I shrug. I didn't do anything. And I have the urge to tell them they didn't need to hold my hand and make a spectacle of us. According to Beep, whatever magic we bring, it's already here. I don't have to do anything special.
But after glancing around the room, seeing everyone watching—staring—at me, I offer a tight, self-deprecating smile. "It's all good."
I want to slap my forehead, but fortunately, they don't look at me like I'm a callous idiot. They offer to buy me whatever I want, and it takes Kellen stepping in and ushering them off to save me. Doc comes to my other side as we stare up at the menu again.
"That was very kind of you."
I shift uncomfortably. "All these people were watching. Is that going to start happening now? I don't like people fawning over me, Doc." I try to keep my voice down, forgetting for a moment that every wolf can hear me complain.
But maybe that's for the better.
Doc must agree because he doesn't shush me. "Possibly. But we can do our best to support you. Remember what Hilde said about the groceries? She'd deliver for you, so you'd have some space and could come down and visit with the wolves when you wanted. Otherwise, you might feel overwhelmed. We're out in public, in town—" he gestures around the cafe. "So people might feel like this is you giving permission to approach you. But no one would be offended if you pulled away. Your omega magic is with us now, regardless."
I'm not going to pull away. I'm not an asshole.
But I'll keep in mind reactions like these whenever I get the urge to come socialize in public from now on.
Finally, I give the menu the attention it deserves. I settle on a blueberry muffin, but order nearly one of everything to take home. My mates will eat it later.
Thinking of them makes me smile. So I'm in a good mood when Doc asks if I'd like to meet Lily's mother. He points out a woman who looks about Hilde's age—in human years, so I have no idea how old she actually is—but she has streaks of gray in her brown hair and big brown eyes, and seems eager to meet me.
I swallow the discomfort and the urge, yet again, to tell this woman that I'm an imposter, and holding my hand won't solve her problems.
But as we make our way down the bakery case toward the back of the cafe so I can meet the family, I notice a picture on the wall.
It's framed in a prominent place, right where the hinged counter divides the cafe from the customers and employees-only sides.
There's nothing special about the frame. It looks like something bought at a craft store. Big, though, especially for a headshot.
Which is why it's so easy to see.
To make out the woman's features. To take in her smile, the curve of her lips, the shape of her eyes. Even the color of her hair, though I'm used to seeing it matted and stringy. Dirty and sweaty.
I'm used to seeing her naked and scared and hurting. Starving.
I gasp.
My hand snatches onto Doc's arm, my fingertips curling into claws, digging into his flesh while I stare at the picture.
He's saying my name, repeating it over and over, but it's underwater. Everything, all the sound is drowning.
How could I have felt jealousy?
Shame washes over me. All I can see is her. Her smiling face, full cheeks, bright eyes. I can feel the warmth of her family's love all around me.
And I can see her in that room.
That fucking prison cell.
How could I have feltjealousof her?
"It's her," I cry. "It's her."
"The picture? Mona, what's happening? You look like you've seen a ghost."
My eyes shoot to Doc's. I don't mean to, but my fist curls his shirt at his chest and I nearly shove him into the wall. "Who is that?" I snarl, pointing at the photo.
"That's Lily. She's the missing shifter."
