions, loomed between us like a damn altar.

“I’m not here to yell,” I said before he could speak.

He didn’t answer, just leaned back against the wall, arms crossed.

“I’m… trying,” I admitted, clutching the strap of my purse like a lifeline. “But I don’t know how to be okay with this.”

His brows pulled together. “You don’t gotta be okay with it today.”

“But I don’t know if I ever will be,” I snapped. Then softer, “You didn’t give me a choice, Rocky.”

“I gave you a life,” he said quietly. “And I’d do it again.”

Silence stretched thick between us.

“You feel different, don’t you?” he asked after a beat. “Smell things you couldn’t before. Hear better. Skin itchin’ like somethin’ underneath wants out.”

I blinked. “How do you know that?”

He huffed a dry laugh. “Because I remember what it’s like. Before my first shift. Before I understood what was happenin’. It ain’t easy, Birdie. And I’m sorry as hell that you got dragged into this. But you ain’t alone. ”

I stared at him, at the tightness in his jaw, the way his fists clenched like he wanted to punch something or maybe just grab me and never let go.

And that was the problem.

I didn’t know what I wanted him to do either.

I took a shaky breath. “I don’t know if I’m mad because you bit me… or mad because I still want you.”

That broke his expression. Just a flicker. A crack in the wall.

“I ain’t gonna lie,” he said, stepping closer. “Wantin’ you ain’t never been a problem for me. But I’ll be damned if I touch you again without you wantin’ it too.”

I stared up at him. My heart beat a little faster. My hands trembled.

“I don’t trust myself,” I whispered.

He reached out, slow and careful, until his fingers brushed mine. “Then I’ll hold the line for both of us.”

God help me.

I let him touch me.

Just that.

His rough fingers slid down to mine, interlacing, grounding.

“Stay,” he said, voice low.

“I can’t,” I said, even as I didn’t move.

He nodded like he understood, even though I knew it killed him.

“I’ll be here,” he murmured, pulling away, hands dropping to his sides. “Every time you wanna run, I’ll still be standin’ right here.”

I left before I could change my mind.

That night, I curled up on Eliza’s couch and watched Emma sleep on the monitor, her little arm thrown over her stuffed fox like she didn’t have a care in the world.

“I used to think I knew what I wanted,” I said quietly, the words slipping out without thought.

Eliza sat cross-legged at the other end of the couch, drink in hand. “And now?”

“Now I don’t know if I want to be human, or if I ever really was.”

She tilted her head. “You were always more wild than the rest of us. Maybe this just brought it to the surface.”

I laughed, soft and bitter. “Wild? I was the girl who cried at Disney movies and made homemade candles to sell on Etsy.”

Eliza gave me a look.

“Oh, miss was a virgin before she met a foxy biker. You’re saying I was wild in another sense. I get that. I’m experienced. But I’m a Rocky virgin.”

“That’s not what I meant. I meant, you’re a wild free spirit. And now you’re the girl who survived a supernatural attack, got bit by a wolf, and didn’t burn down the world after. Not yet.”

I looked at her, eyes wide.

She shrugged. “That sounds pretty badass to me.”

I snorted. “You’re insane.”

She grinned. “So are you. Welcome to the club.”

I curled deeper into the blanket and let her words settle.

Maybe I wasn’t ready to face what I was becoming.

But I wasn’t running either.

And that, I figured, was a start.