Waindale

Adam’s father is an intimidating man. He keeps to himself, is quiet, and has this certain stare that I have never seen before; it’s hard but compassionate, and I see it when he looks at Adam’s mother. Adam’s father and I have exchanged very few words over these weeks, but that seems to be enough. Adam’s mother always does the majority of the talking, even from his perspective. When he doesn’t feel like speaking—which is often—she voices his opinions for him. I think Adam’s father has seen many terrible things. In his stare, it seems as if he is simultaneously sifting through memories, ones that are memorable for a reason.

Alexander accidentally drops his fork, and the sudden clattering sound pulls me from my trance. I must have been looking at Adam’s father for longer than I thought. He doesn’t necessarily look like Adam, but there are a few features that they share like their dark eyes and strong nose.

“Excuse me,” Alexander apologizes.

I send him a smile. He must be a little unnerved dining in the presence of Adam’s parents, the previous Alpha and Luna. I know I was the first few times.

“Dinner is delicious, Ester.”

My eyes immediately snap to Adam’s father. The words left his lips, but his mouth is closed by the time I look. Adam’s mother nods and says, “Thank you. Wrenley was a big help.”

The name leaves my lips like both a whisper and a question.

She glances at me. “Yes, Wrenley. That is my name. We all have one.”

“It’s just—I didn’t know. I suppose I should have asked a while ago,” I explain. I peer to Adam’s father and he looks down at his plate, more interested in his meal than telling me his name. “Anyway, it’s a pretty name. Ester.”

Adam’s mother shakes her head a little then takes a bite. I glance at Alexander and he’s rather amused.

“So,” I continue, having broken the seal on my lips, “What do you two do out there? How do you look for him?”

Alexander looks to Adam’s father, but his eyes are still on his plate and his mouth is busy chewing. “Well,” Alexander says, “we try to pick up his scent. We also look for any marking he may have left behind. It’s tedious because we aren’t sure which direction he went in, so we have to scope out everything.”

“How far do you go?”

“Yesterday we reached the border to Canada, so, pretty far. By now he could be across the country, though. That’s if he planned on taking a straight route, and, well, planned on going across the country. Next, we’re crossing over into Oregon.”

I take in a short breath before saying, “You should stop.”

Everyone’s eyes are quickly on me.

“There’s no use. Don’t waste your time and energy.”

“Wrenley,” Adam’s mother cuts in, “now is not the time.”

We finish dinner and Alexander and Adam’s father retire to rest up for their journey tomorrow. I help Ester clean up the kitchen, but we do so in silence. She rinses the dishes and puts them in the dishwasher while I walk back and forth between the dining room and kitchen, collecting them for her. With the last plate in hand, I mindlessly enter the kitchen, but the dish drops to the tiles and shatters at my feet. Ester jumps in surprise and questions, ”What on Earth?”

My body is stiff; my eyes unwavering.

"Wrenley?”

Adam’s mother comes to me and begins gathering the white shards of glass. “Goddess, Wrenley, will you at least answer? Is it the baby? Is something wrong? Does it hurt?”

Her eyes aim up at me, and I look down at her, connecting our gazes. “I-I—”

"Is it the baby?"

“I feel him,” I say suddenly.

The shards of glass fall from her hand as she springs up and grabs my shoulders—her motherly instincts kicking in. “You feel him? Adam? He’s near?”

It’s like a drop of water on a dry tongue. Once I have a little, I crave more. I move out of her hold and cling to the counter as I survey the outside through the bay window. The thought of seeing him again, of feeling him, sends my heart into overdrive. My hands begin to shake, and when I let go of the counter, I cross my arms to contain them.

“I have to go out there,” I blurt, turning back to Ester.

She’s unsure—something I have yet to see from her. Words fail to leave her lips as her chest rises and falls.

“I’m going out there. I’ll be careful.”

“Okay. Okay. Just, please—watch yourself. I’m going to wake his father.”

“No,” I breathe. “No. Just, give me a moment. I need to see him alone.”

Her lips press together. She stares at me. “Fine. Go. Just bring him back.”

I rush to the backdoor and slip out into the night. From his mother’s perspective, I must look insane hurrying through what’s left of last night’s snowfall without a jacket or even a pair of shoes. My socks grow heavy as they soak up water, but the lack of coldness is the last thing on my mind. The moon is so incredibly bright, and the sky is clear, and the moonlight causes everything to glow around me with tinges of blue and green. It feels like an alien land, and I power through, an alien myself.

The feeling in my chest slowly blooms. There isn’t a scent for me to follow or footsteps on the forest floor, but my feet carry me in the right direction. The winter air drys my throat. Gusts of breath plum from my lungs and smoke out before me. My mind is both full and empty and until I see him, it won’t sort out.

It’s dangerous for me to be out here alone, not because of the temperature, or the things that lurk, but because of my father who may just kill me by returning more power. Simultaneously, I watch for him and Adam, looking behind every tree, up at every branch. My father could be perched up there like a bird, stalking from above.

My feet halt. I steadily spin, taking in all of my surroundings.

“Adam?”

Shadows move around me like the ghosts of past girls that wandered into the woods at night. I swallow, knowing that if I stand still, my father may appear.

“Adam?” I call again, louder.

I step and turn and he’s there. Those yellow eyes that once haunted me are here again, and behind them is the large, black body of a wolf. My chest falls as all air draws out from my lungs. “Adam?” I ask again. “W-What are you—where have you been?”

It doesn’t feel like I’m talking to him. I never felt close to this side of him, not like I do to his human form. Something about the wolf has always unsettled me.

“Come home,” I say, my voice smaller. “Please.”

The wolf steps then steps again, and I watch as it circles me.

“This is torture—not knowing what you’re thinking, not knowing where you’ve been. Why did you leave? I woke up and you weren’t there. You’re mother told me that you just left. Why? Damn it, Adam, change! Talk to me!”

In one breath, the wolf stands tall but immediately shrinks. The thick coat of fur is absorbed into human flesh, and its limbs morph into the familiar body of my mate. It is a bizarre scene, to watch a beast become man, but when I’m face to face with Adam—the Adam I know—all thoughts fade away. I clench my jaw, attempting to hold back tears.

His eyes bore into mine. His hair has grown, especially on his face where stubble is not so stubbly anymore. To my surprise, he does not look weak, but stronger. The sight of him riles up more emotion than I was prepared to handle, and all I can do to compose myself is turn away. Pressure builds in my throat, and I realize I am not breathing.

“I know I was selfish,” I murmur, “but I never thought you would leave me. I-I know I could never leave you.”

“You nearly killed yourself,” he says, his voice causing my chest to squeeze. “I couldn’t bear it if you died.”

I look at him, confused and frustrated. Part of me expected him to hold me, to need to touch me, but he stands there utterly unaffectionate.

“I did it for you.”

“You say that, Wrenley,” he says, nearing me, “but if you truly wanted to do anything for me, you would have listened. You would have stayed far from your father. That is what I wanted. What you did—killing yourself—that is what you wanted.”

He’s in front of me now, painfully close. “It’s not what I wanted, and maybe it wasn’t what you wanted either, but it’s what you need. You need it, but you refuse to acknowledge that.”

“Do not tell me what I need.”

“Everyone knows it! God, Adam, why won’t you let me do this? Why won’t you let me provide for you the one thing I must while I can?”

“We aren’t having this conversation again.”

“We weren’t having any conversations! You left! You thought I was dying, and you left me. You left me. Why?”

Adam watches me. “I wanted to be far away if you died. There was nothing I could do to help you. What your father gives you, what nearly killed you—I can’t stop it. I can’t make it better. It was up to you whether you lived or died, and if you didn’t make it, I couldn’t be there.”

“So what? You waited until enough time had passed, assuming I was alive?”

“Either you were alive, or I was going to find you still laying in that bed.”

I blink away my tears, wanting to stay strong. Adam’s nakedness becomes quite apparent, so I slip off my stretchy pants and throw them at his chest. He manages to squeeze into them, making it easier to look his way without getting distracted.

“Your parents are here,” I say, emotionless. “Your father has been looking for you with Alexander for weeks, hardly resting. Ben has taken over your responsibilities.”

“And you?”

I look into his eyes, numb. “Don’t worry about it.”

We walk back to the house, maintaining a distance that only breaks my heart even more. I stand back while his mother shouts at him like he is still her child, while she argues with him and ultimately relaxes now that he is back. His father promptly comes downstairs after hearing Ester’s shouts. Adam doesn’t say much to his father, and at this point, I head upstairs, wanting to be alone. I run into Alexander in the hallway. I tell him what is going on, and he heads downstairs as well.

I close the bedroom doors behind me, then face the darkness of the room with an encumbering sadness sitting on my chest. My tears flow freely now, streaming down my cheeks like there is a faucet behind my eyes. No sounds erupt from within me. My lips seal shut.

With slow steps, I make my way to the bed where I eventually lay down and cry onto my pillow. Soon after, the voices from downstairs settle, and footsteps thunder down the hallway. I squeeze my eyes shut, in this moment wishing to return to my state of nothingness where no one could hurt me, where I was beyond everyone’s reach. The footsteps stop at the door, and the door opens, letting in light from the hall.

I expect it to be Adam’s mother, or maybe even Alexander coming to console me, but it’s not. It’s him. Adam closes the door behind him then turns on the bedroom light, revealing my curled-up figure, my red face and wet eyes. I lay in the bed, exposed, as he moves about the room, collecting clothes before entering the bathroom. With the bathroom door open, I hear the shower turn on. Now safe, I stretch out of my ball and sit up on the bed. I look to the bathroom, hearing the consistent sound of raining water.

While he’s in there, I grab a new pair of pants. They’re pajama bottoms that my mom and I got for our Halloween slumber party. It was the Halloween before we moved here. We got themed pajamas and watched horror movies and passed out candy, and, well, ate said candy. I hold the bottoms to my chest, the soft fabric cluttered with pumpkins rubbing against my chin. Such things seem like forever ago now. I took my life for granted, and now I am entangled in what must be considered beyond a mess. The Halloween monsters are real, and I may as well be one of them.

The shower shuts off when I’m lying in bed, under the covers, the bedroom light once again off. Is it sad that I want him to sleep here? I know I shouldn’t, but having him so close yet unreachable is toying with my sanity.

Adam comes out of the bathroom, and I unknowingly hold my breath.

“We need to talk,” he says.