Total pages in book: 23
Estimated words: 21482 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 107(@200wpm)___ 86(@250wpm)___ 72(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 21482 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 107(@200wpm)___ 86(@250wpm)___ 72(@300wpm)
My feet make quick work of the stairs. The front door’s standing open.
Heart thundering, I look into the yard. The moon is bright and still high, and in the soft silver light I see Brandon’s shirt shredded on the ground. I pick it up, looking for blood, wishing I had my gun with me. But no blood. The fabric is torn as if he’d ripped the shirt off.
I find his jeans about twenty yards farther on—the denim torn apart at the seams.
“Brandon?”
It’s a fierce, shaking whisper. Summer nights are cold here, and I’m out in my T-shirt and underwear and bare feet, but I suspect that the storm of emotion inside me is to blame for my shivers.
I wait as long as I can before heading back inside. A quick tour of the first floor tells me that he hasn’t come back while I was out. But maybe waiting in my bed? I race upstairs and stop dead outside my room.
Claw marks.
One on either side of my door. Up high, where a very tall man might have braced his hands while waiting for an answer from inside.
Fingers trembling, I reach up to trace one of the rough edges. So he was standing here and just…shapeshifted?
Relief washes over me.
I think I know what this is. Overwhelming emotion triggers the change in Alicia—especially fear. When it did, she was terrified she would hurt someone during that loss of control. And, okay. She’s a werewolf, not a bear, and new to everything instead of being born to it. But it makes sense that something similar was going on here.
I said yes, then Brandon got walloped by emotion. His hands became claws, and he took off to make sure he wouldn’t hurt me.
I don’t know if he was walloped by love, but it must have been some strong feeling. Maybe overwhelming lust—and he was afraid of ravaging my delicate human body. Either way…I’m happy. And surely, as soon as Brandon regains control, he’ll come back.
To make the invitation clear, I leave my bedroom door open. Then I lay awake, listening for his return, my heart filled with hope.
This time will be different.
He’s not back by dawn. But he said that he’d bust his ass making it work between us. He said that he’d love the fuck out of me, today and every day to come.
But the next day comes. And the next.
And the next.
Brandon doesn’t.
Ranger says not to worry about him. That sometimes bears do this—take off into the woods to get their heads on straight again. But they usually come back.
Except he doesn’t. Not the next week. Or the next month. Or the next. Winter arrives, and the ice outside seems to fill up my heart, my bed. Gone is any hope. And I don’t remember why I thought this time would be different.
The only difference is how much more it hurts.
But never again.
Never fucking again.
1
SAMANTHA
ONE YEAR LATER
Still on for dinner tonight?
My sister’s text comes through as a summer cloudburst begins pelting my windshield.
Yep.
Sure? Mom says you picked up an extra shift today. Everyone will understand if you’d rather sleep.
Considering that she is the one with a new baby, usually it’d be Alicia who needed sleep. But that’s yet another benefit of being a werewolf. She doesn’t tire very easily.
And me…I’ve been tired for a while. I get plenty of sleep. It just doesn’t do much good. So any other day, I might have cried off. But it’s the nineteenth of August and my mom’s flying home tomorrow, so this dinner doesn’t have an easy do-over.
I’m almost done. I’ll hit my bed for a few hours before I come. I’ll make up the rest tomorrow.
Sounds good. And just so you know, Brandon might be here tonight. Maybe. We’re not really sure when he’s arriving.
It’s like I’ve been kicked in the chest. My pained gasp fills the patrol car before my throat closes up and suddenly I can’t breathe at all. But no. No. I fight against the stupid fucking ache in my heart. That’s done with. It’ll always be done with.
Ok, I reply.
I’ve never been so glad that we prefer texting to calling, so she has no idea of how much of a lie that little Ok is.
I follow it up with a If you’ve got diapers on your clothesline, better bring them in. Thunderstorm’s heading toward town.
I know. I smelled it.
You brag but you also get the dubious pleasure of super-smelling what fills those diapers.
The cutest little baby butt is what’s in those diapers. And speaking of smelling, maybe a bit of perfume so Ranger doesn’t think you’re a ghost again?
A cry-laughing emoji follows that message, which is exactly what Alicia did when I showed up at their place the other day. I’ve never seen Travis Ranger rattled, let alone spooked. Yet he was then, face white and staring at me until I explained what I’d done.