Dillon pulled Colin into a hug and pounded him on the back with his fist. “You’re going to be fine, C.” It was the nickname Dillon had given him when they were children.
“Promise you’ll keep in touch.” Colin patted Dillon and then released him.
“You know I will.”
Dillon marched out of his house with his friend on his heels. He tossed his bag into the back of his truck bed and then climbed into the cab. He rolled down the window and lifted his chin at Colin. “Take care.”
Colin’s eyes glimmered with unshed tears. Dillon understood his pain. Pack was family. Losing a pack member was like losing a piece of yourself, no matter how it happened.
He backed out of the driveway and drove swiftly to the entrance of their pack’s property. He couldn’t say any more goodbyes. Colin wanted to go with him, and while Dillon would have enjoyed his company, Dillon needed some alone time. He felt as if his pain was going to overwhelm him, and he didn’t want reminders of the life he had previously shared with his parents—not even Colin, because he was a part of those memories.
Without even looking in the rearview mirror, Dillon drove through the gate and out onto the highway. He’d never before considered facing a future that didn’t include his parents. They’d never meet his future true mate, hold their grandchildren, or get to watch them grow up. He’d never hear his mother’s boisterous laughter or listen to his father tell the same stories over and over again because he loved to relive his past. There would forever be a hole inside of Dillon where they belonged. Dillon didn’t know how to cope with his pain. Perhaps he was running, as his alpha had suggested. But running away was still better than staying at home, waiting for his loved ones to come back, and hoping that it was only a nightmare from which he would eventually awaken.
“Screw that.” He rolled down the windows and let the roar of the wind fill the silence. Dillon had no plan except to drive until he was tired of driving. Maybe that wouldn’t be until he reached the ocean, in which case he may or may not just drive right into it. If he couldn’t find some purpose in his life, some meaning other than living with the grief that filled him, then Dillon couldn’t promise he wouldn’t take his truck for a dive into the depths of the sea.
With those dark thoughts filling his mind, he drove into the night.
Some months later, Dillon reached a campground called Wolf Lake Park. It was nine minutes from a small town called Coldspring, Texas. As far as he knew, there were no packs in the area. On his journey, Dillon had quickly learned he didn’t like motels with their overwhelming strange smells. And sleeping in his truck got old. So he’d purchased a small travel trailer and stayed at campsites when he needed to rest.
“A fitting place to end my journey.” He was tired of running and tired of driving, not to mention, too much farther and he’d just hit the ocean. He parked his truck and camper in the assigned spot. Dillon climbed out of his truck and walked over to the picnic table that was near a firepit. He sat and then stretched out on his back on the bench and closed his eyes, soaking up the afternoon sun. He sighed. It had been months since he’d left his pack, and the pain still hadn’t eased. Maybe it never would. Maybe he’d build a life here, away from other packs. He’d leave the dangers of being a Canis lupus behind and just live like humans did. A lone wolf. And no doubt the only actual wolf in Wolf Lake Park.
Dillon took a deep breath and let it out slowly before sitting back up and then standing. He stretched his back, his vertebrae popping as he did. His wolf itched beneath his skin, hoping to phase and go on a run, but Dillon told the beast no. He didn’t know if he’d ever take his wolf form again. His final memories with his parents were of their last hunt together, running through the forest with the wind whipping through his fur. Pushing those thoughts away, he went to work setting up the camper as he’d done dozens and dozens of times. Only this time, maybe it would be the last time.
Tomorrow, he’d go into Coldspring and see about finding a job. Preferably hard labor that would exhaust him every day so he’d pass out when he came home. Considering what he was, it might take two jobs to do the task. He’d work as much as he could to accomplish that goal and continue to wait until thoughts of his parents no longer felt like a knife to his heart.
1985
Dillon effortlessly tossed another sack of cattle feed into his friend’s trailer. It was the fiftieth one he’d loaded in an hour.
“How can you do so much work and not break a sweat?” Steve asked, as he hooked his thumbs into his front pockets. “Especially in this heat?”
The man shrugged. “I’m a werewolf. I have superhuman strength, and the heat doesn’t bother me as much as it does humans” is what Dillon wanted to say. But he didn’t want his friend to think he was an escaped mental patient, so instead he leaned against the side of the truck and crossed his arms. “I work out a lot. Guess I’m just in good shape.”
Steve eyed him skeptically. His wrinkled face was tanned from working in the sun, and despite his advanced age, the man had a spryness about him that Dillon found endearing. “Well, whatever you’re doing, it’s working. And people are noticing, especially the womenfolk. The missus swears every single woman in this town suddenly has something they need from the feed store.” The old man chuckled. “I told her they were probably coming in to check the corkboard to see about finding studs to breed their heifers. She said they were some heifers looking for a stud alright, but it had nothing to do with livestock.”
Dillon shook his head. “I’ve noticed. Tell Gladis it’s not just the single ones. I may be big, but I still don’t want to fight off any jealous husbands. Especially around here, where everyone has a rifle hanging in a gun rack of their pickup truck.”
Steve’s eyes twinkled with mirth. He waggled a finger at Dillon and smiled. “I’m going to tell her. It will tickle her and give her some gossip to share with her Bunco group.”
Dillon’s brow furrowed. “Bunco?”
Steve leaned in and in a conspiratorial whisper said, “It’s really a ladies poker group, but they don’t want to call it that on account that it might offend some of the folk who think gambling goes against the Good Book.”
“Ahh.” Dillon nodded. “Got to keep up appearances.” He understood that more than Steve could possibly know.
“Something like that.” Steve climbed into the cab of the truck and leaned out the open window. “I’ll see you next week, Dillon. You let me know if my bride comes in here looking for a stud.”
Dillon tapped the side of the older gentleman’s truck and laughed. “I’ll do that. You take care, Steve.” Before he could close the door, Dillon added, “Hey, are you having any more problems with coyotes getting your calves?”
Steve shook his head as he stuck it out. “Not since we talked about it last week.”
Dillon nodded. “Let me know if you do. I’m always up for a good coyote hunt.”
“Will do.” Steve waved again and pulled away.
Dillon headed back toward the large bay door that opened into the feed room of Coldspring Feed Co-op, his place of employment since his third day in town, back in 1980. Dillon enjoyed his job. He was constantly busy, and he worked from sunup to sundown, even though the owner, Bobby Banks, told him not to. Dillon didn’t care if he didn’t get paid for the extra hours. He just wanted to stay busy. When he wasn’t working or sleeping, he spent his time guarding local herds from coyotes for the farmers. It gave his wolf time to run and hunt, which kept it in a somewhat less cranky mood. To say Dillon’s wolf was unhappy was an understatement. His wolf craved a pack. Wolves weren’t meant to be lone creatures. But Dillon wasn’t ready to go back to his pack or be a part of any pack, for that matter.
He glanced at his watch. One hour til closing time. This time of day, there seemed to be an influx of female customers. At first, the women coming in would only surreptitiously glance at him. But as the weeks passed, they started getting bolder until some of them walked right up to him and handed him their number on a piece of paper. After that, Dillon started staying in the back. Bobby didn’t mind, although he said it was amusing to watch the women make spectacles of themselves. Dillon didn’t find it funny in the least. And his wolf was flat out offended—females throwing themselves at him like dogs in heat.
