He loosens up and relaxes.
I hope my walls crashing down completely don’t disturb his moment of peace.
Chapter THIRTY
Jay
It’s the middle of the night, but I’m wide awake. My feelings for Caleb haunt me, keeping sleep at bay. I tip-toe downstairs to the kitchen for a late-night snack.
Soft sobs meet my ears as I enter the hall. “Hello? Is someone there?”
I scan the space, trying to pinpoint the source. Slowly, I creep down the hall toward the kitchen. Upon entering, I find a woman.
Her elbows rest on the kitchen table, and she sobs into her hands. In front of her is half a sandwich on a plate, collecting her tears.
I stop in the doorway. “Are–are you okay?”
The woman peers up at me through her hands. With bloodshot, puffy and red eyes, she must have been crying.
She sucks in a breath through her quivering bottom lip and wipes her eyes. Sniffling, she says, “Uh... no,” She laughs. “But it’s fine. I’ll be okay. Thank you.”
“You don’t seem fine.”
She sighs. “It’s nothing, it’s—” The woman glances at her plate and averts her gaze, laughing at herself. She opens her napkin and dabs her cheeks and under eyes, then she sniffles again. “It’s stupid. So stupid.”
She takes a deep breath, and the waterworks start again.
I approach her and gesture to the bench across from her. “May I?”
She nods.
I take a seat.
“It’s this sandwich. After years of cooking for two, you forget how to cook for one. I used to always give my other half to him.”
This must be Caleb’s mom, Bloodhound’s luna.
“Do you want it?”
“Thank you, but I don’t eat meat.”
“A werewolf who doesn’t eat meat? That’s... unusual.”
“It’s . . . a long story,” I say.
No, it’s not. It’s simple: I’ve seen mauled flesh so many times I can’t look at meat the same anymore. A choice I made that’s meant further limiting food options for myself, especially in the winter when there wasn’t much to gather. But she probably doesn’t want to hear about that.
“I’d like to hear it.”
I could tell her every horrible thing I was forced to do, how I remember them all—but instead, I shake my head. “Another time.”
“Well, thank you for listening. I think I’m going to head on upstairs for a nap.” She struggles to stand, and her arms shake as she lifts from the table.
“Do you want some help?”
“No, no, I got it.” She finally stands completely, and the moment she straightens, she collapses again.
I grab her arms, stopping her fall. “I gotcha.”
