That wasn’t normal, was it? It couldn’t be.
But Lydia acted like it was. She listened without even letting herself show a trace of impatience or incredulity. To Case’s astonishment, she calmed both father and son down, got Sean to agree to try a little harder, and led Dan to the admission that he was really proud of his son—“And I think you have a really good vocabulary, essentially,” Dan said almost tearfully. “You’re going to do great on the PSATs”—which made Sean turn red with embarrassment. Everything was fine (until the next time a teenager did something teenager-y, Case was guessing), and Lydia gently herded them out the door.
She was a wolf, but the pack had her acting like more of a sheepdog. That was fine if that was what she wanted, but Case wasn’t sure it was, especially since Lydia immediately dropped down onto her bed afterwards, slumping back against the headboard.
He put his arm around her. It was still a little unreal to him that he could do that and that she would always cuddle up to him, tucking her head against his shoulder with a pleasant little rumble in her throat that was oddly purr-like for a wolf.
It felt right, sitting in bed with her like this. He had always liked people and gotten along well with them, but he was still a bit of an introvert at heart, someone who had to go off by himself to recharge. Social situations always took a little out of him. But Lydia didn’t. Being with her was restful and peaceful. He only hoped he could make her feel the same way.
Lydia did need some relief, even if she didn’t think so. She needed Case to be a cool breeze across her overheated mind.
Because even if Reeve was gone, the pack still needed a lot of help. If tonight was any indication, Case had to say they needed a littletoomuch.
It wasn’t their fault. Horace had basically spelled the it out for him: the problem was that Ruth had, with the best of intentions, run the small mountain village like her own private fiefdom. As far as Case could tell, there had even been a time when that kind of approach had been, if not exactlynecessary, then at least helpful. Mountainview had gone through some tough times, and Ruth had been a pillar of strength. Of course everyone had relied on her, and of course they were now relying on Lydia, who was just as tough and even more openly caring.
But the circumstances had changed. And even though the town was happy to help out when it came to Case’s wolf lessons, they seemed to feel helpless when it came to anything else. Even when they wanted to do something, they were told it was too dangerous for them to interfere. They weren’t even encouraged to resolve their own family squabbles. Everyone was still acting like Mountainview was on the verge of catastrophe, something only a strong leader could help them survive, and Case couldn’t see any sign that that was actuallytrue.
It was still struggling a little, economically, but Case had seen a lot of small towns. If someone could keep an adorable bakery open, things couldn’t betoobad.
And again, the village had options. Wendy wanted to open that B&B, and she would have done it a long time ago if Ruth hadn’t kept blocking her on it. Their shifter-related secrets weren’t that hard to keep. He’d been here two weeks now, and yes, that wasn’t that long, but it was long enough that he would have noticed if people in town had made a habit of prowling around downtown in wolf form. And they didn’t, because Mountainview already had a few residents who weren’t in the pack and didn’t even know it existed, and it had always been fine. Keeping that up shouldn’t be a problem.
And everything else ....
Alphas were good at organizing the community. If your son was late getting home and wasn’t answering his phone, an alpha wolf would have the whole pack out looking for him. Alphas could run charity programs. They were—at least within their packs—a universally recognized authority, so they could even settle heated feuds that needed to be dealt with so life could continue on a smooth course. Case understood all of that.Morethan understood it—the wolf inside himrespondedto it, falling into the co-alpha-in-training role alongside Lydia. He felt an allegiance to the pack and a strong desire to help it. He would fight for it and even die for it, if he had to.
He just didn’t want to die for dishwashers. He didn’t think anyone would blame him for that.
“I like solving problems that need solving,” she said, like she knew what Case was thinking, “but ones like that wring me out. I feel bad. They’re good people.”
“They’re good people,” Case agreed, “but what the hellwasthat? Why were they coming to you—”
“Us,” Lydia said with a grin.
He couldn’t help grinning back at that. True. They were a team, in this and in everything else, and the pack didn’t haveany problems recognizing that. They’d welcomed Case with open arms.
That was another reason he liked Mountainview and wanted to help them. But he wanted to give them help that actually mattered, and he didn’t want them to swamp Lydia with requests that were slowly taking the life out of her.
“Us. Why were they coming to us about loading a dishwasher?”
Lydia blinked at him, puzzled. “Because it’s a dispute.”
“It’s a dishwasher.”
She laughed like he’d made a joke, not just pointed out the obvious. “Yeah, it’s kind of a silly dispute, but it’s still a dispute. They always bring those to their alphas. Technically, they should be taking them to Ruth, but she’s not up for this kind of thing anymore.”
“But she used to be?”
“Sure,” Lydia said, back to being puzzled. “It’s the job.”
A job neither Ruth nor Lydia had ever gotten paid for, as far as Case could tell. Unlike being mayor, being alpha didn’t come with a salary or even a stipend. Someone like Reeve couldforcethe job to pay, by leveraging the power that came with it, but all Ruth and Lydia had was responsibility.
Was this a wolf thing he didn’t understand yet?
I don’t think so, his wolf said.It seems weird to me too.
“Do other packs work like this too, or is it more of a Mountainview thing?”
Lydia’s puzzlement turned more contemplative. “I don’t know, actually. I mean, it’s not like we get a set of rules about it from the Overpack. It’s tradition, that’s all. This is the way Ruth always handled things, and now I feel like people expect it. They need it.”
