‘You’re too late,’ Wyn said easily, stroking my face before walking over to the door and clapping an ashen-faced Jackson on the back. ‘Em already called this one.’
‘Unless you want it,’ I said quickly. ‘I don’t really care.’
‘It’s all good,’ he replied, the muscle in his jaw twitching.
With one hand still on Jackson’s back, Wyn gently but firmly pushed him out of my room.
‘I’ll be next door,’ he said. ‘Remember, holler if you need me.’
With a tense nod, I let him close the door, the two of them leaving side by side, and me, all alone.
Chapter Twenty-Two
Hilton Head was beautiful. At Lydia’s insistence, we left Ileen Stovell’s house behind, albeit with great reluctance, taking four bikes from the garage and setting off to explore the island. The ocean still pulled at me, tugging at my arm like a persistent child, but things had changed since the last time it tried to steal me away. That was before my Becoming. Now, although it was still dizzying when we got too close to the rippling waves, I was able to resist its tempting call.
Grand homes hidden behind stately oaks gave way to wide, white-sand beaches as we rolled through the town, dotted with navy-blue umbrellas and swarms of people, all of them radiating joy and contentment. Wyn held back, letting Lydia and I ride side by side, her effervescent commentary running at its usual mile-a-minute pace. Jackson rode out ahead of the rest of us, burning off energy I couldn’t summon for myself. This place positively demanded a lazy pace and my cute pink bike with its little wicker basket and streamers flying from the handlebars wasn’t exactly built for speed.
‘And she was in a foul temper for the rest of the day,’ Lydia said, sticking her legs out to the side as we coasted down the slightest of hills. ‘I asked if there was something wrong with her food but she said it was fine. Probably something Jeremy did.’
‘Did to who?’
A crack in the bike path jolted me back into the conversation. I couldn’t see Jackson anymore but his black mood hung over me like a raincloud.
‘My mom. I just said, she was acting so strange yesterday after we left the park. Did the food upset your stomach at all? Can’t think what else it could’ve been.’
‘I was fine.’
I chose not to consider how her mom’s bad mood might be related to anything I’d said or done. If Alex was upset with me too, that made three out of four members of the Powell family I’d pissed off without trying. Pretty impressive by anyone’s standards.
‘Probably coming down with a case of the Virginias,’ Lydia said gloomily. ‘It was only a matter of time.’
I gave her a sideways grin. ‘Does that mean you’ll eventually turn into your grandmother too?’
‘Wash your mouth out before I feed you to an alligator,’ she replied with the greatest indignance.
‘Alligators?’ I repeated, almost wobbling off the bike path and into the creek that ran alongside us as my best friend cackled. ‘Not funny.’
‘Not joking. Better watch where you’re going.’
‘Hey, Em, Lydia!’
Wyn cycled up in between us, his tanned skin glistening, muscles moving under his skin as he turned the pedals.
‘I missed a call from my gramps,’ he said. ‘Y’all go on ahead, I’ll catch you up.’
Lydia gave a salute. ‘Roger that. We’ll be at the Salty Dog, ’bout ten minutes dead ahead.’
He nodded and slowed to a standstill. As Lydia and I rolled on, leaving him behind, I glanced over my shoulder to see him resting his bike against a tree, phone pressed to his ear. I knew it was about the lone wolf. A chill tiptoed down my sun-warmed back.
‘You know I would never objectify another human being,’ Lydia said, well before we were out of earshot. ‘But damn, girl. Was he always so …’ She scrunched up her face as she searched for the right descriptor. ‘Big?’
‘No,’ I replied, eyes fixed on the path in front. ‘No, he was not.’
The last time I’d seen Wyn shirtless, he was recovering from his first phase, bloody and broken in my bed. This was a very different experience. It wasn’t like he was skinny or anything a month ago, he’d always had the body of someone who spent a lot of time outdoors, but when he walked into the Stovells’ kitchen shirtless, I’d almost tripped over my own feet. While Jackson’s muscles were gym-honed, designed for sports and speed, Wyn looked like he could run through a brick wall and smash it into pieces. A set of strong-looking shoulders sat atop a broad chest, his torso tapering into a slender waist that disappeared into a pair of khaki cargo shorts that strained around the top of his tree trunk-sized legs.
‘Not that he was a twig or anything, but whatever he’s doing, I’m into it. Wish I could get my ass to pop like that.’
‘I don’t think you’d like the workout regimen,’ I said, almost swerving off the path when a cat skipped out from behind a patch of ferns. ‘It mostly involves turning into a wolf once every twenty-eight days.’
