“I could say it ten more times, and it still wouldn’t cover it.You’ve left me outnumbered.It’s all men, all the time.”
I chuckle.“Even if I were there, they’d still have the majority.”
She rattles on a bit longer about my brothers and my father before we finally hang up.
As I climb down from the tree house, my brain is already strategizing.
Guilt sits like a heavy muck, coating my heart.The way I reacted, maybe it would be understandable to some, but I pride myself on how open-minded I can be.
That night, I treated Warner like a freak.
The need to apologize tugs me toward Pine Falls, but I resist the urge, instead returning to the cabin.Words aren’t enough to make this right.He needs to know I’m not saying some empty platitude.
Plus, there’s the whole thank-you-for-saving-my-life situation.
That werewolf had better brace himself for a Gunner apology.
26
ZOEY
I’m wearing a dress.Which means I shaved my legs.
Do werewolves care about shaved legs?
When you’re one second away from a pelt, does a little stubble really matter?
Still, I like the smooth feel of them rubbing together.After working out my apology, I decided to put effort into my appearance.
These past few weeks, a good day was when I showered and wore a clean pair of jeans.Most of the time, I’d just throw on some leggings and a T-shirt because I knew I’d get dirty.
But today, I’m not sorting through my grandmother’s dusty belongings.
Today, I am apologizing to a werewolf.
Just as soon as I find him.
A little bell jingles as I walk into Sawdust and Supplies.There was no answer when I knocked on the side door that leads up to Warner’s apartment, so I’m hoping to find him helping out behind the counter.But the only Jameson around is Rebecca, who’s stocking light bulbs on a front shelf.
“Zoey.You need something?”
“Yes.I’m looking for your son.”
She turns to me with a raised eyebrow.“Warner?Have you lost him?”
“In a way.”I breathe through my guilt.
As more and more time passes and as I walk in the radiant sunshine of the day, the crippling fear from that night seems even more ridiculous.
Well, not the terror from being attacked by a mountain lion.That’s completely reasonable.But the way I let myself become frightened of Warner.
The same guy who had given me a ride to my crochet club the first time I met him.The guy who had lent me some of his power tools so I could refurbish an old dining room table.
He’d hiked through torrential rain to find me in the woods.
He’d fought a mountain lion for me.
The man who’s more likely to smile than scowl.
