People were depending on me to step up, and I wasn’t.
“Cut it out,” Jim said so only I would hear. “Guilt’s meant for troublemakers like me, not poster boys like you.”
I didn’t respond as Winifred continued.
“Almost all werewolves belong to a pack. However, some werewolves choose to live on their own. Those we call Forlorn. They can still hear the Elders and have the same compulsion to obey, but they follow no pack leader.”
“So Emmitt’s mom is the pack leader?” Michelle asked.
That made me smile. Mom would have laughed.
“Technically, no. Emmitt’s father is the leader. But, Charlene influences the pack in her own right.”
Michelle was quiet for a moment.
“Where in there does biting become involved?”
Winifred coughed to cover her laugh, Jim laughed outright, but I didn’t laugh at all.
Winifred, I didn’t say a thing about biting. Ask Jim if he did.
There was a pause before she confirmed he hadn’t either.
“Can I ask where these questions are coming from?” Winifred asked Michelle.
“Just curious. Maybe we should eat lunch.”
Michelle was obviously trying to change the subject.
I’m worried, I sent to Winifred.
I think you are right to be. I’m considering sending out a message to all werewolves asking for someone to step forward if they’ve shared information with a human or heard of someone sharing information with a human.
Let’s hold off on that. There will be questions, and Michelle isn’t ready for attention from any more of our kind.
Very well.
* * * *
After we got home from the lake, Michelle and the boys stayed in her apartment for the rest of the night. Restless, I went upstairs and continued my work across the hall. It didn’t take long for Jim to join me. While I painted, he leaned against the island cabinets I’d installed and sipped one of the beers he’d brought with him.
“Spit it out,” I said after a long silence.
“Why? It’s good beer.”
I shook my head and grinned. I’d forgotten just how much he goofed around.
“You know what I think?” he said.
“That we should go to the bar and drink a week’s wages in an effort to get drunk?”
He laughed. “That would have been my thought if Winifred hadn’t threatened to command me never to drink alcohol if I ‘wasted pack money’ like that again.”
“Ouch.” I moved to paint under the hanging cabinets.
“Yeah. Did you know she commanded me to go a whole day without eating?”
I stopped painting to look at him. His expression was entirely serious, and I couldn’t tell if he was lying.
“She wouldn’t do that.”
“She would if she wanted me to learn what it felt like to be compelled to do something that I was completely against doing.” He shrugged. “Training exercise.”
“And, how was it?”
“I nearly died,” he said before tipping back his beer.
“Doubt it.”
“She baked all day. I could smell the cookies. I could see the cookies. I could even touch the damn things. But I couldn’t bring myself to put them in my mouth. Man, I wanted to. I really did.”
He cracked open another beer.
“When my time was up and I could eat again, I nearly ripped her door off trying to get to the cookies.”
“Bet she had something to say about that.”
“Yep. She did. Just like Michelle will when she finally gives you the go-ahead to have her cookies. Don’t let your obsession control you, Emmitt, or it will drive her away.”
I stared at him, really seeing my brother and what he had to offer.
“When did you get to be so damn smart?”
“If you ask Winifred, I’m not.” He grinned, then sauntered out the door. I stayed in the apartment, working until exhaustion won out over my need to be close to Michelle.
The next day, Michelle brought Liam and Aden out to play. They ran for the sprinkler, but she was pensively quiet as she sat on the porch. Considering everything she’d been through in such a short time, I left her to her thoughts and played in the water with the boys.
The following day, I twitched with what I felt was a growing distance between us. After Jim left for work, I went upstairs to the new apartment. It was coming along nicely. Another week or two and it would be ready for Michelle and the boys. Then, I’d be living right across the hall.
Around seven, I heard the boys run down the steps, and Aden came back up crying not long afterward.
Problem? I sent Winifred.
He wanted to play with Jim. They’re growing bored.
I can come play.
No, I think it would be best for you to finish the apartment. I have a better idea to keep them busy.
I went back to grouting the backsplash in the kitchen and listened to Michelle negotiate with Aden to calm him down. A few minutes later, Winifred knocked on Michelle’s door.
“Good morning, Michelle. Liam mentioned he didn’t know the ABC song. Would you mind if they spent some time with me a few days a week so I can work on their alphabet with them?”
Silence greeted the question.
“There’s nothing wrong with them not knowing their ABCs, yet. Four and five is just the right age to start learning. I have so many of my old materials left, and, frankly, I miss working with children. I thought I would offer.”
“I need to make cookies,” Aden said firmly.
I could just picture him crossing his arms in a stubborn stance and grinned.
“I’ll send him down when we’re done,” Michelle said.
Since both the apartment doors were open, I heard the two of them make the dough and Aden tromp downstairs when his part was done. Michelle quietly put the cookies in the oven, and heat began to drift into the hall. Even with the windows open, it was growing too hot to work inside. I finished grouting the tiles on the bathroom floor then went to gather what I needed to paint the exterior. I figured I’d start with the third floor and work my way down.
When I stepped out onto the porch, I found Michelle lying on her stomach on a blanket. She looked up at me with a smile. The usual t-shirt she wore over her suit was missing. I swallowed hard at the sight of all that honeyed skin and almost dropped half the painting supplies.
She jumped and offered to help me. I barely noticed surrendering two cans of paint because I was staring at the prettiest bikini top that ever existed. My mind went into overdrive imagining what lay beneath.
She lifted a can. “What are you doing with all of this?”
With effort, I met her gaze. My head was fuzzy, and my ears were ringing. It was like her chest had a gravitational pull on my eyes. They wanted to drift down again. Sweat coated my forehead. I hoped my teeth weren’t getting longer. Her expectant gaze had me scrambling to recall what she’d asked. The supplies. Right.
“The outside needs painting, too. I thought I’d start on it while the paint dried in there.”
My voice was rough with need, and I hoped she wouldn’t notice. My worry broke my concentration, and I looked down. It wasn’t that I was a sex-starved pervert—I mean, I was that too—but there was more to this pull than that. Every new inch I saw, every fact I discovered about her past, it all just made me crave more. More Michelle. More time together. More of a relationship than what we had now. And, if I wanted more, I needed to play it cooler than I was. Just like Jim had said.