At some point, I realized I was heading toward Marshall's apartment. I needed to talk to someone and for them to tell me I hadn't lost my mind.
But what would I say? "Hey, remember that hot goalie I've been seeing? He turns into a literal wolf."
My hands wouldn't stop shaking on the steering wheel. I couldn't hold it properly and kept having to adjust my grip.
The memory of last night swerved back into my memory. He'd touched me and kissed me as if I was the love of his life. I was furious more with myself for ignoring when he'd said relationships were complicated for him.
There's a whole part of my life you'd have to be patient about.
He'd tried to warn me. I'd thought he meant his career and the associated fame, not that he could turn into a wolf.
I pulled over in some random parking lot and leaned my forehead against the steering wheel. I tried to get air into my lungs but my chest hurt with each breath.
What the heck was I supposed to do now?
The wolf's eyes had been gray like Renard's eyes. I'd seen that and hadn't understood. When he was caught between forms with the wrong face and desperate sound. And afterward, there was Renard standing in the stream devastated.
I'm still the same person.
But how could he be?
I sat in that parking lot for ages, staring at nothing and trying to figure out the impossible. Renard could turn into a wolf. He was a shifter and I'd run from him as if he was a monster.
I drove to Marshall’s because where else was I supposed to go. He opened his door in sweats with a half-eaten bowl of cereal and his expression went from confused to alarmed.
"Julian? Are you hurt?"
How could I explain what I'd seen without sounding bonkers? My guy turned into a wolf this morning. Not a metaphor. An actual wolf.
"Come in. Sit down." He pulled me inside. "You're shaking. Talk to me."
"I can't." My voice sounded far away. "I found out something about Renard and I can't tell you what it is."
"Did he hurt you?"
"No. It's not that."
Marshall sat beside me, but didn't push. That was the thing about Marshall. He always knew when to stop asking. He made me tea while I stared at the wall, and when I said I needed to go, he walked me to the door.
"Whatever it is, you don't have to figure it out today." He squeezed my arm. "Call me tomorrow."
I wouldn't. Not because I didn't want to, but because every conversation about Renard now had a wall through the middle of it. The truth on one side, Marshall on the other, and me stuck between them.
NINE
RENARD
Julian wasn't answering his phone.
I'd called seventeen times, left nine voicemails and sent fourteen texts that had all gone unread. The green message bubbles mocked me as I studied them.
My wolf was howling inside me and clawing at my ribs.
Our mate is scared and you have to fix it.
But I didn't know how to.
I'd spent days pacing my house, staring at my phone and willing it to ring. The Storm had a game tonight, but Coach had benched me after I'd shown up to practice and let in eight goals during drills. I couldn't think about anything except the horror on Julian's face when he'd seen me shift.
