“Because...wolves mate for life?” I try, stabbing in the dark, wincing internally at myself because some Discovery Channel-esque, and probably outdated, factoid cannot be it.
Jenny rolls her eyes. “It’s a sin, darling.”
I blink two or three more times. I keep forgetting that people can still be that intensity of Catholic. I don’t really know what to reply, because I’m still technically at work right now and it wouldn’t be good to express actual thoughts on the clock.
I’m chewing on my lip as I lead her to the table that has her little name card sitting on the bread plate, as she continues, “Besides, there’s nothing left to divorce in a feral wolf. They can’t change back. They’re gone.”
One day she didn’t come back,I remember Shawn saying.
I hear his voice nearby and let go of Aunt Jenny’s arm. I flash her the briefest of parting smiles and depart with an incoherent muttering about being needed somewhere, something like that.
Have I ever seen Shawn fully? In a way where all the inconsistencies and contradictions meet back together, not just a guy who wanted to make me his world, not just a wolf ready to sink his teeth in.
I can see everything that was missing before, the way I was a part of this equation. Our vulnerabilities, the ways we mirrored each other were the things that brought us together initially, and the reasons we pulled back.
I always felt like being married to him was too good to be true, that he couldn’t truly love me. That he was out of my league, and I couldn’t ever hope to really have him, that I’d have to settle for getting my heart broken bit by bit every month or so.That I was so starved for love of any kind, that I would put up with that.
Every month or so. God. The werewolf thing really does clear up most of my questions, now that I think about it. Not that it changes anything about how his family treated me...I mean, maybe it does. I don’t know. Maybe we all need one big therapy session.
My heart is thundering in my chest as I return to the kitchen. My head is spinning with my emotions, but I know one thing for certain, I need to find Shawn and talk to him.
24
Shawn
I am doing my goddamn best, and it’s not going to be enough.
The full moon sits high overhead, pale and nearly invisible in the sky, watching every single time I get too close to Elise, apparently. It bristles under my skin every time I so much as hear her voice, and it’s always my name on her lips, always asking if anyone knows where I am.
She’s been hounding me all morning. I don’t know how I’m going to make it through the next few hours, honestly.
The Hayes House has never felt as small, or quite so constricting, as it does right now.
Some of the Carringtons have already started to arrive, and I am hoping to avoid them as much as possible. Too many wolves in one place during the night of the full moon. Not to mention, if any of them remember me from when I still had to attend church over a decade ago, I don’t want to have to explain my absence while simultaneously receiving derision for being a lapsed Catholic.
Guests fill the house, meandering in the living room and the foyer, a couple of townies I recognize are dressed in black, button-down shirts carrying trays of hors d’oeuvres around.
When I stand on the other side of the lawn, as far away from her as I can get without leaving the property, I feel a little morelike a normal person. I can remember that I’m at my brother’s wedding for a moment, that this is what I came home for.
There’s been a few people here and there that I’ve talked to, mostly my more distant cousins. Some of my older relatives have pretty much ignored me, some are confused that I’m here at all. Only two have asked after my excommunication. It doesn’t hurt the way I thought I’d have to brace myself for it. Then again, my priorities have been somewhat shuffled by this week’s events.
No one’s gone feral, we’re all here,I remind myself.
All the unrest in my stomach is butterflies for my brother’s special day, even if it feels maybe more like termites gnawing at my insides. It still feels like I fucking might. I can’t imagine what else is making me want to crawl out of my skin.
My mom planned the dinner area to be closest to the kitchen, so food could go swiftly in and out as needed.
“...It’s mostly a matter of putting things in the oven and then plating them.” Elise’s voice carries from the kitchen, and I have to dig my heels in the lawn to keep from just gravitating over there. Despite the majority of the prep being finished beforehand, she doesn’t seem any amount less stressed about it.
I can barely stand to look at any of the food. Never mind that it’s probably Michelin-star-worthy and smells delicious, but the thought of eating anything makes me a little sick right now.
A foreboding lurks something terrible in my gut, an anticipation that won’t leave.
I make the mistake of turning around when I get a wisp of her scent on the wind. A loose tendril of her hair drifts on the air, beckoning me over. The wind slows and the curl rests on her shoulder, and all I can think of is putting my mouth thereinstead. I think I might be salivating over the little droplets of sweat gathered on her neck under her bun.
She looks like utter perfection. The black fabric comes all the way up to her collar, and the straps on her shoulders are only an inch or so wide, nothing for my claws. She looks very professional, and I just want to go over there and run my hands all over her.
I feel like I could shift at any moment, like even after last night’s close call, morning never came.
