Page 44 of The Wolves of Forest Grove

Ididn’t have my phone.

Fuck.

Layla and Viv weren’t in any of my classes for the rest of the day, but I was sure Viv would have texted me to ask what happened with Principal Dane. She would wonder why I wasn’t answering.

Had I had it with me when I ran out of the school? It had to have been in my pocket when I shifted. But I distinctly remember seeing all my clothes on the ground, shredded beyond recognition. I wasn’t sure if I’d seen it there.

I toweled off with shaking fingers and rushed to get dressed and pull a brush through my hair. Would the school have phoned Uncle Tim yet?

Was he trying to call me right now, too?

Was he calling Vivian’s house looking for me?

My heart thumped wildly against my ribcage, beating out a discordant rhythm that made my breaths come shallow and quick. The swell of panic was making it hard to think straight.

I stopped and set the brush down, inhaling deeply through my nose. Okay, Allie, I told myself. Go find your phone. Just do that first and then work on the next thing.

I nodded sharply to my reflection and left the room. “Hey,” Clay said as I ran down the stairs. Out of the corner of my eye, I saw his face was red, and he was avoiding looking at me.

The look in his wolf’s eyes when he saw me in the yard buck naked flashed in my mind and I grimaced. “Not now, Clay,” I bit out. “I need to go find my phone.”

I looked around the front door and groaned. “And my goddamned shoes.”

They’d better not be torn apart.

My breaths quickened and I dropped the sweater I lifted from the hook by the front door twice before I was able to get my arm in the sleeve.

“Allie.”

I got my arm through and held it with my numb fingers as I elbowed my arm into the other sleeve and reached for the door.

“Allie,” he repeated, firmer this time.

“What?” I whirled on him, teeth clenched and head beginning to spin from the lack of air. This was the scariest part of having a panic attack. That no matter how much I seemed to be breathing, it was like my body didn’t compute the O2. Like it was rejecting the air it needed to sustain itself.

I had to move. To walk. I needed fresh air against my cheeks. Then maybe my heart would stop beating like it might jump right out of my chest or stop completely any second.

Clay held up something slim and black in his right hand. “I have your phone,” he said. “The screen’s cracked a little, but it still turns on.”

I hiccupped at the sight of it. My eyes burned.

“And your shoes are in my shop. The sole came loose on the right one and I had to glue it back on. It’s in the vise until it dries.”

My lips pursed to keep the tears at bay. I would not cry in front of Clay.

Acutely aware that my breathing had begun to level out and the shaking in my fingers had lessened to a slight tremble, I swallowed. Tried to force the tension in my shoulders and spine to ease.

“Th-thank you,” I whispered, closing the gap between us to reach out for my phone.

He didn’t give it over right away, still holding it up just out of reach as he searched my face. “You did good,” he said.

I cocked my head at him, lips parting in surprise. “What?”

He jerked his head toward the window. “Out there. You did good. The shift was relatively clean, and you were able to hold off for a long time to keep from shifting in front of people. That’s good.”

I snapped my mouth shut, resisting the urge to tell him I didn’t give a fuck if I was good at it. Partially because I was still angry at the world literally tossing me to the wolves, and partially because I knew I needed to be good at it if I ever wanted my fucking life back.

“You shifted back pretty easily, too. Usually the first voluntary shift lasts a lot longer. A full day at least. That was barely an hour.”

“Should I be grateful?” I seethed, happy to replace some of the panic in my blood with the burn of anger. My wolf, who’d been all but gone since I shifted back, stirred in my belly.

Clay smirked but said nothing. He dropped the phone in my hand. “I called the school for you,” he added as he walked toward the kitchen. “You don’t have to go back today.”

I looked at my phone and then back at him. I illuminated the screen, wincing when I saw the spiderweb crack in the upper corner. But it did still seem to work fine. There was only one text from Viv, sent thirty minutes ago.

Vivian: How’d it go?

No texts from Uncle Tim. No phone calls from the school. Nothing.

The last of the panic ebbed away.

When I glanced back up, I found Clay carrying a plate of raw chicken and a pair of tongs toward the door.

“What do you mean you called the school?”

He paused, and something in his jaw twitched. “I told them you weren’t feeling well. That I came to pick you up.”

“You what?”

“Your Uncle,” he said, raising a brow. “Tim Adams, right?”

My mouth fell open.

“Don’t know about you but a good shift always makes me hungry.” He lifted the plate toward me—an offering. My stomach growled. “I’ll save you one.”

Then he vanished outside, and I felt the vibrations of his footfalls on the deck as he made his way to the barbeque with his massive plate of meat.

I gripped my phone, feeling the tiny shards in the top corner dig into the crease in my index finger. Had he actually called the school pretending to be my uncle to get me off the hook?

What the hell?

Why would he do that for me?

The whoosh of the barbeque being lit outside snapped me out of the confused daze. I texted Viv back.

“By the way,” Clay called from outside, his deep, gravelly voice carrying on the air. My fingers paused over the keypad. “You’re failing Math.”

I groaned.

“And geography.” Fuck. My. Life.

I was glad Clay didn’t ask what set me off at the school.

We tip toed around the whole subject as we ate at opposite ends of the deck off of paper plates.

Not speaking. When we were finished, Clay went around back to retrieve my shoes and lifted Jared’s keys off the peg inside the door with his pinkie finger.

“Come on,” he said. “I’ll drive you to work.”

“You don’t—”

“I do,” he interrupted, twirling the keys around his finger. “Jared’s orders.”

I quirked a brow at the giant. “You don’t seem like the type to take orders,” I grumbled, crossing my arms when he took the soiled plate from my hands to dump it into the trash bin inside.

A throaty grunt was his only reply to that.

I was starting to like Clay. Or at least, starting to think I could tolerate him. That was until the first slew of texts came in from Jared while I was at work.

I’d asked—no—begged Clay not to tell him what happened today, and the bastard had done it anyway.

I didn’t know how Clay got my number or how his number got saved into my phone, but amongst all the worried, sporadic texts from Jared was a single one from Clay. One Word.

Clay: Sorry.

I rolled my eyes at the screen, punching out a reply to Jared’s texts.

Allie: I’m FINE. Clay is being dramatic about it. I shifted. It sucked, but it wasn’t as bad as I thought it would be. Everything is good. You don’t have to come back.

Jared: Are you sure?

I hesitated. Truth be told, the first thought that crossed my mind when I started to shift yesterday after realizing I wouldn’t be able to stop it was that I wished Jared was there. He would have gotten me through it. Eased me into it.

But…it might have been worse that way. Clay’s emotionless demeanor and command to shift was what had finally spurred me into letting go. If Jared had been there—gentle, patient Jared—would I have fought it longer? Would it have hurt more?

Maybe it was for the best that he wasn’t there after all.

Allie: I’m sure. How are things at the quarry?

There was a long pause before he replied. I was able to help a customer and face up two whole stacks of books before his reply buzzed in my pocket.

Jared: As good as they can be. Everyone’s on edge right now with Ryland away dealing with the trespassing wolves.

A cold fist of guilt twisted in my gut.

I hoped he wasn’t fishing for me to give him any reassurances that I would give away my free will to his uncle. I hadn’t thought about it much yet and honestly, I didn’t want to. There had to be some other way.

Grimacing, I thumbed a reply.

Allie: I’m sorry for causing trouble. Jared: Not your fault.

Sure as hell felt like it was.

Jared: Don’t rush the decision. It can’t be undone.

I put my phone away and began to start the closing routine. Sweeping and vacuuming the front mat.

My pocket buzzed again.

Jared: What triggered the shift, anyway? Everything okay at school today?

I started typing out a reply but wound up erasing it.

I didn’t want to tell Jared what Mr. Wright said to me. It would only make him angry he wasn’t there. He would probably blame himself for the whole thing. I went with vagueness instead.

Allie: Mr. Wright was in the office today getting Devin’s things. I ran into him and panicked. That’s all.

Jared: Devin is gone. As far as we know he’s already two states over. If he’s smart, he won’t come back.

Was he smart? I swallowed hard. At least with Jared preoccupied at the quarry and Clay relegated to babysitting duty, they weren’t trying to come up with a suicide mission to go after my ex anymore.

Jared: How are things with Clay? I hope he’s not being a dick.

Well if that wasn’t a loaded question, I wasn’t sure what was. I bit my lower lip, doing my best to find a good response. I knew he and Clay were going through their own problems since I was turned.

They’d both mated to me, and from what I gathered, it was kind of a big deal.

I mean, I knew it was too on some level. What I felt any time I got near them or touched them was no joke. But surely that would fade, right? Or I’d get used to it.

We’d be able to go on as if it never happened, wouldn’t we?

They’d get over whatever rift that’d formed between them, right? They were best friends after all.