by T. S. Joyce
When the bell above the door dinged, Leah looked up from checking her phone for a text message from Ethan for the four-millionth time to find a delivery worker holding a package and heading her way. “Leah Hawthorne?” he asked.
“The one and only,” she said.
“Thank God there’s only one of you,” Billy muttered from the kitchen. Unkind.
“I’ve got a package for you. Sign here.” The man handed her a little computer and a stick pen, and she signed her name.
“Thanks,” she called as he bustled out of the restaurant.
Life had been really boring without Ethan, and this was the most exciting thing that had happened since he left. Just the vision of his tail lights disappearing into the woods at her house made her sad, and she wasn’t a sad person in general, so she pushed those thoughts out of her head and tore into the package.
“Whoa!” she exclaimed as she pulled the dress from the box. It was the same material and pattern as the lumpy, boxy, cheap uniform she wore, but it was fitted at the waist and had fuller skirts, better stitching, everything.
Grinning, she set it down and ripped through the tissue paper until she found a small card.
You’re not alone.
Ethan
You’re not alone. All the sadness she’d been keeping at bay all week with positive energy, keeping busy, chick flicks, and ice-cream dinners suddenly washed through her, and her eyes blurred with tears. With a little whimper, she hugged the dress to her chest.
She sure felt alone.
“Are you okay?” Billy asked from right beside her.
She couldn’t talk, though, or she would burst into sobs. Her heart felt so many things. Ethan was still thinking about her like she was thinking about him, and now it would be even harder to move on.
“Hey,” Billy said, squeezing her shoulder. “I’ve never seen you be anything but obnoxious. What’s going on?”
“That one-night stand? Hypothetically, this ho misses the boy that left.”
“Well, hypothetically, I don’t think you’re a ho then. Also, I’m pretty sure we’re using the word ‘hypothetically’ all wrong.”
“Hypothetically, I think you’re right,” she drawled out in a pathetic tone.
Her phone vibrated on the counter, and the screen lit up with the number that had texted her to help Ethan last week. She’d memorized it because the last two numbers were 69.
“Hello,” she answered in a rush.
But the gruff, “Hey, human,” on the other line wasn’t Ethan’s voice. “Incoming. Dry your tears and pull yourself together. You’re already in deeper than you know. Play nice if you want to see him again.”
“Wait, is that a threat? Is Ethan okay?”
“Ethan was never okay.”
The line clicked.
“Hello? Hello?” Crap, he’d hung up. Who was that guy? Maybe it was his brother, Brandon. Or Rike, as he now went by. She’d been doing a little light stalking this week, trying to find out everything about Ethan and where he might be. What? She’d already admitted she was a stage-five clinger. It was one of her charms.
A lady walked in through the front door. She was about Leah’s age with platinum blond hair and skin almost as white as a sheet. She was albino. And when she took off her cherry-red sunglasses, her eyes were too bright green to be human.
Uh oh.
Play nice if you want to see him again. What the hell was happening?
In a rush, Leah wiped her tears on the dress and plastered a smile on her face. “Welcome to the Hamburger Shack! What can I do you for?”
“Uh, are you this girl?” the lady asked as she held out a piece of computer paper. On it was printed a photograph of a painting hanging in a gallery. It was done in bright purple, pink, blue, and green of a woman sitting across the table from a little boy.
“That’s…that’s me.” Leah pointed to the picture of the opening day of the Hamburger Shack that had been duplicated in the painting. “That’s here. At that table under the picture.” She’d been consoling him after his mom had cut her finger on something sharp outside. She had brought her son into the Shack so she could wash her cut in the bathroom, but he was too old to go into the women’s side, so Leah had offered to watch him.
The blond woman huffed a breath and sat at the bar top. “This conversation is going to be strange.”
“Okay. I’m good with strange,” Leah said numbly as she studied the picture. It was splattered and rough and beautiful, just like the pictures Ethan had painted in the hotel room.
“Do you know the artist who painted this?”
Leah nodded and whispered, “I think so.”
“Well…this is the first color painting he has done in years. It’s the first happy painting.”
“Ethan was watching me that day then. Like I was watching him.”
The woman was staring at her neck. She gestured to the talon marks, still healing, and very red and angry-looking. “Are those what I think they are?”
Carefully, Leah asked, “Whaaaaat do you think they are?”
“Claiming marks. Not all shifters do them. Crows cut each other.”
“What do you mean?”
“I mean they leave a mark, and then they give each other a gift when they choose a mate.” Her eyes flicked to the dress lying on the counter and back to Leah. “I’m Bailey Blackwood, the first and only Blackwood Wolf. I’m married and mated to Rike Blackwood, one of the two Blackwood Crows and brother to your Ethan. I’m a friend.”
“Well…my Ethan left,” Leah whispered.
“I know. Rike and Kasey, two members of Ethan’s old Clan, have been tracking him. Watching him, worrying. It’s not good for a crow to go rogue, and Ethan let all his new Clan go.”
“His new Clan?”
“He’s an Alpha,” Bailey murmured, leaning forward. “He took half of Red Dead Mayhem with him when he left the Clan, and he was supposed to bind them to him, but he didn’t. We can’t figure out why, but the longer he is alone, the harder his crow will be to manage.” Her voice had gone a little thick as she straightened her spine. “Rike wants to meet you.”
“Me?”
Bailey nodded, but she was tearing up, and Leah didn’t understand.
“He wanted to come talk to the girl who got Ethan painting in color again.” Bailey huffed a laugh. “My mate spent half our savings to buy that picture from the gallery because it made him hopeful for his brother. They went through a lot together. But Rike was afraid he would scare you off. He can be intimidating, so he asked me to come instead.”
“Is he the one who has been helping?”
Bailey frowned. “What do you mean?”
“Is he the one who messages me and calls me about Ethan?”
Bailey’s frown deepened. “I don’t think so.”
Leah pulled up her recent calls and showed Bailey the number. “Is that his number?”
“No. It’s not Kasey’s either. Or Ramsey’s.” Bailey slid Leah’s phone back to her and murmured, “Maybe it’s Hairpin Trigger or the Warmaker. Or Ten. I’ll look into it and let you know what I find. Do you know where Ethan is?”
“No, but I think I know why he didn’t want a Clan under him.”
Bailey’s face brightened. “Really? Why?”
“Because Lucian’s haunting him.”
“Ooooh, fuuuck,” Bailey drawled out.
“Yeah. I think it’s bad. It’s why he left. I saw Lucian, so Ethan dropped me off at home and rode away.”
“He’s trying to protect you.”
“I think so, too. But who will protect him?”
Bailey inhaled deeply and then puffed air out her cheeks. “I have a plan to bring him back, but he’s going to be mad. Are you in?”
“Uh, I haven’t had sex in a week. He can be mad all he wants as long as I get dat dick again. I’m in.”
Bailey snorted, pursing her lips, and then let out a laugh that sounded like a donkey.
“So do we, like, make up a secret
handshake now?” Leah asked.
Bailey grinned. “Uh, hell yeah, we do. Team Blackwood.”
And as they started their complicated high-five choreography, a huge weight lifted from Leah’s shoulders.
You aren’t alone.
No, she wasn’t. Not anymore. She was definitely going to make Bailey and Ethan and Rike and the mystery phone-caller all macaroni art.
Because she was good at four things now: falling a lot, kissing, annoying people, and gluing friendship pictures.
Chapter Nine
Ethan pulled his motorcycle to a stop in front of his mom’s house. He’d come here only a handful of times over the years. He couldn’t even explain why he’d maintained his distance from her and her werewolf mate, Conner. Maybe it was because she brought back memories of his helplessness and guilt over not being able to protect her. Or maybe it was this place. He hated it here. Right where he’d parked his Harley was where Lucian had killed the Old Wulfe Clan. None of what had happened was Mom’s fault. She was perhaps the biggest of Lucian’s victims.
Lucian had almost gotten her killed the night he had used the boys as bait to draw in an entire Clan of werewolves. He’d let them attack Mom, Rike, and Ethan as an excuse to go on a killing spree. He wasn’t trying to protect them. Lucian just wanted to give into his bloodlust.
Ethan caught a glimpse of himself in the side mirror but jerked his gaze away quickly. He didn’t know if it was his imagination or what, but each day he looked a little more like the Blackwood Crow, as the shifters in Stevensville had named his asshole father all those years ago.
The house hadn’t changed much in all this time. Dad had stolen Ethan and Rike away when they were teenagers, and Ethan had never understood why Ma kept this place.
Behind him, Lucian was leaning against a tree, chuckling to himself and acting like he was still king of the castle. If Ethan could call the damn Ghostbusters to rid himself of this thorn, he would, and he’d pay anything for relief.
He missed Leah.
Fuck.
Don’t think about her.
Everything was quiet. Too quiet. He used to love silence before Leah, but now he hated it.
The porch light was on, a warm glow shone from inside, and to any passerby it would look homey. But this house had held horrors for him as a kid.
He hadn’t been back in over a year.
With a sigh, he read the text from Ma again. I really need to talk to you. If it wasn’t important, I wouldn’t ask, you know that. Come home. I’ll make you dinner. Seven tomorrow night. And if you don’t reply, I’ll start looking for you.
Ma deserved better than to be tracking him down. She’d done it before when he went off the rails.
The front door opened, and his mom stepped out onto the porch. He couldn’t help his smile. She always looked so damn happy to see him. God, he was a terrible son.
“You gonna come inside, or are you just going to stare at your phone all night?”
“Depends,” he called. “What’s for dinner?”
“Chicken and dumplings.”
“I’m coming in,” he said, dismounting the bike.
He missed Leah.
Don’t think about her.
Inside of him, his crow was clawing to escape him. That happened a lot when Lucian was around now.
“Enjoy your dinner, Blackwood Crow,” Lucian called.
“Fuck off,” Ethan called over his shoulder.
When he looked up, Ma was looking right at where Lucian was. “Been a while since he’s been back to my woods. What have you done?”
“Nothing.”
“Hmm. Lie. What did you do?” she asked again.
Shit, this dinner was going to suck. Ma never shied away from the grit. Wasn’t in her. Tough lady. “Well, I betrayed my Alpha, fought him on camera for all the world to see, took half of Red Dead Mayhem right out from under him, and then I cut ties with all the boys and forced them to go rogue. I made ’em homeless just because I felt like fuckin’ with the ranks. Lost Rike in the process and nearly ruined an innocent human girl’s life. You don’t do that much bad shit and get away with it free and clear. I’m guessing the old man’s attracted to all the evil.”
“Ha! You’re the least evil man I’ve ever met.” Ma put her palm against his cheek. “My, but you do look like him.”
“Lucky me,” he muttered, pushing past her.
“Wait,” she said, soft as a breeze, but the command in her voice froze him in his tracks. If Ma had been born a shifter, she would’ve been one helluva force to be reckoned with. “Before you go in there, I want you to know something.”
Ethan narrowed his eyes at the cracked door. He smelled a rat. “What have you done?” he murmured, turning slowly toward her.
“I know you prefer to be alone, but that don’t work anymore. You’re grown and can make your own decisions, and for a long time, I’ve had to watch you sabotage yourself because you are stubborn, boy.”
“Like Lucian?”
“No.” Ma’s silver-streaked waves twitched with her head shake. “No, your stubbornness you got from me. I see a lot of me in you, and so I knew I had to let you make your own decisions. Because can’t no one tell you to do anything, or you’ll rebel and do the opposite, whether it hurts you or not. No one ever had a shot at telling you what to do but Ramsey. And eventually, you buckled against him, too. But this is where me and you are gonna go through some growing pains.”
Ethan straightened his spine and stood up taller. “What do you mean?”
“I mean you pushing everyone away doesn’t work for me anymore.”
“Works for me.”
“And look where it’s got you. Are you happy? Is Lucian haunting you less? Has your life improved at all with the decisions you’ve made?”
“I’m trying to keep everyone safe.”
“From who?”
“From me! Look at me, Ma. Really look. You see any blue in my eyes? I haven’t in months. You know what runs through my head on a constant loop? How to kill things. How to kill people. Strangers. I have Lucian in my head all the time, and you know what will happen at some point? I’m gonna get weak and give in just to stop the voices. I’m gonna be just like him.”
“Bullshit.”
“What?”
“I said bullshit, Ethan Allan Blackwood. You want to protect your people from that?” she asked, jamming her finger at the smug-looking ghost of his father. “Then kill him.”
His tiny hellion of a mother spun on her heel and bustled into the house.
“Your other son killed him,” Ethan called after her. “Lucian’s already dead.”
“Is he?” came the reply. “You’ve been feeding that ghost for months!”
Ethan scrubbed his hands down his face and counted to three so he wouldn’t enter the house cussing up a storm. His ears were getting hot, and he wanted to punch everything.
“Do it,” Lucian called. “Start with that bitch that bore you.”
“Shut. The fuck. UP!” Ethan yelled.
Lucian’s face twisted in pain, and then he screamed an awful sound before disintegrating into ashes that blew away on the wind.
Fuckin’ finally. That was awesome.
“I know what you’re thinking.”
“Aaaah!” he yelped, clutching his dick and his chest as he turned toward the voice.
Leah was standing on the edge of the wraparound porch holding a box of wine, some Ritz crackers, and a tube of cheddar-flavored squeeze cheese. “You’re thinking chicken and dumplin’s aren’t worth getting your ass chewed by your momma, but I can smell it, and that lady can cook. Trust me. Worth it.”
“How long have you been standing there?”
“Like the whole time. I kept waiting for you to see me and for us to have our moment, but you were distracted by your parents.”
“Parent. Singular. That asshole ghost isn’t my dad. Men have to earn that title.” Yeah, he was mad and totally shocked she’d snuck up on him but, damn, she l
ooked good tonight. He’d missed her so fuckin’ bad. She was wearing a tight purple V-neck cotton shirt, dark wash jeans, and a pair of flip flops. She’d done her nails in bright pink with sparkles. Her hair was down and in lose waves that he wanted to run his fingers through, and her lips were all glossed up and pouty.
“What did you mean have our moment?” he asked, approaching her slowly.
“Well, I thought we would have that moment, like in the movies, where we lock eyes and run to each other in slow motion.”
Ethan snorted. “You would’ve fallen three times before you ever reached me.”
Leah belted out the cutest laugh and whacked him on the arm with the can of squeeze cheese. “I’m mad at you.”
“You don’t sound mad,” he pointed out, taking the box of wine from her. “You sound happy.”
“That’s just because I’ve missed you and I’m glad to see you again, but I assure you, I am terribly mad, and you are in big trouble for leaving me.”
Ethan set the wine on the porch floorboards and cupped her cheeks. “I was headed back to you.”
“Save your lines for one of your other girlfriends.”
“Ha! That’s not a line. Yesterday, I saw this fully stocked first-aid kit at the hardware store, and I bought one because it reminded me of you.”
Her face got all mushy and her eyes got all big like a puppy dog’s. She said in the sweetest voice, “You bought me a first-aid kit? Nobody’s ever bought me one of those. That’s the sweetest thing ever. I’m going to decorate the outside of it with pictures of us.”
“Oh, great.”
“It’s called mod podge. I will make it the best first-aid kit ever. And thank you for the dress. I look super hot when I’m serving chili-cheese fries, and my tips have increased by at least ten percent.” She dipped her voice to a whisper. “Also, your mom has a boat. I saw it on the way in. It’s just sitting by this little dock on the pond, and I’ve never fucked in a boat before.”
“You…you want to fuck in a boat? After you saw my ghost dad and after I left you?”
“Yeah. Oh, I’m friends with Bailey now, and she told me everything. All about your childhood and Red Dead Mayhem, about your artwork and, oh! I saw the painting you did of me. You give me lots of butterflies, and I’m grown, Ethan. You give a grown woman who is, like, thirty percent angry at you butterflies. That’s pretty cool. You should feel preeeeetty cocky with yourself. Is your dad watching? I want to kiss you, but it feels weird if he’s watching us.”
