by Godiva Glenn
His brow furrowed, unsure of how to take her observation. “Is that a compliment, or?”
“It’s a fact. You’re big and handsome and you’re usually super sweet and charming. And, as I said before, bear. Protective,” she said firmly. “But you know you did something wrong, and you’re trying to fix it. That means a lot.”
“Trying isn’t doing,” he pointed out.
“You’re hard on yourself. But ask yourself this. Aside from the rudeness earlier—which was just rude, not particularly evil—do you feel the need to rescue me?”
Her eyes were serious, but he wasn’t sure he could answer.
“Come on. You know my past. I’m not great at hiding the chip on my shoulder. But do you feel obligated to fix my life for me? When you look at me do you see a project? Hmm? Any urge to take me under your wing and mold me to be your perfect damsel post-distress?”
“No,” he answered honestly. He didn’t point out the flaw in her reasoning—that he’d been that way with Charlotte because he thought they were destined to mate and start a family. Nancy wasn’t a mate candidate; she was a human friend. And though she somehow pushed the buttons on his hormones, neither he nor his wolf had reason to seek to insert themselves into her life.
The notion of how some lupine chose to build romantic relationships with humans baffled him.
“I think it’s going to be okay,” she said.
“Not sure it’s that easy.”
“I’m aware. Didn’t you say something about ‘easy’ earlier?” The car came to a stop and Nancy leaned forward. “What the hell… is my front door open?”
THREE
Nancy perched on her couch, arms hugging her knees as she stared straight ahead at her TV. But it wasn’t on. Wyatt wasn’t sure if she was looking at her reflection in the black semi-glossy surface or whether she saw anything at all.
“I really don’t know,” she said for perhaps the hundredth time in the last hour.
The police hadn’t been able to do much, and she’d lapsed into the anxious state she was in now. Had someone been in the apartment, or had she forgotten to lock the door? Did the wind blow it open, broken as it was, or had someone else come behind her?
She didn’t know. She couldn’t remember if she had given it the extra tug and locked it. Wyatt couldn’t either. In order for it to properly latch, she had to be rough with it. Otherwise, it would spring back open. She’d explained as much a dozen times to the police.
Regardless, nothing seemed off inside the apartment. There was clutter, or what he assumed was typical human decoration, everywhere, but Nancy insisted nothing looked out of place.
She was still shaken up, though. He didn’t blame her. Whether she’d left her apartment open for anyone to waltz in, or whether someone had broken in, it still meant a violation of privacy. Of home.
Sitting down on her tan sofa, he put his arm around her shoulders. “What can we do to take your mind off things?”
“Get the maintenance to fix the fucking door,” she muttered. “I’ve been complaining about it for months. They don’t listen.”
“They’ll listen now,” he promised. “Or I’ll fix it.”
She shot up from the couch and began pacing her living room carpet. “It’s a habit to lock the door.”
“Probably.”
“But everyone makes mistakes. It’s not like I’ve never forgotten to pull it shut all the way. Just like it’s not like I’ve never locked my keys in my car.”
He caught and held her, shaking her gently until she looked up at him. The wide panic in her eyes made her look a little more owl-like but he pushed the thought aside. “Either way, it’s going to be okay.”
“Someone could have been in here, waiting for me.”
There was no debating that, so he pulled her close. Of all times, this seemed to be one that needed hugging. Seeing her frantic had killed his horny needs for now. He wanted to see her safe.
“Will you stay?” she asked.
The thought had already crossed his mind, and the tremble in her voice made it up for him. “Of course. I’ll take the couch.”
“It’s a terrible couch,” she apologized.
“I’ve slept on worse, trust me.” He kissed the top of her head and froze in the action. He hadn’t meant to do it.
If she noticed, she didn’t comment. She pulled away, though, and took a deep breath. “Okay. I have extra pillows… a blanket.”
“I sleep hot.” And naked, when it was possible.
Her mouth twitched at that, and she looked him over. Some of the distance left her eyes. “Of course you do.”
* * * *
Wyatt woke to the soft, shuffling sound of footsteps. He yawned silently and blinked a few times. In the dark, Nancy was pacing before him. Her hands toyed with her long sleep-shirt at her sides, and with every step, her pajama pants brushed the floor. He wasn’t sure if she wanted to talk or whether this was her thing. If she gained comfort from walking her living room, he didn’t think it best to bother her.
Plus, he was tired as hell and her couch was truly a nightmare of lumps. His spine would never be the same. He was tempted to shift to reorganize his bones.
Light shone through the blinds of the apartment, a soft, glowing mixture of moonlight and the street lamps that lined the many buildings. The result, combined with his sensitive lupine vision, lit up Nancy’s face as plain as day to him.
Her eyes were puffy, though no tears currently clung to them. The liveliness he’d seen before had been completely drained away. Her brow was creased, and her lips moved slightly as if she were talking to herself. But he heard nothing.
She sat at the end of the couch, where his legs were stretched out. Her hand lifted and touched him cautiously. “Wyatt?”
“Yes?”
He’d been laying half on his side and now rose his arm, somehow knowing what she wanted. She lay down in front of him and tucked as close to him as possible. Tears scented her hair and tore at his heart.
He didn’t know what had happened tonight. If some intruder had been in the room, it was impossible to detect even for him. Nancy’s apartment had smelled faintly like smoke and apple spice candles, not to mention the lingering scents of half a dozen humans, all of which were new to him. Not being able to offer an answer or solution was torture.
This wasn’t how it was supposed to be. His interactions with humans were always brief and shallow. His acquaintance with Nancy was light and fun, and he’d meant to keep it that way. All he knew now was that if someone had entered into her space uninvited, that someone was in trouble.
The natural instinct to protect his pack had slipped to cover Nancy now. There was turmoil with the decision. Hadn’t she told him that he had a problem with trying to be the white knight, which from context he took as meaning a hero? And hadn’t he already assessed the same of himself?
But this is a real threat, not something perceived in order to make me feel needed. Plus, he was doing what any decent sentient being would do. He’d already agreed to stay the night, and now he suspected that he’d stay in town as long as necessary to make sure she was okay.
The only problem…
Shit. Nancy readjusted herself, which meant her ass rubbed right against him, calling forth his blood to pool at exactly the wrong moment. He held his breath. Way to keep it cool and light. Way to make her feel safe.
But instead of freaking out, she simply rolled over so that she faced him, instead.
“Sorry,” he whispered.
“I’m the one crawling into bed with you, uninvited.”
“It’s a couch.”
“Should I go?” She shifted as if to leave. “I thought it would be comforting, but if you end up uncomfortable it doesn’t make sense.”
“Stay.”
He almost expected more of an argument, but she tucked her head under his chin and held him tight. This close there was no escaping the scent of her. And of course, the feel of her. His wolf was suspiciously absent.
This type of intimacy, even though the root was platonic, should have stirred his other side to investigate.
He expected growls or distaste, but no. Nothing. He closed his eyes and searched inside himself. His wolf was sleeping. Content.
The realization made him identify his own exhaustion. Whatever was going on, they’d figure it out in the morning.
FOUR
A light mist of rain accompanied Wyatt and Nancy as they walked downtown the following day. It seemed to symbolize Nancy’s mood well, and Wyatt couldn’t seem to pull her out of the slump.
The apartment had someone fixing the door while they were out, but it was a minor victory with little emotional gain. A miracle of some sort was going to be required.
“We never talk about your job,” he said, starting a conversation out of the silence.
She shrugged lazily. “That’s because my job is boring. I’m a bookkeeper.”
“Like at a library?”
Her mouth twisted to one side and she looked quizzically at him. “No. Are you saying that because I look like the librarian type?” She shook her head. “I do the books for a charity that does art therapy.”
“You do books,” he repeated. “Books you… keep. Upkeep?”
“You have no idea what I’m talking about.”
“I really don’t,” he admitted.
“How do you not… I handle a facet of the accounting. I track spending and spit it out in a format easy for the owners to understand their revenue and do their taxes.”
The information slid into place. “Oh. Those books. But how is art therapy?”
“Utilizing creativity is therapeutic to many individuals. Instead of looking at structure and technique, the organization focuses on the emotions as a driving force, allowing individuals to work out stress, depression, pain or anything like that through a flexible medium,” she said in a tone that suggested she’d said it a hundred times or more in the past.
Though she seemed blasé about it at the moment, he refused to believe that it wasn’t something she cared about. “Like Mija’s paintings of wolves.”
She gave him a curious look. “What do you mean?”
Mija’s husband was killed when Charlotte was a baby, and to cope she constantly painted wolves—wolves that matched his natural wolf form. It’s how she’d met Nancy, in fact. Yet Nancy wouldn’t know this, as she had no idea Mija and her husband were lupine. “Ah… I thought maybe Mija mentioned painting wolves because Kyu-Jun liked them? Or maybe that was his spirit animal?” He faltered. “Or maybe I’m wrong.”
“Oh.” Nancy smiled softly. “Yes. Mija said something like that to me, as well. Her paintings were breathtakingly realistic. She wasn’t a part of the organization, but I suppose painting was certainly therapy for her. I often thought perhaps she had some wolf in her, as well.”
Wyatt stifled a laugh. It almost felt criminal to hide the truth from Nancy, but it was amusing to see her take on things. He was still coming to terms with her appraisal of him as a bear. The comparison was meant to be a compliment, so he tried hard to take it that way, even if it was a little insulting to be told his spirit animal was a beast.
“Since you enjoy painting and sketching, I guess you must enjoy your job? Even if it’s a little boring?”
“Not really.” She stopped outside a shop, her eyes studying the colorful dress on display in the window. “When I found out about the organization I wanted to be involved. Bookkeeping was all they needed help with. And in the last few years, I’ve never gotten a chance to actually work with the art side of things.”
“Oh.”
“I know I look the type. Dorky and boring. But this isn’t the career I want. It’s only something I’m good at. Or mediocre at. Who knows? It’s hard to tell, honestly.”
“You aren’t dorky or boring, and I’m sure you’re great at your job,” he countered. “But is that part of your fresh start? Finding a new job?”
“Yeah.” She turned away from the store’s display. “Easier said than done. I don’t know what I want my career to be, aside from not what it currently is.”
Advice escaped Wyatt entirely. Nothing he was saying was cheering her up, and he certainly didn’t know what to say when it came to the world of human job opportunities. Pack life was much easier.
He looked up to the sky. At some point, the clouds had slipped away, and no more sporadic raindrops were harassing them.
“Looks like the weather has cleared. We can go to that cafe you like with the giant fish.”
She gave him a crooked smile. “How do you know about that place?”
“You have a pattern. Mija told me about it, in case I needed to find you.”
“You mean I’m predictable.” She pursed her lips and shook her head while he fumbled for a response. “Nah. I get it. But that’s part of why I need a fresh start.”
She started walking and he followed her. “There’s nothing wrong with being predictable. Especially if you think of it as being reliable.”
“Nice try,” she said with a soft smile. “But I know I do the same things over and over. It’s this town. To visitors, tourists, it’s quirky and fun. But since I’ve been here so long, I know what I like and what I don’t. I’ve tried every restaurant and attraction. There’s nothing new.”
“Wouldn’t any place be like that?”
“Maybe. But I have to get out there to find out.”
They walked the next few blocks in silence, partially because Nancy was smiling now, and Wyatt didn’t want to say something to take it away. Once they arrived at the cafe, she beelined to a small table next to the full wall aquarium. He didn’t know which was stranger, the fish that would be chilling next to his meal or the massive goldfish swimming underneath the plexiglass floor.
“If you step outside on the patio, you can see them in the pond,” Nancy said, noticing his eyes on the ground.
“They don’t serve fish here, do they?”
She chuckled. “No. That would be cruel. There’s not even a tuna salad on the menu.”
He studied the appetizers and sandwiches, trying to decide how hungry he was. “What is hummus?” She didn’t answer and he looked up to find her staring out the window with a severe frown. “Nancy?”
She shook her head and glanced at him. “Sorry, thought I saw… Nothing.” She lifted her menu. “What is what?”
He looked out the window as if he could magically see whatever it was that had caused her heart to race. The crowd was just a crowd. No one and nothing stood out. But a chill crawled up his arm. His wolf sensed something he couldn’t, and that was never a good thing.
* * * *
“You don’t want to talk about? Someone told me that talking about things generally makes them better,” Wyatt said collapsing on Nancy’s couch.
She gave him a dirty look as she crossed the room and peeked out of her front window. Their day out had spiraled downward after the restaurant, but even though it had affected her mood, she’d pretended to be fine.
Finally, she sat on the far side of the couch and sat facing him with one leg tucked underneath her.
“I thought I saw Brent,” she mumbled. “And not just thought. It was definitely him.”
“It’s not a small world,” Wyatt pointed out.
“It’s not,” she said with a sigh.
He loaded a follow-up question and prepared to sink himself in a ship. “Then seeing him upsets you because… do you feel something?”
She scrubbed a hand down her face with a groan. “No. Definitely not like that.”
“Then what? It feels like I’m missing a substantial portion of this conversation.”
Pulling a mocha throw pillow to her chest and hugging it, she avoided his eyes. “It’s the way things ended. The way I ended it.”
Wyatt scooted closer and propped himself up with one hand on the back of the couch. Part of him had no interest in delving further into the human drama, and yet he truly wished to get to the bottom of things.
“Right…”
“I know, I know.” She shook her head. “It was such an obvious lie, but at the time I expected more from him, for whatever reason. Plus, I’d met his mom before. She’s not the sturdiest woman. I figured, ‘what’s the harm’ because I had no feelings for him.”
Wyatt resisted listing all the possible harms and instead remained quiet, giving her an encouraging nod.
“While she was in town we met for ‘dates’ and ugh… he was really good at being a decent guy. So good that I thought he’d actually changed. He’d been going to anger management, he started a new job in the next city, his life had changed—so why couldn’t he?” She met Wyatt’s eyes. “But I didn’t fall for him again. I acknowledged that he may have been a better person, but that didn’t mean we would hook up.”
“And yet…”
“We’re getting there. His mom stuck around for a week and a half, and unless she was dying of something super mysterious, she wasn’t appearing to have any outward symptoms. That cemented my apathy for Brent, and when she was gone, I cut him off.” Nancy shifted on the couch. “But he thought we’d done such an excellent job pretending to be a happy couple, it must’ve been a sign. He refused to believe it was over and when I put my foot down, the fight was bad. Scary, actually.”
“Did he threaten you?” The small hairs on the back of Wyatt’s neck rose.
“No,” she reassured him, shaking her head emphatically. “I mean physically he intimidated me, but he didn’t threaten to hurt me. In the end, he backed off and said he was done with me. He was in the process of moving anyways. I thought it was done. Over.”