Total pages in book: 55
Estimated words: 50954 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 255(@200wpm)___ 204(@250wpm)___ 170(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 50954 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 255(@200wpm)___ 204(@250wpm)___ 170(@300wpm)
“What are you doing here, sweetie?” Candy tried not to sound shocked or unwelcoming. She was thrilled to see her son. Of course. Naturally. She wasn’t a monster.
“Utah’s boring. I got on a bus.”
“Your father didn’t see fit to tell me you were coming,” Candy noted.
“I didn’t tell him. I just left.”
“Okay. Well. It’s good to see you,” Candy said, opening her arms. Carter ignored the hug.
“Hungry,” he said, heading for the kitchen. Candy followed after him, glad he didn’t seem to have noticed Ivan. She hoped Ivan would have the sense to tidy himself up a bit, or even better, take refuge in the garden shed outside.
Carter had stopped just inside the kitchen door. It didn’t look like it used to. There had been some damage, from various activities. Candy swept past him and began running water and wiping down counters. There was a butt-print next to the sink, outlined in a hedonic mixture of strawberries and cream.
“What happened to the cabinets?”
Candy could hardly say she’d been swinging from them, so she didn’t. “Oh, well, honey, I’ve been thinking about doing some renovations…”
“Why does it smell like a wet dog? And why is there fur everywhere?”
Carter was the son of a detective. He missed nothing.
“Fuck,” he said. “Give me the fucking toaster and the strudel. I’ll take it to my room.”
It was Candy’s house rule that there was no eating in the bedrooms, but Carter’s room was probably one of them only two places in the house that didn’t currently look like the inside of a feral wolf den. She’d let herself go. She’d let everything go.
“Toaster pastry? Sounds good.” Ivan appeared in the doorway, leaning against it with one arm up by his head. He hadn’t bothered to put a shirt on. The thick pelt of his chest hair was very nearly a shirt, Candy supposed desperately.
“Who are you?” Carter asked the obvious question.
“I’m your uncle,” Ivan said.
“On whose side?”
“Your mom’s,” Ivan said.
“So you’re my mom’s brother?”
“Sure.”
Carter rolled his eyes. “Whatever. Dad’s banging some chick anyway.”
“Carter!” Candy snapped his name. “Don’t talk about your father that way. Also, what woman?”
“She runs the counter at the auto shop. Her name’s Sharona. Or something.”
“Can’t exactly get angry with him for cheating,” Ivan commented.
“Carter, sweetie,” Candy said. “Take the toaster and go to your room, Uncle Ivan and I need to talk.”
Two long years later…
The divorce had been final for six months. Candy was, if not happy, at least, happier. Ivan had moved into the house. There hadn’t really been much choice. Where else was he going to go? Will and Maddox had gone to ground in their own abode. In the beginning, Candy had argued that they would soon be in touch, but Ivan told her they were done with her, and that had proved to be right. Everyone in Maddox’s inner circle besides William had been abandoned. There were rumors that the pack master himself had been taken, though nobody knew if that was true or not. Candy rarely thought of any of it anymore. She had come full circle, pressed against the thick pelt of the wolf she had taken into her bed.
Her daughter had chosen to stay in Utah with Chuck and Sharona. Carter had wanted to graduate with his class. It was a pipe dream, as the sickness had ensured there were no classes. He’d abandoned his studies and instead was now planning on being an online gamer and basketball player. Once upon a time, Candy would never have allowed that. Now she realized that nothing really mattered. The world seemed to be ending, one way or another.
One mundane evening, Candy and Ivan lay wrapped in one another’s arms, watching a television show about people trying to buy houses on islands. It was a blandly pleasant distraction from the myriad of disturbing thoughts that threatened to assail her if she ever took stock of her life.
A knock at the door blended into the conversation about kitchens that needed to be redone.
“Come in!” Ivan called out reflexively. They had become accustomed to guests bearing their takeout orders. Candy didn’t remember ordering anything, but then again, Ivan might have ordered it. Or perhaps she’d forgotten. She forgot a lot these days.
The door flew open with a dramatic gust of wind. Gideon stood in the doorway, a tall, powerful, regal beast clad in modern clothing that did nothing to make him look any less historic. There was something ancient in his bearing even before his grin showed his twin fangs.
“Gideon!” Candy gasped the monster’s name. She was shocked to see him. The life in which she had worked for Maddox seemed distant. Her roles as police officer and wife had been all but erased by the sickness. She was a woman hardly recognizable to herself, freer, but much more feral.