“And I’m the one making this choice.”
“I know.”
“I want this.”
“Do you?”
“Yes.”
“You didn’t before. Yesterday. Last week.”
“Things were different. Yesterday. And last week. And all those years ago when Thomas offered it to me to begin with.”
“When?”
I blinked. “When what.”
He looked tired. “When did my dad offer you the bite?”
“He told me I could take it when I turned eighteen.”
“He did?”
“You sound surprised.”
Joe rubbed a hand over his face. “I am. I mean—I knew he must have done it. At some point. I just didn’t know when.”
“He didn’t tell you?”
“Why would he have? It wasn’t about me.”
“Wasn’t it, though?”
“I don’t see how—”
“It was. Joe, all of this is about you. That’s what I am. That’s all I am now.” Because I didn’t think I was anyone’s son anymore. I didn’t know if someone could be considered an orphan at the age of twenty-three. If they could, then that’s what I was.
“But you didn’t.”
“No.”
“Why?”
For a moment, I didn’t know how to answer. But then I remembered something Thomas had told me once. “I didn’t have to be something different to be in your pack. To belong with all of you. Thomas said I was good enough just as I was. And I think I needed to see that before I became something different.”
“And have you?” he asked.
I scowled at him. “That’s not the point.”
“I’m not going to bite you, Ox.”
“That’s it, then? Because you said so, that’s the way it’s going to be.”
“I am the Al—”
“That doesn’t work with me,” I retorted. “You should know that better than anyone. I don’t give a damn what color your eyes are. You’re Joe, okay? So don’t you dare try to pull that bullshit on me.”
“I’m leaving.”