Maybe because everyone else was so excited about finding a partner, it was hard not to get swept up in it.
Nolan nodded, like that made sense to him, like it settled something and he didn't need to know more.
"This Justin," said Nolan. "Where's he fit in all this? Your voice sounds different when you say his name. His first name."
What was weird about saying his first name? "He's just a cop. He was kind to me, when nobody had been for a while." A damned long while.
Nolan nodded again, but thoughtfully. "Maybe you'll end up working with him, then."
"I don't know." I still couldn't quite see myself officially on the right side of the law. I'd probably spend years expecting to be shoved in a cell or told to go threaten someone and collect hush money. "Besides, he didn't say anything."
Despite what Pete had said, I didn't think Justin had an ulterior motive. He knew what a mess I was a lot better than most people: not somebody to rely on for a difficult and stressful job, that's for sure. If anything, he'd treated me like a vulnerable pup that needed protected, not a potential partner.
I thought about the way he'd looked helplessly after me at the airport, like he wanted to tear after me and set the world right for me. It was a nice feeling, even if it went along with being "too bossy," as he'd put it. But it sure didn't spell potential partnership. Even if I'd wanted it to, which I didn't.
At the end of the day, I'd been sent here, shelved for my own safety, and anything I learned or got from the course was a bonus. But I wasn't really here to find a partner, and I was by no means sure I even wanted one. Not if it meant being a cop, or around them all the time.
THE PHYSICAL WORK, the obstacle courses, were all easy-peasy for me, as simple as the classroom stuff. I was a big, strong wolf, of course, but even the smaller, weaker ones didn't have much trouble.
The work was designed to be easy. It wasn't about stretching yourself, it was about certifying what you could do, and learning to work with a partner.
The non-shifters seemed to struggle more with some of the physical training, and I got the feeling their classroom work was more intense, too. But then, they'd have to do a lot of the paperwork and make sure all laws were followed, protect their wolf partners from bureaucracy, etc., so it kind of made sense.
It was still weird to feel like we were being pitched softballs, while they were struggling and sweating through some deep shit.
Not that it was that way for everyone: some of my fellow wolves were struggling. A few found the obstacles and runs challenging—although not many—and a number of them were extremely nervous when we met the non-shifters for the first time, first as humans, then as wolves. I mean they broke out in cold sweats and everything. Some of them were trembling when they tried to give their firm handshakes and introduce themselves.
Turns out a lot of them hadn't been around non-shifters much, not to mention the high expectations and pressure they'd put on making a good impression. That part was easy for me. It was wolves I hadn't been around much. Non-shifters weren't a problem, especially since they all seemed eager to please and not to take me down a peg or enforce their will on me.
I shook hands easily, forcing myself to briefly make eye contact as I politely introduced myself. I could see (and smell) that more often than not, they were pretty impressed by me.
I was big, polite, seemingly confident (if only they knew!), and spoke clearly. Some of the other wolves barely managed to mumble their names, much less say "pleased to meet you," or repeat the cops' names to fix them in their memories along with their smells.
I was less okay during the tail-wagging meet and greet. I wasn't very comfortable being around non-shifters as a wolf. It used to mean I had to terrorize someone for Eddie or Vance, which made me extremely uncomfortable.
Compared to that, this was a walk in the park. But I still felt vulnerable in my fur, and very shy, milling around, being eyed up by strangers. I couldn't make myself go over and greet any of them this time.
Some of the wolves were going over and sniffing and making friends, wagging their tails, being outgoing. I wanted to put my tail between my legs and slink off apologetically. Fortunately, I didn't—but I didn't make any new pals, either.
In wolf form, I was the biggest. I hadn't expected that; I'd thought Nolan would still be biggest. My fur was mostly white, with some gray markings around my ears, paws, and tail, and I could feel the attention on me in a way that made me nervous. I didn't know what to do, and was glad when it was all over and I could escape back to the barracks.
Some of us stayed in wolf form for longer, because it was easier, more comfortable in some ways. Nolan lay down on the floor next to me and licked my face. I guess my drooping tail and averted gaze showed I was feeling low. Or maybe my smell.
He'd met his preferred partner, seemed to like her—and he still had time and attention to spare for me.
It was really more than I deserved.
The next day, I finally got up the nerve to call Justin. I'd been meaning to for a while, but that was the day I finally made myself do it.
"Are they treating you well?" That was his first question. He sounded worried.
I didn't know the man very well, but I had the feeling he worried a lot, at least if he had no control over a situation.
"I'm fine," I promised. "Nobody's been nasty or anything."
"Are you eating? Sleeping okay?"
"Of course." The food was good, and the barracks was a very safe place to sleep. Lots of wolves. Peaceful setting. Nolan always nearby. It was safe.
He blew out a breath. "I'm very glad to hear that. Your grades are pretty amazing so far, too," he informed me.
"You're getting reports on me?"
"Yes. Did you expect me not to?" He snorted. "I sent you there, Riley. I feel some responsibility to keep tabs on you."
I wouldn't have been shocked if some of the psychiatric evaluation talks had filtered their way back to him. I thought I'd done okay there, at least passably. I hadn't expected him to be actually spying on me, though. "But my grades? That's kind of pushy, even for you."
He was silent for a stunned second, and I wondered if he was insulted. I licked my lips, wondering how to take back any insult without taking back what I meant.
"You really are doing better. You'd never have said that before. Or is it just the distance, the phone? Do you find it easier to communicate, long-distance?" Always pushing to understand things, my Justin.
I shook my head slowly, even though he couldn't see. "I don't know. It doesn't matter. Don't look at my grades. That's not your business."
"All right. If you feel that strongly about it."
"I do. You said it didn't matter anyway. What grades I got." I felt exposed, unexpectedly vulnerable, his reach coming this far, following me, unseen eyes reporting. What else was he spying on me about? Was he shaking his head over how poorly I'd done during the furry meet and greet? I didn't want him looking down on me.
He'd more or less taken over my life, redirected it, and gotten me out of the situation I'd been in, then tossed me into this one. And I was grateful. Sort of. Part of the time. But did he want to control every aspect of my life?
"All right. I'm sorry. I'll stop looking at your grades. Anything you wanted to tell me?"
I'd been meaning to tell him I'd made a friend, and that my studies were going well. That I was the second biggest wolf here—in human form. Now I didn't want to tell him anything at all.
"No. See you." And I hung up.
Maybe I wouldn't see him at all. Maybe I wouldn't go back there, to that town that had chewed me up and spit me out in so many different, awful ways. Maybe I'd never see his fucking face again.
Maybe I'd just find myself a partner I could stand. Somebody who didn't feel like he had to spy on me.
I got a long text that evening from him. It was carefully spelled, like he'd put a lot of thought into it, instead of using abbreviations and speaking off the top of his head.
I didn't know what to say to that. Was he sorry I was hurt, or sorry he'd done it? I felt like I was overreacting, but I didn't want to cede this issue, either. I felt stubborn and mean about it.
I wanted to trust him...but how could I? It was hard to trust anybody, much less someone who ordered me around, turned my life in a completely new direction, and then spied on me. I had literally testified to the police about everything I knew, all that I'd seen, done, and had done to me—all on his say-so. That was a pretty vulnerable position to be in.
It was not something I'd have chosen on my own. Go to the police? Never. Tell things about myself as well? Of course not! He knew everything about me, and I didn't know a damned thing about him, except that he had that alpha quality I apparently fell all over myself to obey.
It wasn't pleasant to know that about myself, but it was the truth. Maybe if I didn't want to be obeying him for the rest of my life, I'd have to stay out of his orbit.
That made me kind of sad, especially since I knew I'd miss him more than he'd miss me.
Justin had been kind to me. I didn't want to pay him back by disappearing from his life, or being mad at him about some stupid grades.
But could I afford to keep making decisions that way—by listening to whoever seemed the most alpha, and could spare a few crumbs of affection for me, or at least pretend to?
It was pretty fucked up, and I hated realizing how weak I'd been.
Sure, I'd managed to get my high school diploma, and I read books. I'd been the best enforcer I could be without bending the rules too much—threats instead of violence whenever possible, an intimidating presence rather than a cruel one—and yes, I'd fed some hungry kids along the way.
I'd been nice...as long as I could do it without crossing my bosses. I'd been a great guy...who never once thought for himself, or made a decision based on what was best for me, what was right—even what was safest and sanest.
No, I'd stayed, because I'd needed pack. I'd been loyal to men who didn't deserve it, because I couldn't stand to be on my own.
If that wasn't weak, what was? It didn't matter how big I was—the biggest wolf in the world—if I could be steered around by forceful men who made me feel like I could belong somewhere.
It would be better to be alone than give in to that again.
JUSTIN: Riley, I really am sorry. Talk to me?
It was so plaintive I couldn't help giving in—just a little.
I'm figuring a lot of things out, I texted back. That wasn't quite accepting his apology, but it was less than freezing him out.
Riley: I'm figuring out who I want to be.
He wrote back almost immediately.
Justin: That's good, isn't it? I'm glad to hear that.
Riley: I don't want to listen to forceful men anymore.
This time it took him quite some time to reply.
Justin: I'm being put in the same category with your bosses, I see. I'm not that bad, am I?
Riley: I didn't want to tell the cops all that stuff. But I did it because you said to.
I thought of the older boys doing sexual things to me. I'd never have shared that on my own—not in a million years. And that hadn't actually been necessary to take down any leaders, either. It was just something he'd pried out of me. Yes, I'd learned something from having it exposed, but it still hurt, and I wouldn't have picked it on my own as something to share.
Justin: And you did the right thing, Riley. We can stop them now. You did a lot of good when you shared what you did.
Riley: I could go to jail. I didn't want to tell you any of that, but I did it. You have a forceful personality, and I'm not very strong. But I want to be stronger.
Justin: Then you will be. I'm sorry you felt coerced. I can only say I did what I thought was best—for you and us. You won't go to jail. You're a friendly witness with immunity. I was trying to help.
Riley: You did help.
I didn't know how to put it. I wanted him to back off on making decisions for me from now on. Yes, he'd gotten me out of a bad situation. I was only just starting to realize how bad a mess it had been, unhealthy and unsustainable.
But I wanted him to stop now. I wanted him to back off on the Riley-coddling and Riley-bossing. And despite his certainty that I was a friendly witness, I'd told a lot of criminal stuff about myself. Threatening people. Keeping silent about crimes. Backup for criminal activity. Protection racket work. Actually biting a few people...
Understood, he texted at last. It's your life. I won't keep trying to help.
And then, perversely, I felt bereft.
I went to sleep with the phone tucked up under my pillow, still not sure what to text back.
It was a hole inside, eating at me, nagging at me, like a sore tooth I couldn't stop prodding. But I carried the phone with me, so I wouldn't miss anything else he had to say to me.
Or maybe I'd have a burst of inspiration and text him back in the middle of a run, or just before falling asleep. But I couldn't feel any differently than I had before. He needed to give me some space. And at the same time I really wished he wouldn't.
Nolan noticed my mood, downcast and sullen and unhappy, but he didn't say anything. Occasionally he gripped my shoulder and gave it an encouraging squeeze, and he went on a few extra runs with me to work off the tension, but he didn't give me any advice or orders. And that, I realized, was a blessed relief.
The truth was, despite my big words, I wasn't going to change overnight. Perhaps I'd never change. I'd certainly never have been able to say those things to Justin if we'd been face to face.
As it was, I still wanted approval from strong men. I still felt miserable about myself and weak a lot of the time. I realized I was pretty much always trying to curry favor with the instructors, to get them to approve of me.
My feelings about myself, not to mention my confidence, went up and down depending on how people treated me. My own opinion was not something I ever quite trusted. In fact, that was the only part of the training where I did badly.
Anything that required a judgment call or important decision, rather than just physical prowess or book learning, I almost always failed, because I hesitated, I couldn't decide.
The instructors pointed this weakness out to me, and I felt miserable enough I almost wished they'd just slapped me around instead. It was hard to hear exactly what was wrong with me and how, once again, I'd failed.
I could tell they weren't trying to be discouraging, just get me to do better. But I was devastated every time I got any sort of correction, even a gentle one. I felt like such worthless shit, like they were saying "Riley, you are a worthless wolf and a terrible human," instead of "You need to work on that."
It didn't matter if they said three positive things to soften to blow. I mean, that should have mattered, shouldn't it? But all I could seem to hear was the negative, how worthless I was.
I may not have done quite as well on the psych evals as I thought I did, either. I may have overestimated my ability to seem normal and well-adjusted.
Oddly, that was the one thing I'd thought I wouldn't mind Justin seeing. But now I hoped he'd done as he'd promised and backed off on "following my career."
I didn't want him to see that. I didn't want anyone to see that.
Why couldn't I just be strong? It wasn't even as though Eddie had beaten it out of me. There wasn't any strength to begin with. There wasn't any confidence, or certainty, or ability to make it on my own.
I was too weak. I could never really make it alone. I probably couldn't even fake it convincingly.
"SO WHAT ARE YOU INTO—SPORTS?"
The detective had been trying to pry something out of me for what felt like the last two hours of intense interrogation—but was probably less than five minutes of small talk.
"I d
on't know." I was feeling pretty low. I hadn't managed to meet anyone's gaze so far today. Sure would be nice if he wasn't watching me so closely, like I was something he could decode.
I couldn't even decode myself. How was someone else going to do it?
"You must stay fit somehow," he said. "Big guy like you, bet you'd be great at football."
I shrugged. Running was okay, and I could catch as well as the next guy, but football was a pretty full-contact sport. Tackling people—or having them tackle me—did not sound like a whole lot of fun. I didn't even particularly like watching it.
"Well, what are you into? Travel, movies?"
Was he getting impatient with me? I was letting him down, wasn't I? My heartbeat started to ratchet up. "Books, I guess."
He pounced. "Books? Really? What kind?" He was too eager, too pushy. I could feel myself getting smaller and smaller inside my too big, hulking, football-player-sized body.
This was where I was supposed to open up, to start talking animatedly. I could mention the book on the history of bananas. Bananas were interesting, weren't they?
Or I could say I liked mysteries. I didn't have to say only cozy mysteries, nothing where there was bloody violence, nothing gritty, nothing involving cops or autopsies...
He was a cop. He probably liked those really intense thrillers. I could never get past the first few pages. Too much death, too many bodies. I glanced at him helplessly, and then wished I hadn't. He was still staring at me. It was like being in a predator's sights. I was supposed to be a predator, wasn't I? But he was the one making me feel like a little squirrel.
I was pretty sure he wasn't doing it on purpose. Pretty sure. He smelled a little overeager, sure, but not like he was trying to intimidate me.
I was just so pathetic he didn't even need to try, apparently.
"Riley?" he prompted. "Anything I might have heard of? Or are you into really obscure stuff, like art history?" He laughed, not a real laugh, a breaking-the-ice laugh.
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