I’m just about to throw my leg over my bike when?—
“Roderick”—she’s on the curb now, staring at me with a stern expression—“you should be wearing a helmet.”
Then, she turns and strolls off, thankfully focused on tormenting another Jameson.
28
WARNER
I’ve been workingon this bike for two hours, the practice normally meditative.But I can’t get Zoey out of my mind.
The events of a few nights ago play on a loop in my head, an old black-and-white monster movie, jerky and poorly constructed.Like my decision-making.
She’s gone.
I fucked up my chance with the only woman who’s ever made my wolf as restless as the full moon.For the first time in a long time, the beast and I are in complete agreement.
We want Zoey Gunner.
Then, an image stutters across my mind.The brave, enthusiastic woman of my dreams, staring at me with blank eyes.My teeth grind together at the memory of her complete shift in personality.Zoey shut down, as if she needed to protect herself.
From me.
She thinks I’m a monster.
She’s not wrong.A portion of the town thinks the wolves are terrifying creatures to be placated so we don’t fill the streets with blood.
Not that we ever would.
But we could.
Sometimes, I worry my wolf will wake and demand more control.That the animal in me will overwhelm the logic of my human half.That I’ll do something to deserve fear.
A vibration fills my ears with a rumbling noise.It takes me a moment to realize I’m growling.
Just like a monster would.
I clear my throat, pushing the impulse down.Luckily, Harvey has the radio blaring hard core metal, so he didn’t hear my slip.The guy knows about wolves, likes us even, but there still aren’t many humans comfortable with being reminded.
I was naive to think Zoey would accept my truth as if I were merely showing her an ugly birthmark.A small blessing that she didn’t run away, screaming her head off.
And if I’m being honest with myself, I could’ve kept it from her.
If I had been firmer about her leaving, she might’ve gone.
Or I could’ve stayed in my human form and fought the lion off that way.Would’ve taken longer and been bloodier, but I’m strong, and I heal fast.If I had gone that route, I might be with her now, getting nursed back to health.Zoey would probably be babying me this very moment.Maybe kissing my bruises to make them feel better while scolding me for being stupidly reckless.
Instead, I’m sitting here, alone, covered in grease, mourning the loss of her.
All because I wanted her to know.In that moment, the decision to reveal my secret seemed easy.Certain the connection I could almost see between us must mean something.That she wouldn’t cringe from me, but accept what I was with open arms and her excited smile.
Sometimes, I can be completely dense.
Also, sometimes, I hallucinate.Because there’s no way that Zoey Gunner just walked into Harvey’s shop.Especially not looking likethat.
The woman I know wears sweatpants, maybe jeans, and paint-stained T-shirts or possibly a soft sweater.
Zoey Gunner does not wear dresses.Definitely not white ones that hug her waist and have trails of copper buttons down the front.The material sways around her thighs, showing off a set of legs meant to make a man fall to his knees and crawl behind her in the hopes of catching an ounce of her attention.
