Total pages in book: 73
Estimated words: 70338 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 352(@200wpm)___ 281(@250wpm)___ 234(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 70338 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 352(@200wpm)___ 281(@250wpm)___ 234(@300wpm)
“Wolves can smell everything.” He stuffs the sheets into a washing machine and pours the liquid soap in. “My parents totally know that me and my friends use this cabin–that’s what it’s for, really–but I don’t need them to know everything.” He gives me a boyish grin with a waggle of his brows that turns me to soft goo. I love this side of Abe.
The real side. The ordinary-extraordinary young man who washes sheets and tries to be a good son to his parents.
The guy who I know now struggles with a neural condition that he works very hard to hide. Not for himself, but for his father.
My heart–which had been barely beating before–has now come back to a steady rhythm, and it’s pulsing in perfect time with Abe’s.
He starts the washer and stalks to the kitchen. “You hungry?”
“I thought you were trying to get me out of here.”
“I am, but I’m also starving. Being with you is a huge calorie-drain.” He opens the refrigerator and pulls out a carton of milk, which he opens and chugs.
“Because I trigger your neural thing?” There’s something I still don’t understand about that. Why would my scent be any different for him? Why do I set him off?
He meets my eyes over the top of the milk carton. In the light of the refrigerator door, they take on that ice-blue glow. “Something like that,” he says after he finishes gulping down the entire container.
He tosses it in the trash.
“Who keeps this place stocked with food?” I ask.
“My mom, I guess. She knows how hungry growing wolves can get after shifting.”
Loss engulfs me. The pain of not having a mom to do those little things–to make sure I’ve eaten enough or ask about homework or any of the other little things moms do–hits me so hard, I sway on my feet. “That’s sweet,” I manage to choke out. “Moms are…amazing.”
Abe must hear something in my voice because I’m instantly crushed against his chest. “Fuck, Pearls. I’m sorry.”
I soak up the embrace. I’ve been pushing people away for over a year. Not wanting touch. But now that I’m cracked open, now that I feel again, it’s incredible to be held.
It’s also just incredible to experience this pain. This grief. This loss that I held at bay for so long.
Rather than fight it, I lean into it. Let it soak through me. No, that’s not right–it’s coming from the inside out. I’m emitting pain.
And the pain is wonderful. Because it’s me. It’s mine. I’m alive and in pain and actually grieving the loss of my mom.
“No, it’s good. I’m finally feeling it. God, for so long, I thought I was broken. Possibly a horrible daughter. Now I know I was just in an emotional coma or something.” I pull back and look up at Abe.
He cradles my face in his large hands and leans down to put his forehead against mine. “You’re not broken.” He murmurs the words, his breath feathering across my lips. “You’re perfect as you are, Lauren Sterling.” He brushes his lips over mine, then kisses each of my cheeks and my forehead. “The way you grieve or don’t grieve is your own. It’s not right or wrong. It can be in your own time. It seems to me like you had to hit pause on grieving because your dad was a selfish bastard and tried to kill himself.”
A gully opens up right in the middle of my chest. The enormity of our father’s suicide attempt–the terror it provoked in me that I might lose both parents–hits me, threatening to swallow me like a sink-hole. I cling to Abe to stay present. To not disappear again.
“You’re not broken,” Abe murmurs again. “Do you still believe that?”
“When I’m with you, it feels like I could climb out of the wreckage. Like I’ve been in a car accident, and I hit my head. I dreamed the last year away. And now, suddenly, I’m awake. I can see that I’m still trapped in the broken pieces and parts, but I could climb out.”
Abe slides his hand to the back of my head and grips my hair, surprising me with his change from tender to masterful. He lowers his lips to my ear. “When you say things like that, I want to fucking consume you,” he growls.
He pulls away, and his canines glint in the moonlight coming through the window.
A shudder of recognition goes through me although I don’t know what I’m recognizing. My body reacts with a flush of heat. A clenching between my legs. A thrumming need to return to that bedroom.
Wolf-yips sound from a different direction this time.
“Fuck,” Abe mutters, taking my hand. “I need to get you home.”
Chapter Seventeen
Lauren
I wake up late and roll out of bed. My body is sore in all the right places, and I’m surprised to feel a little zip in my step, like the awakening I experienced with Abe last night is still present. I feel alive, even after the adrenaline rush of jumping off a cliff and being chased and tied up by a hot guy has worn off.