But it’s a little bit of freedom, a little bit of fresh air, which I breathe in gratefully before getting behind the wheel of the late-model clunker that’s about twenty years older than the truck Derik drives. Still, it gets me around to the few places I’m actually allowed to go, and now I steer in the direction of the grocery store in town. I leave the windows open a little, hoping the air passing through the car will mean my clothes smell a little less like cleaning products by the time I reach my destination.
By the time I reach town and park in front of the store, it’s not my luck at finding a parking space or even my grocery list at the front of my mind. It’s the sight of a familiar truck parked across the street that pops my brief moment of respite like a bubble. I would know Cole’s truck anywhere. After all, I looked for it every single day in the parking lot at school, hoping just for once that it wouldn’t be parked in its usual spot. If just once, I could spend a day not being tormented by him and his twin sister, Tara. There was no getting away from them. No avoiding them in the halls, where they would slam me into lockers and pull my hair so hard, there were times I was sure they would break my neck.
But it was the things they said that haunted me.Murderer. Widow maker. Parent killer. Just because your mom died, you had to kill our parents?Like I meant for any of it to happen.
But it doesn’t matter, and it never did. They decided long ago to blame me for something that was completely out of my hands. And now, years later, I still carry deep, invisible scars that somehow hurt worse than anything I’ve endured from my family. Cole’s cruelty was the worst and lingered longer and more painfully than any bruise I’ve ever received. The past few weeks of not having to see him around school have been a small blessing in my life, like a glimmer of light in so muchdarkness. I only hope he’s not in the store as I climb out of the car, knowing how much trouble I’ll be in if dinner is late.
It’s a relief to navigate the aisles without catching sight of his familiar, dreaded frame, but that doesn’t mean I waste any time, going straight for what I know I need and dropping it in my cart. As I pass through the baking aisle, the sight of cake mix lining one of the shelves stops me short.
Wouldn’t it be nice if somebody cared that my birthday is tomorrow? Not just any birthday, but my eighteenth. Most people in my position are getting ready for a party, looking forward to their gifts, to the freedom of being considered an adult. All I have to look forward to is another day like today, since I know there won’t be any celebration. I haven’t celebrated a birthday since Mom died. There hasn’t been anybody in my life to care enough in the past eight years.
And that isn’t going to change anytime soon. Gritting my teeth, I force myself to keep walking, to forget the memories of being loved and cherished and celebrated. As painful as my existence is, the pain only gets worse when I remember that it wasn’t always this way.
Chapter 2
Cole
The smellof burgers and fried chicken has my mouth watering and makes me tap my foot impatiently on the diner’s linoleum floor. Maybe I should’ve waited outside. I would still be hungry while waiting for my family’s takeout order, but there wouldn’t be the temptation to take food directly off somebody’s plate and eat it right in front of them. They’re usually quicker than this around here. Just my luck for them to be running slow when it’s my turn to pick up food.
“Only another couple of minutes.” The girl at the hostess stand gives me an apologetic smile that drops off her face when I don’t return it. Normally, I wouldn’t mind passing the time flirting with a random girl, especially a cute one with a big rack like this girl. I don’t know what it is, but in the five minutes I’ve sat on this bench waiting for my order, my mood has tanked. My wolf is restless.
When I look over my shoulder to distract myself from the sight of so many plates full of food, it almost doesn’t come as asurprise to find a familiar blonde loading groceries into the rust bucket she still drives.
Did my wolf sense her presence before I noticed her? It would explain why it sort of feels like he wants to burst out of my clothes. The sight of the useless half-breed who killed my parents tends to do that.
The aroma of the food fades into the background along with the chatter around me. Everything focuses on her. Nora. She looks like she threw on whatever rags she grabbed first before heading out. Her long blonde hair is pulled up in a bun on top of her head with strands hanging around her face. The way she struggles with a pair of heavy bags as she tries to maneuver them into the backseat makes me smile—any example of her having difficulty usually has that effect. That’s probably why Tara and I spent so much of our high school years making sure little Nora never had a moment of peace. Why should she? Why should we let her get away with what she did to Mom and Dad, then go on with her life? No fucking way.
A car passes close to where she’s about to open the driver’s door, and she stops before shooting a dirty look at the other car. For some reason, the corner of my mouth tugs upward before I know what I’m doing. This is probably the first time I’ve ever seen her do more than stand around with her head down and her chin tucked too close to her chest. Like she was always worried about getting hurt, even as she pretended to ignore my twin sister and me for all those years of school. Like I couldn’t see straight through her.
When her head swings back around, there’s a split second when she pauses and her face falls. I’m almost sure she sees me sitting here, watching her. I would swear her light blue eyes find mine, and they narrowa little.
Now I remember what I hate about her most: her peaches and cream skin. Her delicate features. The light scattering of freckles across the bridge of her nose—I’m too far away to see them now, but I could practically draw a map of them from memory. I’ve stared down at her enough times and watched her face go ghostly white so the freckles stand out. I’ve stared into those huge blue eyes, and watched pain and dread dance in them. She could pretend all she wanted that it didn’t affect her when we made her life hell, but her eyes always gave her away.
She has no right, being that beautiful. Someone with an ugly soul doesn’t deserve to look so angelic on the outside. Over the years, as she has blossomed, it’s only made me hate her more.
“To-go order!” The chipper announcement is like a wrecking ball smashing through my distraction. There are two full bags of food on the counter, which I pick up, murmuring my thanks before turning back toward the front window. Nora’s gone, letting a mom in a minivan take the space across the street.
My wolf is quieter now. I guess his agitation had to do with her, and it makes me wonder if he senses her because of what she did to Mom and Dad. Like she’ll always be in his crosshairs. The idea won’t leave me alone through the drive home, where of course my siblings are waiting impatiently for our order. I need to push that useless little nothing out of my head.
“Fuck, I thought I was going to have to eat my own arm,” my brother Zeke says as he clears space on the kitchen table while Tara sets out plates. “I was thinking about driving around, making sure you didn’t get in an accident or anything.”
A look of reverence comes over his face as he starts pulling containers out of the bags I set on the counter. “When I imagine all of this going to waste in the car, it chokes me up a little.”
Rolling my eyes, I mutter, “Glad to know you were so concerned about me.”
“I knew you were fine,” Tara assures me, using a scrunchie on her wrist to pull back her long, black hair like she’s preparing to dive into her meal.
“I know, I know. It’s a twin thing.” Zeke rolls his eyes, setting Declan’s food out, though I haven’t seen our brother since I got home. Being the pack alpha isn’t exactly a nine-to-five job. We grew up knowing Dad could be called away at any second to handle something pack-related.
Tara notices the direction my gaze traveled. “He’ll be right back. Some kind of minor issue that needed to be cleared up.”
“The bear clans are getting a little too friendly with our borders.” Zeke’s cheerful attitude falls away before he basically consumes half of a steak sandwich with one bite. With his mouth full, he adds, “They’ve been hunting on our land.”
That isn’t minor. “They’ve been a little too free and easy with the border before now, haven’t they?” I muse. The bacon on my burger is perfectly crisp, and it melts on my tongue before I groan happily and take another bite.
“Exactly,” Zeke mutters around a mouthful of fries. “Something’s going to have to be done.”
“Can we not talk about this while we’re trying to eat dinner?” Tara asks. “Don’t get me wrong, I love hearing about ripping a bunch of bears’ heads off, but give me abreak.”
