by T. S. Joyce
Not just any chicken either, but the creepy looking, balding chicken named Squirts. She was sitting in the dark in the feed barn cuddling the ugly thing, and it pulled at something deep in his heart. Even in the dim lighting, he had great vision and could see the downturned curve of her full lips.
“They’re all gone,” he said, squatting down in the doorway. Crowding her right now wouldn’t do any good.
“I don’t understand why she would leave me this place.”
“I do.”
“Then explain it to me, because from here? It looks like she meant to piss off the entire family. They all hate me now.”
Cole scooted closer, and the chicken clucked softly in her arms. “Mae, think about what you just said. You didn’t do anything wrong, and if they’re pissed at you? For Tabby’s decision? Well, fuck ’em. I saw what you were to Tabby. You were her special girl, the one who always came to visit every week before you moved, no matter what. And I believe with every bone in my body that when you left this town, you didn’t really leave Tabby behind, did you?”
She shook her head. “We had phone dates every week.”
Cole couldn’t help his smile. “You’re a loyal little critter, Mae. So was Tabby. You came by that trait honestly. You were always more like her than anyone else in your family. How many people were in that room, not expecting to get a single thing, just there because Tabby asked them to be?”
She shrugged up one shoulder.
“Probably just one. You,” he said. “Do you know the type of people who deserve good things the most?”
“Who?”
“The ones who don’t expect somethin’ for nothin’.”
“I have a life in Baton Rouge,” she said. “A job that’s just taking off, an apartment. A pet Venus flytrap.”
“A boyfriend?” Fuck, he hadn’t meant to ask that out loud. He tried to save the moment. “And friends? You have people out there?”
Mae’s frown deepened. “Not really. But that was in my five-year plan. I have two years left to make friends and find people before I consider the city ‘chewing me up and spitting me out.’”
It killed him to say this, but he had to. “It’s okay to go back to your life, you know. I don’t think Tabby was trying to trap you here. I think she was giving you a gift. The only thing she had to give when she passed. She loved this place. She gave you that damn hideous chicken. That’s the biggest ‘I love you’ that woman had. Now you got a decision to make.”
“What decision?” she asked, even though both of them knew what it was.
“Well, you can stay here and be a swamper again, raise that ugly thing, live in Tabby’s old house, and settle into the life you left behind.”
“Or?”
He swallowed hard. “Or you do your job—you sell this house like the other houses you’ve sold in Baton Rouge, and you go back to the life you built, Mae. There ain’t a lot of options to choose from. Just two.”
“You know I’m a realtor there?”
He stood and came to sit next to her on a bail of musty hay. He sighed and bumped her shoulder. “You said I never cared what happened to you. That wasn’t true.”
“You checked up on me?”
He huffed a laugh. “It wasn’t some clean break for me, Mae. My life got taken, but I still cared about you.”
“What do you mean your life was taken?”
“The gator that got me was Holt. His grandma was there that night, and she was pissed. I was shootin’ at her boy. I didn’t know he was a shifter. Hell, I had no clue shifters existed. I thought we were hunting gators. He flipped the boat, and I went in the water. Max went in the water. Shit.” He ran his hands down his face. “I don’t talk about this. Doesn’t help.”
“He turned you into a shifter?”
“No. I was dyin’. My dog Max had tried to save me, but he was dyin’, too. Holt came out of that water, Changed back into a man, and saw what he’d done to my leg, my stomach. I was bleeding out so fast. He begged Raina to save me.”
“I…I don’t understand.”
“She used that black magic to put two dyin’ souls in one body, Mae. I’m not a shifter. More like two ghosts. I share a body with Max. I can’t be a man too long or he dies. He can’t be a dog too long or I die. His ghost starts showing up on day two, and I know my hours in this body are numbered. You understand?”
“I’m trying to. How long?” She cuddled Squirts closer to her. “How long can you stay?”
He hated the sadness in her eyes. “Aw, Mae, don’t you go feelin’ sorry for me. At least I kind of lived.”
“How long, Cole?”
His murmured name on her lips made him close his eyes just to enjoy the sound of it again. He’d never thought he would hear it in her voice. “Two more days if I’m lucky, and then I have to Change back.”
“And then how long will the dog have your body?”
“Last time was a month.”
“Oh, my gosh,” she whispered, hanging her head, resting it on the chicken’s back. “Cole, that’s awful. It’s an awful way to live.”
He couldn’t stand her being sad. Couldn’t stand it. “It’s not so bad anymore. I have a routine down. I have a simple life that’s steady. I have a job.”
“What job?”
“Protecting Holt and Liam, Bre and Morgan, and the baby Bre will have. Even Raina. They protect the swamps of Uncertain, and I protect them.”
“You protect the people who made you into this?”
She was looking at him with anger in her eyes, and he got defensive. “You don’t understand.”
“Then explain it to me.”
“I can’t explain it right, and I don’t want you looking at me like I’m some fucked-up victim protecting his abusers. They’re not like that.”
“Is Holt the reason you limp?”
“Yes,” he gritted out. “When he was the gator, he got ahold of my leg. My torso, too.”
“And his grandma turned you half-man, half-dog instead of getting you to a hospital.”
“I wouldn’t have made it to a hospital—”
“How do you know?”
“Because I know, Mae. I was the one lying there on the shore, I was the one who felt the pain, I was the one who felt the cold, I was the one who couldn’t move my leg, and I was the one who felt the life draining from me while I was so damn deep in the swamps it would take an hour to get me to a hospital. There wasn’t a helicopter fast enough in existence to get to me in time. Holt came out of that water horrified and begging Raina to do anything to save me, and she did. It took a great toll on her. She didn’t move for three days after that. Holt and Liam thought she would die. They were mentally preparing for it. She just dropped, went into a coma, and Holt carried her body out of the swamp. I was confused and hurt, but I was trotting out of there on Max’s legs, and I was still breathing. I still existed because she wanted me to, and she damn-near died for it. My dad and brother? It took them a while to figure out what I was, but they’re alive. Me and Max? We’re alive.”
“And you couldn’t tell me this? You had to let me think the worst? For three years, Cole?”
Cole rested his elbows on his knees and huffed a long breath. “Mae…you were the part that died that night. And you didn’t even know it. I couldn’t keep you. For me, my relationship with you had to stop existing. I didn’t figure out I could Change back to a man for the first three months, and even then, it was for a day. I couldn’t even remember how to use my damn body to tell anyone from my old life that I was okay. What could I offer you, Mae? What kind of life could I give you? All the promises I made to you were null and void the day the old Cole died in that swamp. You know the day you moved away? I watched you from the woods. It was the best and worst day. The best, because I knew you would move on and find something better than withering away in this town, hurting over me. I knew you would go get the life you deserved. But it was the worst day because it felt like losing you all over again. And that time, I was
losing you for good.”
“Things turned out so different than I ever imagined,” she said quietly over the clucking of her chicken.
“Yeah, I wouldn’t have ever called this either. Come on.” He stood and held out his hand. It was selfish, wanting to touch her like this, but he didn’t really care right now. Soon, she would go back home. Oh, he knew her decision already. And he would have to deal with her loss all over again.
She slipped her fingers against his and allowed him to help her up.
“You look really good, Mae,” he said before he could change his mind.
She adjusted the chicken to her hip and ducked her gaze. “My hair is different.”
“I like it. And you have a tattoo now.”
“I have three tattoos.”
“Oooooh,” he rumbled, interested. “Where are the other two?”
She tossed him a cheeky smile. “Wouldn’t you like to know?”
Yes. Yes, he would. He would probably be up half the night thinking about it now.
He waited for her to lock Squirts back in the coop and then walked her to the house. It had taken a while for all the family to clear out after the will-reading, and he figured she’d come out here with the chickens to get some space from the chaos of the family. Cole had eventually kicked a couple lingerers out and helped Uncle Jeb load Tabby’s chicken casket into the back of his truck. Tomorrow morning, they were burying the old shit-stirrer. This was definitely a Celebration of Life no one would soon forget.
“Are you okay?” he asked her at the back door.
Mae gave a concerned glance around the house and then looked back at him. “Her body isn’t in here anymore, I saw Uncle Jeb drive away with her, but he said something about her ghost, and it’s kind of freaking me out.”
“Oh, her ghost isn’t here.”
Her eyes went round. “How do you know?”
Cole tapped his temple. “Extra senses. I know all about ghosts.” And he was a liar because, right now, Tabby’s ghost was definitely standing by the chicken coop, but Mae didn’t need to know that. She needed to get some good rest tonight, thinking she was all alone. These swamps attracted ghosts for some reason, but he kept that little gem to himself. They were harmless…mostly.
“That makes me feel better.” But she hesitated at the door as though she wanted to say more. “Cole?”
“Mmm?”
“What are you going to do now?”
“As in with my life? Or for tonight?”
“Uh…for tonight?”
“I’m going hunting.”
“Hunting for what?”
“Woman, you don’t want to know. Trust me. If you’re leaving this town, you don’t want to see the underbelly right before you go. Let’s just say I’m headed to Tacky’s for a beer and leave it at that.”
“You’re hunting at Tacky’s?” she asked.
He offered her a smile. “Goodnight, Mae.”
“Okay,” she murmured as he walked off. “Cole?”
“Yep?” he asked, turning around.
“Will you come tomorrow?”
“To watch your uncle struggle a giant-ass chicken casket into the ground?”
“Yeah.”
“Wouldn’t miss it.” And because he thought she needed to hear it, and because it was true, he told her, “I won’t let anything happen to you here, Mae. You’re safe.”
Chapter Seven
She’d tried to get tired.
Mae had cleaned the living room of Tabby’s house…her house now. She had vacuumed the empty spot behind the podium where the chicken casket had been, and tossed the beer bottles that had been sitting on the dining room floor into the recycling basket. She’d cleaned every corner of that place, but left her suitcase and purse and jacket sitting neatly in the living room. There was food lined on the counter, red solo cups filling the trashcan, and the chairs from the reading-of-the-will were all stacked neatly by the front door to return to the rental company. She’d moved the heavy couches back into place, but even with all the exertion and effort, she wasn’t tired.
She hooked her hands on her hips and canted her head, stared at the loveseat. Years ago, Cole had kissed her for the first time there.
Hunting. Who was he hunting and what was he into now? He had a secret life she’d only scratched the surface of.
I wouldn’t miss it.
He could be doing anything else with his three days as a man, but he was going to be there in the morning when they put Tabby in the ground. He was making sure she wasn’t alone. He’d always been good at that in the “before.” Before he disappeared, he didn’t let her do bad days by herself. Even if he was just sitting there quietly beside her, she had him. Steady Cole. That’s what her parents had called him, back when they lived here. Dad would have loved to see him again. To see him like this. He’d always thought Cole was too quiet, but the new Cole was different. He had a more earnest way of expressing feelings and looked a person directly in the eyes when he revealed a layer. Maybe that was the dog in him now.
Sleep wouldn’t come easy tonight.
One. Two. Three.
One day was down, and Cole had two remaining. So did she before she left this place again. She needed to be back in Baton Rouge before the house showings she had scheduled for Wednesday.
She stared at the place where Tabby’s casket had been.
Wasting precious time seemed too tragic now.
Decidedly, she marched to her suitcase, rifled through until she found the perfect Tacky’s outfit. Ripped-up, dark wash skinny jeans, a black tank top she’d brought to sleep in, and a pair of black leather booties—no, flip flops. She didn’t want to stick out tonight. Tonight, she wanted to feel like she belonged again, even if only for a little while.
She pulled the ponytail holder out of her short, dark hair and checked herself in the mirror. There was a little line in her hair from the band, but it was thick enough to look a little wild thanks to the rain earlier. She never wore her hair down anymore, but Cole had liked her hair wild in the “before,” when it had been long and down the middle of her back.
She could use a little of her old self tonight.
She’d missed herself.
Chapter Eight
Where are you?
Cole frowned at the text on his phone. It was from Holt.
Napa Valley on a wine tour. Send.
I’m serious.
Three dots appeared as if Holt was typing. They would stop and start up again. Cole just stared at his phone, wondering what the hell was wrong with Holt. They didn’t text, and he usually left him alone on his Changed days.
Are you missing me? Cole typed out sarcastically. Send.
Kind of.
“What the fuck?” he murmured to himself. Cole set the phone on the bar top and took a long swig of his Bud Light, suspicious eyes on the three dots that said Holt was typing again.
Look, I know we don’t really do this, but me and Liam and the girls were going to hang out tonight. Wanted to invite you along.
Wow. Cole leaned back in his chair and cast a glance at Cal and Seamus and all their poacher friends getting rowdy near the jukebox across the room. Holt was inviting him out.
Is Bre making you do this? Send.
Dude, don’t make this even weirder than it has to be. I’m not good at this shit. Where are you?
Tacky’s. Send.
Cole finished his whole beer before Holt responded.
The girls are getting dressed. We’re headed to you. You don’t do public. Why are you at Tacky’s?
Cole didn’t respond to that question, though. Why? Because he didn’t fuckin’ have to. He was grown, and this was his time. He wasn’t on the clock. Holt was free to ask any questions he wanted, and Cole was free to ignore them.
“Good to see you out and about, Cole,” said the bartender, Joe, as he dried a glass behind the bar top.
“Mmm,” Cole grunted, spinning his empty bottle on the worn wooden surface. Was it good to see
him? Most of the town just got uncomfortable around him. He heard every whisper, every rumor, every comment about his limp.
“Shot of whiskey,” he murmured to Joe.
“The cheap stuff or the good stuff?”
“The good stuff tonight. Why the hell not?”
Joe set two shot glasses between them and poured the Jack. That was the best this place carried. Joe didn’t say anything else, just tinked his shot against Cole’s, tapped the bottom on the counter, and tossed it back right along with him.
“Joe, you’re all right. I never heard you talk bad about anyone.” Cole tapped his ear. “I hear everything. I can tell you actually care about people, and that’s a rare find.”
Joe locked his arms against the bar top and ghosted a glance to Cal and Seamus, then back to Cole. “You know what else is hard to find? Loyalty.” He pursed his lips. “You’re all right too, Cole.”
Hmm. Cole hid a smile. Smart ol’ bartender had his ticket punched. Loyalty? Did he know what Cole was? Did he know who he protected?
“Fucking Lachlans are gonna bleed,” Seamus said to his friends. No one else in the bar was paying attention to the old poacher and his idiot friends, but Cole could hear everything in this new body of his. Every breath, every whisper, even when a heartrate raced, like Seamus’s right now. That asshole was getting worked up early tonight.
He was also slurring. Good. He talked more when he was in the drink. That old badger was easy to hunt. He was like clockwork. Every Sunday night he came down here with his swamper buddies for happy hour. They treated the waitresses like shit, never tipped, and drank themselves silly before driving home. When he was a dog, Cole had to wait outside, watching him through the window, listening as best he could through the parking lot noise. Tonight was much easier. Sure, there was jukebox noise and the chatter of the locals, but Seamus got louder when he was drinking, and Cole’s hearing really was the best thing about his new life.
“Boss man, maybe we should talk about this at your place,” Billy Jack said to him, but Cole could practically hear the old poacher shake him off.
“Cain’t nobody hear us and, besides, this town will be thanking us soon enough. I found the honey-hole.” He lowered his voice so Cole had to turn an ear toward them, strain a little to hear. “I followed my daughter out to the swamp last week and saw them. Her and Liam. He Changed right there in front of her. And when I went back the next day, I saw tons of tire tracks and big slides from his gator. That must be his favorite spot to go monster.”