Page 19 of The Tracker's Secret

Rosalina started the car and got us on the road in a couple of seconds. She didn’t say anything until we were almost home, and I was grateful when she spoke of work and not Jake.

“I canceled this afternoon’s appointments and told them that we’ll reschedule as soon as we know your availability.”

“Thank you. I’m sorry that lately, things have been so... unstable.”

“It’s not your fault, and don’t worry, Triple T, we’ll deal with things as they come.”

“I should probably cancel my kick-boxing membership. I didn’t get to go. Again.”

But that was the least of my worries. The world I had carefully constructed around me since Jake left was falling apart one piece at a time. I made fists on my lap as my fingertips began to feel tight. I took several deep breaths, closed my eyes, and rolled my shoulders, inhaling deeply.

“Are you all right?” she asked.

“Not really. There’s something I need to tell you.”

“Is it what we talked about this morning?” she asked in a quiet voice.

I nodded. “I’m afraid it might make things worse than they already are.”

She sighed. “Well, whatever it is, we’ll deal with it like we always do. Together.”

A warm feeling spread inside of me, relaxing me right away. The pressure at my fingertips went away, and I was able to breathe more easily. No one could have a better friend.

“Let’s get home,” she said. “We’ll eat some dinner, and then we’ll talk over a cup of tea, how does that sound?”

“It sounds great.”

During the rest of the way home and while we ate dinner, I felt calm and capable of telling Rosalina my secret without losing my cool. But as we sat down in the living room with matching cups of tea—Rosalina on the sofa and me in the armchair to her right—my heart started hammering and that awful itching started all over again.

“All right, I’m all ears,” Rosalina said, then took a sip of her chamomile tea and set the cup down on the coffee table.

She’d changed into comfy flannel pants and had put her black hair up in a messy bun. Her gentle smile told me that no matter what I was about to tell her, she was behind me one hundred percent. I had no idea what she was imagining, but one thing was certain: there was no way any of her notions came close to the truth.

“Um, you know how I went to see my mom yesterday?” I started.

She nodded.

“And how she’d been desperate to have me over?”

Another nod, then she pushed to the edge of the sofa, her elbows resting on her knees as she leaned forward attentively.

The pressure in my fingertips came back abruptly as if someone had flipped on a switch. I shot to my feet and walked behind the armchair. I grabbed the headrest and stared down at my friend, whose green eyes shone with concern.

“It’s okay,” she said. “You know you can tell me anything.”

My heart pounded as the words formed inside my mouth. I wanted to explain everything calmly and from the beginning, but my vocabulary seemed to, in an instant, have been reduced to only one phrase.

I’m a werewolf.

I searched for more inside my addled brain, but it had gone blank.

My hands tightened over the headrest, and my arms trembled as I dug my fingers into the upholstery. There were several pops as the fabric ripped under the pressure of my nails. Rosalina blinked in surprise and frowned at my hands.

“Did you just...?”

I swallowed.

Shit, I’d just ruined her new armchair.