He walked back behind the truck. The hair along his back began to recede as muscle and bone shifted. He gasped quietly. Gordo stepped forward. He went around to the passenger side of the truck and gathered up the clothes Gavin had discarded. He walked to the back, muttering to his brother that it was too cold to be naked. Gavin grunted, and Gordo sighed.
When Gavin reappeared, he was wearing jeans and a coat, though he’d forgone the shirt and shoes. He looked skittish as he stepped out from behind the truck, hands clenched in fists at his sides.
&nbs
p; “He’s like a hotter version of Gordo,” Bambi muttered.
Jessie snorted into her hand as Rico glared at the both of them.
But Gavin only had eyes for my mother.
She stood slowly. “Gavin,” she said.
He nodded, head jerking up and down, eyes darting side to side. I wanted to go to him, to tell him it would be all right, but I was rooted in place.
“I like your face,” Mom told him. “It’s a good face.”
He grimaced, hair hanging down. He reached up and brushed it back. And then he said, “Music.”
“Music?”
He nodded again. “You. In the kitchen. Or… painting. You play music. You sing.”
“I do,” she said.
“I… like. The music. I like it. When you sing. I remember.”
I could hear her smiling. “I thought as much. You should know that no one else watches me paint. I won’t allow it. It’s private. Personal. I need focus. Not even Thomas was allowed in my studio. He never knew how to stay quiet. His sons get that from him.”
“Always talking,” Gavin muttered.
“Yes. They tend to do that. There was only one other person who ever watched me paint, and though our time together was brief, I will treasure it always.”
“Who?” Gavin asked.
“Her name was Maggie. She was Ox’s mother. And like your mother, she shone brightly. I loved her more than I can put into words.”
“She’s gone,” Gavin said.
“Yes,” Mom said quietly. “Gone with the moon. Like so many others.”
He gnawed on his bottom lip. “Not good. At this. Being human.”
“You seem like you’re very good at it to me, but I understand how it’s easier to stay as a wolf. Before you came, and after Thomas and Maggie were taken from us, I only knew grief. I was a wolf for many months. It hurt too much otherwise. But pain is life. It reminds us of what we have. It’s a lesson I wish none of us had to learn, but sometimes we don’t have a choice. And yet here we are, as we are now. Together again. I know it’s not what we planned, but I like to think everything happens for a reason.”
“My father.” His mouth twisted down.
“Yes.”
“Bad wolf.”
“Is he?”
Gavin held up his right hand. He extended his claws. “In my head. Voice. Heard him. Didn’t want to, but did. Only way. I thought. And I….” He looked frustrated. “Can’t find words.”
Mom said, “You seem to be doing just fine to me. He’s still out there.”
He lowered his hands, the claws disappearing. “Still out there. Come. He’ll come here.”