Why did I leave the one person left who loved me? She was a kid back then, mourning her brother. I was so wrapped up in my grief that I didn’t think about how I’d be leaving her behind.
The memory of her lip gloss and tear-stained face brings me to a halt like a bear claw to the eye. I remember us hugging each other when the news finally broke. She cried nearly as hard as I did. I remember petting her hair and holding her tight as if it was only us left in the world, and then in the next moment, I was gone. I should’ve stayed but I... but I couldn’t stay in Kaler City anymore.
I hadn’t even put her number as a contact in my phone. Going back to my recent calls list, I see her number and our three-minute conversation. Clicking on the number, I try not to give myself too much time to back out.
“Willow?”
“Layla, we need to talk,” I say as she answers the phone. I stood in the middle of the parking lot, stuck in my thoughts. It's no wonder someone broke into my apartment if I am such a ditz in public like this. I’m an easy target. I scan the parking lot. It’s probably safer to go inside. Much safer since I have no idea what’s going on in my life right now.
Walking into the store, I wait for her to respond, wanting to hear her voice again, even if she’s yelling at me. I miss the cub. I bite my lip, realizing I miss her a lot.
“Willow, I know I scared you yesterday, but?—”
“Scared me? Layla, you accused me of killing my mate.”
“I know. I just—it’s nasty, and I shouldn’t have said that. I know you didn’t kill Milo, but I thought that if I angered you enough, in the heat of it, you’d give me your address so we could talk.”
“You could’ve simply asked me,” I say, in awe that she’d think I wouldn’t want her to find me.
“How? I had a hell of a time getting your phone number, let alone finding out where you live. You left me, Willow. You didn’t want me—I got you had a lot going on, but I needed you. I still need you.”
She needed me? Layla needs me? “Why do you need me, Layla? What’s wrong?”
“I’m just—I need a place to stay for a few, please,” she begs.
“Of course, you can stay with me as long as you don’t think I killed your brother,” I say, waiting for her to confirm she doesn’t really think that.
“I don’t. I swear I don’t.”
“I’m about thirty minutes away from Kaler City. Can you get here?” I ask before giving her my apartment address.
“I can get there. Thanks, Willow. You have no idea how much I need this,” she says before hanging up. I pause my pacing in between the cash registers and the bathroom and slide my phone back into my purse.
I should ask more questions. I should question the heck out of her. Is she even old enough to move out of her parent’s house? What do her parents think about this? But even after all these years, I trust Layla is, well, Layla. She may not be the little fifteen-year-old following Milo and me around the mall or eating the food we were trying to prepare instead of helping us in the kitchen anymore. But she’s still Milo’s little sister, and she’s still practicallymysister.
I couldn’t let her hang out to dry again. Not knowingly. Not this time. Whatever she needs, I can help her with.
I beeline to the aisle where my beloved bags of tea leaves are. I try to keep my eyes focused on the target and not let the chocolates and cakes in the next aisle distract me. My bear—my lovely, sweets-loving bear I share my body with—is itching for me to turn my head to the left and take five steps to surround myself with desserts. I don’t disagree with the animal in me. Cake slices did pair nicely with tea, but I need to focus. I am here for one thing and one thing only.
I don’t break my stride until the yellow box holding rows of my desired good glares at me from its display at the end of the aisle. Walking up to the display table, I observe the boxes. I never pick the first box in a row or a box that is damaged. If I am paying full price for something, it better be in the best condition possible.
I can’t help myself. I run my hand over the boxes, picking them up one by one and inspecting each box. I take my sweet time—my earlier need to rush is long gone as I becomeconsumed with picking the right box. I can’t deny my eyes from tracking to the desserts peeking at me from the next aisle. I can hear the dings and swooshes of my bank account, and I play with the possibility of being broke forever. Those cakes do sound good right about now, but now I’m only wasting time.
Finally, picking the perfect box, I twist on my heel and head towards the self-checkout. I’m going to be a good girl and deny me and my bear by not stopping by the sweet treats. I am going to pay for this box and go to work. That is the plan until, of course, the toe of my heel catches on the table leg of the tea display. Yellow boxes go flying. Wind and embarrassment caress my face as I make my way down, falling face-first towards the floor. At least, I was headed towards the ground until a strong hand wraps around my arm and yanks me up, straight into a chest.
“Are you okay?” a smoky voice asks as I crash into the chest of whoever saved me from having to deal with bruises on my soul and on my physical body.
Glancing over my shoulder, I see the mess I made and all the attention I am drawing. Gosh. How embarrassing. Gulping, I stare at the man I am currently standing incredibly close to. Only my squished arms separate our bodies.
“Umm, yeah. Thanks,” I mutter, taking a step back. I focus my attention on the yellow boxes littered on the floor. Only a few fell off the table, but my heated cheeks don’t know the difference. Bending at my waist, I pick up the fallen boxes, making sure to keep the one I selected separate from the now damaged boxes. The mysterious hero bends to pick up the boxes too. As much as I want to tell him he doesn’t have to help me, my embarrassment wouldn’t let any more words out of my throat. Constricted by too much emotion, I hold back the mountain building in my throat as I turn to clean up my mess. I’m hyperaware of his presence. Not because I’m scared, but becauseI’m—I’m not sure why. I finally look up at his face, and shock colors my face.
“Eddie Enchanted?” I ask, even though I know exactly who he is.
“Willow, how nice to see your sweet behind again. Tripping over tea boxes?” My mysterious hero is Eddie Enchanted. The same man who saved me from falling in this same store a couple of months ago. The same man who I tried to keep as much distance from while working alongside his Pack to save my best friend. The same man who made me question everything I thought I knew about, well, good smelling shifters.
Scents can be signs of mates for shifters. Milo smelled of lemons. Fresh and tasty, and I loved the way he smelled. I’d walk close to him just to catch a whiff of his scent. It was perfect on a hot summer day. Eddie though, Eddie’s scent is different.
I first met Eddie in this grocery store months ago, and I could smell him distinctly. His scent came to me before I saw him. Enticing me. My instinct was to follow his delicious scent around the whole store, and that’s when I ran into a freezer door and he pulled me back, steadying me and lighting my skin on fire.
