Tuesday just stared at him while Willow asked him, “Does that mean you know who the mystery wolf is?”
Since Willow hadn’t said anything to Tuesday about scenting him, that meant the whole damned pack knew not to mention him. There are no secrets in a pack.
Knife had told her he knew Silas. Who else knew Knife well enough to pick up who they were scenting?
She glared at Silas, and he said, “Secret’s safe with me, but be careful.”
Later, when the party had softened into the loose, late-evening drift of people who weren’t ready to leave yet, her grandmother found her sitting on a boulder a little away from the house, and she climbed up and sat beside her.
“Do you want to talk about it?” her grandmother asked.
Tuesday looked across the ceremony grounds, the tree line going dark at the edge of the grass, and saw movementinside the forest. Probably a squirrel, but this time of the evening it might be a raccoon.
“No,” she said. “But thank you.”
Her grandmother nodded and reached over to pat her hand once, and they sat together in the quiet.
Because no one could help Tuesday figure this one out. Did she love him more than she loved the pack? Because it was becoming clear to her, she was going to have to choose. The one man she couldn’t have was the one who happened to be her very own soul mate.
And no amount of talking or crying was going to change that.
Life isn’t fair, and whining about it doesn’t change anything, but she’dchangedto wolf and back Thursday, and then again that morning.
If he was still under her skin, that was a problem.
- - -?- - -
Knife walked down the block with Duke, Brain, Bubbles, Dozer, and a prospect, on their way to old Mrs. Johnson’s house, each carrying a load of supplies. The day promised to be hot and muggy, but better than a storm that restricted them to their indoor tasks.
Mrs. Johnson had lived on this street longer than most of them had been alive. She sat on her porch most days, watching the world turn, and wasalwaysfull of gossip. A few times a year, they brought food — to keep her from feeding them — and handled basic household maintenance andupkeep for her. They all adored her, and often went inside to open jars for her, unstick a window, or whatever else she needed.
She was waiting on the porch for them, and her sharp eyes watched Dozer set the ladder up so he could clean her gutters. “Ya’ll are such nice men. I don’t know what I’d do without all of you.”
They followed her in, and Knife put the food in the fridge and walked straight to her smoke alarm to change the battery while he noted her sink was dripping. Again. Duke had brought a whole new fixture this time, rather than just trying to change out washers and such.
Knife listened to Brain get started teaching her about her new phone. Her old one would no longer hold a charge, so the club had bought her a new one, made by the same manufacturer so it’d be the smallest learning curve possible. Brain already had it set up for her, to make teaching her how to use it as simple and streamlined as he could manage.
Knife went outside to trim her bushes, talking shit with Bubbles while they worked.
When he finished the bushes, he added screws to the railing leading down her steps to stop the slight wobble he felt, and he heard a loud sound followed by Duke shouting a string ofmotherfucker damn shit fuck!
Old Mrs. Johnson said, “Oh, heavens! Are you okay, Duke?”
“I’m fine,” Duke growled, and then softened his voice to add, “Wrench slipped.”
He didn’t sound fine, he sounded aggravated and still in pain, and Knife laughed.
“Our venerable leader,” Bubbles said from the top of the ladder, “beaten by an unwitting pipe wrench.” He blew out a breath. “We’re going to need to consider replacing some of this fascia next time. Might not hurt to organize another painting party next summer, too.”
Knife nodded, driving the last screw home. The railing felt solid now. These small fixes weren’t glamorous, just men helping someone who did her best to help their not-so-small family. She’d recognized early on that the club was keeping out the riff-raff, and she’d jumped right in to be a good neighbor to them. To help out despite the fact it put her in danger, at first.
So of course the club had adopted her as a grandmotherly neighbor. This wasn’t the kind of family you were born into, but the one you choose, and then keep choosing. Week after week. Year after year.
He’d been a lone wolf for the first time ever when he’d left the mountain, and he’d lucked into meeting the club while he was camping in the North Georgia mountains, trying to figure out how to exist without a pack before he went to a city to find work. He knew he’d be able to get a job as a butcher without a problem, but not until he got his bearings as a wolf without a pack.
And what were the odds the men he met would be looking for someone to run a slaughterhouse they were thinking of building? It was The Universe taking care of him. No question.
So how could he walk away from them for a woman?
