by S. M. Reine
The instant she was out of the kitchen and into the yard, Rylie seized Gwyn’s hands. Words spilled out of her in a rush. “When I tried to pick my mom up from the airport, I ended up tangled with the Union at the security checkpoint. I don’t know how it happened, but they know that I’m a werewolf, my face is on the news, and they’re going to come for me.”
Gwyn’s face was pinched into a mask of death—which wasn’t saying much, considering that she was a zombie now. Very little shook her. “Fine. You’ll just have to clear out sooner than expected.”
“I’ll get the money,” Abel said. With a final squeeze of Rylie’s shoulders, he stepped out.
“What am I going to do about Jessica?” Rylie asked, hand clapped to her forehead. “I can’t just disappear. She’ll know something’s wrong.”
“Tell her the truth,” Gwyn said.
“No way.”
Gwyn shrugged. “I’ll make up excuses for you. Go grab your stuff.”
Rylie had never thought her aunt looked more beautiful. She grabbed Gwyn’s cheeks in both hands. “I love you,” she said, planting a fierce kiss on her forehead.
“Yeah, right, don’t get all mushy,” Gwyn said, but she was smiling.
Rylie darted into the hallway, yanking open the closet and grabbing the backpack off of the floor. It had to weigh at least fifty pounds, but it felt like tossing a pillow over her back.
She turned to head out the front door, and came face-to-face with her mother.
“My word, that girl is sweet,” Jessica said. “She looks familiar, too. Have we met before? Does she come from the city, too?”
Rylie’s heart sank. “No, she’s a…transfer student.” She took a step to move around her mom, but the hallway was narrow, and there was no escaping Jessica.
“Are you going somewhere?” she asked, following Rylie into the living room.
“Just going out to the truck,” Rylie said. “I forgot something.”
“Is Abel really your boyfriend?”
She stopped. Turned to face her mother.
Was Abel her boyfriend? It seemed like the stupidest understatement possible of how significant their relationship was. What they meant to the werewolves, and to each other.
“That’s what he said, isn’t it?” Rylie asked.
“Well, it’s just…” Jessica twisted her hands. “He’s black, Rylie.”
Shocked laughter jumped from her mouth before she could silence herself. “What?”
“You don’t call me anymore, you tell me nothing about your life. I just didn’t expect it. That’s all I’m saying.”
“No, Mom, that’s not all you’re saying,” Rylie said, completely forgetting that she had been on the way to the pickup. “I can’t believe that’s coming from you, the woman who volunteered to give a sermon about acceptance at our church. You used to tell me you’d love anyone that treated me as good as I deserve—”
“Does he?” Jessica asked, flustered. “Does he treat you well?”
“Yes,” Abel said. He had appeared in the doorway, sucking the air out of the room, rendering Rylie speechless. “Your daughter is my world, Mrs. Gresham, and I love her.”
Rylie felt like she was going to wither away.
How much had he heard of the conversation? It was the first time that Abel met her mother, and Jessica immediately said one of the most humiliating things possible. “He’s black.” Yeah, Mom, no kidding. I hadn’t even noticed.
On the other hand, there was the love thing. That felt…incredible.
Her cheeks were never going to stop burning.
Jessica blushed furiously, too. Her hand fluttered to her earrings, her necklace. She knew that he had heard what she said, and she was mortified—probably not because she realized what a stupid thing it was to say, but because her inner businesswoman balked at saying anything offensive publicly. It was a PR nightmare waiting to happen.
“It’s just so fast,” she told Rylie without looking at Abel.
That was exactly what Rylie had said the night before. She wanted to crawl under the floor and die.
“Yeah, well, he’s great,” Rylie said lamely. Abel’s eyes sparked. Fantastic, now she had offended him, too. “Look, I really need to…do something.”
Summer appeared in the doorway behind Abel.
“Rylie? Can I talk to you?” she asked, her voice a little higher pitched than usual. She was stressing about something.
Abel took her backpack. “I’ll meet you outside.”
Summer was grinning like a maniac, her face fixed into a mask. “No, don’t go outside. Why don’t you wait in here with Jessica? We’ll be right back.”
Worst idea ever? Worst idea ever.
Rylie pushed her into the hall without waiting to see what Abel would do.
She lowered her voice to a whisper. “What are you doing, Summer? Are you crazy?”
“There are three black SUVs outside,” Summer whispered back.
“Here? Right now?”
“No, in an hour from now. Yes, right now, Rylie. You need to sneak out the back. I’ll have Abel circle the pickup around. We only have the green one now, so it’s going to be a tight fit.”
“But Jessica—”
“Go,” Summer urged.
Rylie slammed through the kitchen and out the back door. The tomatoes really were getting nice and ripe; their fragrance mingled with the wet, earthy odor of soil and herbs. Her mom’s perfume hung over it all. Oh God. What if the Union arrested her mom?
No time to worry about that. She stretched onto her toes to peer over the fence.
Three black SUVs. One more coming around the corner. None of them were marked, but they didn’t need to be. Even mundane humans had come to recognize the Union on patrol these days.
It took zero effort for Rylie to jump over the back fence into the neighbor’s yard. She could have cleared a fence twice its height.
“Whoa!” An old woman stood from the picnic table in the middle of her lawn, chihuahua clutched to her chest. “Are you all right, dear?”
“Sorry!” Rylie whispered.
She didn’t have time to stop. She threw herself over the neighbor’s fence and landed on the opposite sidewalk. A quick scan of the street showed no SUVs—yet. But she heard engines rumbling, and knew they wouldn’t be far behind.
Rylie sprinted across the street and crouched behind a bush just in time for one of the Union SUVs to pass. She barely breathed until they were gone. Through the haze of exhaust, she smelled silver bullets and gun oil. They definitely weren’t there for a congenial visit.
Another inhale, and she scented Abel.
“Thank God,” she whispered, getting out from behind the bush as the pickup skidded to a stop beside her.
The passenger door opened.
Jessica stepped out. “Do you want to sit in the middle?” she asked brightly, cheerfully oblivious to Rylie’s tension.
Rylie shot a Look of Death at Abel over her shoulder. They communicated silently with their eyes. She said, What the heck are you doing, crazy person? And he replied with something like, Don’t look at me like that, woman, I had no choice in the matter. She’s your mother.
Rylie climbed in. “Really?” she whispered as her mother got in behind her.
He shrugged stiffly.
“What sounds good for lunch?” Jessica asked, scrolling down the screen of her smart phone. “I’m not too familiar with the area… Hmm.” Abel slammed on the gas, peeling around the corner. One of the SUVs appeared behind them. Jessica, absorbed in her phone, didn’t notice. “How does Thai sound?”
“I like Thai,” Rylie said faintly, watching the Union accelerate in the rearview mirror.
Abel sped up, too. He punched the radio on.
“I know somewhere,” he rumbled, surprising Rylie. “It’s out of town. You’ll like it.”
“Out of town? But I just got here,” Jessica said.
Rylie gave him another Look. You aren’t seriously thinking about taking my mo
ther to buy the land in the mountains, are you? That’s a five hour drive!
Abel didn’t return her look. He took two quick lefts, then one-eightied to head onto the freeway and out of town. There was no sign of the Union, but Rylie knew they didn’t dare stop. They wouldn’t be far behind.
Looked like they were going on an impromptu road trip with Jessica…whether Rylie liked it or not.
SIX
“HERE? WE DROVE that far to come here?” Jessica asked, gaping at the restaurant that Abel had finally stopped at.
Poppy’s was the kind of quaint, twenty-four hour diner that Rylie had come to recognize as a staple of small towns. The fifties-style exterior with art deco accents was just like Ole Waco back near the Gresham Ranch, as well as half a dozen other diners that Rylie had seen in various small towns.
To her, the weird uniformity of quaint diners was kind of homey and comforting. To her mother, who never ate anywhere without an extensive wine list or organic local vegan fare, it probably looked like a cockroach-infested dive.
Jessica was staring at it in slack-jawed horror, clutching her designer purse under one arm with her other fist clenching her cell phone: the weapons of a city woman far out of her element.
At one of their rest stops, Rylie had asked Abel what he was thinking by bringing Jessica along. All he had said was, “Gwyn didn’t know what to do with her.” Like they did? Yeah, right. Jessica didn’t know what to do with herself.
Rylie forced herself to smile brightly. “Yes. This place. Poppy’s is definitely worth the five hour drive.” Actually, six hours with adequate bathroom breaks for her mother’s pea-sized bladder. Rylie had been convinced the Union would attack them at every rest stop.
“Best milkshakes in the county,” Abel said with confidence.
“Really?” Rylie asked. At her mother’s look, she repeated herself more enthusiastically. “Really! They do have great…milkshakes.” Werewolves didn’t drink milkshakes.
“If you’re certain,” Jessica said, plastering a smile on her face that was just as inauthentic as Rylie’s. “I can’t wait.”
The bell over the door jingled as they entered. Rylie scanned the decorations. The eccentric collection of vintage advertisements, carved wooden bears, and grandmotherly knickknacks were completely unique to Poppy’s, yet somehow looked identical to every other quaint diner Rylie had ever seen. The only difference was that there were no stuffed animal heads, unlike Ole Waco. That was good. Taxidermy did confusing things to Rylie’s werewolf instincts.
“Sit wherever you like,” said a busty, aproned woman from behind the counter—Poppy, presumably.
Abel dropped into a booth and stretched out. He was well over six feet tall, so when he sprawled, he sprawled. His arms stretched over the windowsill and the back of the seat cushion. His legs took up half the space under the table. There were only a few inches of space on the bench beside him. Rylie would have to get cozy to sit with him.
She hesitated, eyes tracing down the muscle ridges underneath his snug black t-shirt. She could just imagine Jessica’s expression if they started cuddling in public.
Rylie sat in the booth across from him.
Abel lifted his eyebrows. Oh man. He did not look happy.
Jessica sat next to Rylie, elbows tucked in, shoulders tense. Her eyes flicked along the over-decorated walls.
“What you want to eat?” Abel asked.
“Um,” Jessica said.
The menu was printed on the first page of a tabletop jukebox catalog. Rylie skimmed the listings: hamburgers, hot dogs, homemade pasta, pie, and, of course, milkshakes.
“I’ll have a milkshake,” Rylie said. “And a hamburger.”
“A hamburger?” Jessica asked.
“You know I’m not a vegetarian anymore, Mom.”
“Even so. All that grease.”
Rylie tried to ignore her mother’s pointed look at her breasts, which had grown considerably during her pregnancy, and probably made her look kind of fat. “They have pasta. It’s probably vegetarian. You should get that.”
Jessica hesitated, raking her teeth over her bottom lip. “A slice of pie, please,” she said, reaching for her wallet.
“I’ve got it,” Abel said. He rose to order at the counter.
Awkward silence filled his absence.
“The food sounds really good, doesn’t it?” Rylie asked.
“Sure,” Jessica said.
Both of them sucked at lying. And her mom’s expression so closely mirrored her own that Rylie couldn’t help but burst into laughter, which she tried to cover with one hand.
Jessica giggled, too.
“I hate milkshakes,” Rylie whispered, knowing that it would do no good. Abel’s hearing was as excellent as hers, and acutely tuned to his Alpha mate. He would have heard her whispering from the other side of the street.
“I’m sure your boyfriend has the best intent in bringing us here. He’s trying to share what he likes with us. That’s…well, that’s very sweet.”
Actually, Abel had probably picked the place because there was no way in heck that the Union would look for them there. But it was the nicest thing Jessica had said all day, and Rylie was going to roll with it.
“He’s very sweet,” she agreed, picking at the lace on her sleeve. “And funny.”
“And muscular,” Jessica said. “I bet that’s fun. Good job.”
“Mom.”
“I wasn’t looking.”
Then how would she have noticed that he was muscular? She decided not to ask. It was better not to know some things about one’s mother.
“We’re going to have to run an errand while we’re here. I hope you don’t mind,” Rylie said, leaning on the window to look at the mountains outside. Somewhere, deep in the trees, was a valley waiting for her and her pack.
“I’ve already driven this far with you two,” Jessica said. “I don’t think we have much choice at this point.”
“It might involve some hiking.”
“…Hiking?”
“You can just wait in the truck,” Rylie said. It would be far preferable to trying to explain why she was throwing half of her trust fund at some guy who talked like he was constantly sucking helium.
Abel flopped into the booth again, giving Rylie a long, hard look that said he had heard her calling him sweet. It was both an angry and sensual expression.
If he had told her that his stare could see through her clothing, Rylie would have believed him. He had a way of stripping her with his eyes that never failed to make her blush. Even sitting next to her mom at some small-town diner, she couldn’t help trembling.
“Want to tell us why you’re visiting, Mrs. Gresham?” Abel asked.
“Oh,” Jessica said. “That.” She thumbed a ring on her left hand. “Well, it’s kind of a long story…”
Rylie hadn’t noticed that her mother was wearing a ring earlier, though she wasn’t sure how she had missed it. The diamond looked like it probably weighed enough to go on every ride at Disneyland.
She grabbed Jessica’s hand. “This isn’t a…?” Rylie couldn’t finish the question.
“I’ve met someone,” Jessica said.
“You meet a lot of people. You’re a CEO.”
“A special someone. His name is Phillip.”
Oh, no. No, no, no.
“He’s an artist—a painter, actually. We went to him to commission portraits of the partners for the office, and—”
Rylie was shaking her head, and she couldn’t seem to stop.
Jessica kept going. “After a while, one thing led to another. We fell in love. Phillip and I—”
“But what about Dad?” Rylie interrupted.
Dad had only died four years earlier. Jessica couldn’t possibly have fallen in love again already. Especially not when the heart attack had been so sudden, so brutal.
Her mother hung her head, brushing a lock of blond hair behind her ear. “Your father and I were already divorcing when he died. I let him go a
long time ago, and I believe he would want me to be happy.”
Somehow, Rylie seriously doubted that Dad would have wanted Jessica marrying some weird painter guy. They hadn’t divorced on good terms. “I can’t believe I’m hearing this,” Rylie said, dropping her head into her hands. Her eyes were blurry, cheeks burning.
“That’s why I needed to tell you in person. I had hoped to do it over a nice dinner, but…” Jessica smiled helplessly. “I suppose this is as good a time as any.”
If they hadn’t driven so far away from home, Rylie would have left at that instant. Forget milkshakes, forget buying real estate, and especially forget her mom’s stupid visit. She would have ripped off her boots and fled into the comfort of her wolf’s animal mind. And she wouldn’t have come back until Jessica was gone.
But now they were stuck in Northgate together, all three of them, and Rylie couldn’t leave.
How could she?
“I hoped you would be my maid of honor,” Jessica said.
Rylie wanted to die. “I need to use the bathroom.”
She didn’t wait for Jessica to stand. She climbed over the table to get out of the booth, ignored the “mister” and “missus” bathroom signs, and fled outside.
Even though she knew, rationally, that she shouldn’t leave Abel and Jessica alone—that her mom was likely to say something horrifyingly rude, maybe even something racist—she couldn’t bring herself to go back inside. Rylie paced up and down the sidewalk, gasping for air.
The wolf itched under her skin, threatening to break free.
The mountains were just a few short minutes away, if she sprinted with werewolf speed. She wouldn’t have to deal with her mom. She wouldn’t have to deal with anyone. She was wolf, she was Alpha; freedom was only a shift away.
A bell jingled.
“What’s your problem?” Abel asked.
Rylie shut her eyes, clenched her fists. Not right now…
His warm presence moved to her back, all but caressing her with his aura. Alpha energy crackled over her. “You’re acting real fucking weird, Rylie.”
She spun on him. When she opened her eyes, she was surprised that her vision was blurred by tears.