My eyes stung. “I think so.”
“Was it worth it?”
“I….”
She said, “I think it was. In the end. I’m not happy with the way you went about it, and you’re grounded for the rest of your natural life, but I’m so very proud of you. I don’t know if he’s ever had someone fight for him as hard as you have.”
“You can’t ground me,” I said weakly, her praise like a fire in my chest.
“Be that as it may, you’re still grounded. And though it may seem like I’m not angry with you, don’t be fooled. Once the happiness at your safe return quiets down, I’m going to yell at you. Scream, even. Do you believe me?”
I nodded.
“Good.” She leaned down and kissed above my right eye. “Get up. Everyone is waiting.” She turned and walked to the door.
I was confused. “For what?”
“Tradition, of course,” she said. “It’s Sunday, and we have much to be thankful for.”
And then she left, closing the door behind her. I listened as she walked down the hall toward the stairs, the creaks and groans of the house familiar.
“I know you’re awake,” I said. “You drooled on me.”
Gavin snorted as he raised his head. He yawned, his fangs sharp, as his jaw cracked. His stomach rumbled as he laid his head back down on my legs, watching me out of the corner of his eye.
“Me too. But you gotta turn back, okay? Just for now. When we’re done, you can shift again. Not that you need to eat any more. Christ, you’re heavy. Were you always this fat?”
The sound I made when he snapped his fangs at me wasn’t one I was proud of.
HE WASN’T HAPPY WITH ME as he followed me down the stairs. He pulled at the hoodie I’d given him, but I thought it was all for show. It smelled like pack, and I caught him sniffing it when he thought I wasn’t looking. I’d given him a rubber band to tie his hair back. He’d fumbled with it, glaring as it broke.
“You’re hopeless,” I muttered before motioning for him to turn around. He did so without complaint. I didn’t even think twice about it as I did it for him, his hair soft. “And now I’ve created the first hipster werewolf. I’m not proud of this. You shouldn’t be either.”
“Hipster?” he asked.
“Never mind. Come on.”
He did, crowding behind me again. At first I thought it was because he still didn’t understand the concept of personal space, but when we reached the bottom of the stairs and the voices of the others grew louder, he ducked his head, his shoulders hunched as if he was trying to make himself smaller. When I glanced back, he had a panicked look on his face, breathing heavily through his mouth.
“You don’t have to hide,” I said quietly. “Not here.”
He frowned down at the floor. “Not hiding.”
“A little bit.”
“Very loud.”
I startled. “I guess it is. Not like it was in the forest.”
“Just you and me.”
“And your father, who wanted to kill me,” I reminded him.
His lips twitched like he was amused at the idea of me being murdered.
I looked toward the kitchen, feeling the pull of the pack. It wasn’t like it was before when it was as bright as the sun, but it was there. A whispered promise. “They’re loud,” I said. “And it’s going to take time. Time we probably don’t have. But they want you here. Never forget that. This is yours as much as it is mine.”
He looked up at me, and my heart clenched at his hopeful expression. “It is?”