When I see Hester, words fail me.
Why did I run over here?
These are my problems. I doubt my neighbor really cares.
In a voice colder than the Colorado winter, she asks, “Who hurt you?”
“I—” The word cuts off on a sob.
I hurt me,I meant to say.I did this.
“Come inside. Now.” She’s no-nonsense, a surprisingly strong grip wrapping around my upper arm.
She leads me into a sitting room decked out like a parlor from some period film. Like I stepped intoDownton Abbey. The scene is taken a step further when she returns a minute later with tea.
“Drink this entire cup, then tell me who hurt you so I know which weapon to prepare.”
I snort out a watery chuckle, but when I meet her eyes, my neighbor looks entirely serious.
And her intensity comforts me.
The tea tastes of a strange mixture of spices I can’t parse apart, but the final note has some sort of heat to it. Like cayenne. The burn helps clear some of the thickness in my sinuses.
Hester’s eyes pierce mine. “Tell me,” she commands.
And I do. Starting with my feelings at the diner and finishing with the memories of my ex. I leave out the names and places from my past, but I give her enough so she understands not only what happened, but the horrible tangle of thoughts I can’t seem to pull from my mind.
When I’m done, my face feels swollen and tight from crying. My body feels empty.
But there’s also a small sense of relief. Comfort that I could speak these words aloud, and now someone else knows.
Hester let me talk without interruption, and now she studies me, her fathomless eyes seeming to pick apart every piece of me.
“Your past has shown you darkness the wolves can possess. Though not too different from humans, I’d argue.” She sips her own tea before setting it on a saucer with a delicate clink. “There are plenty of good men in this world. Plenty in this town. Some are even wolves. But being good does not mean he has the right to your body, your mind, or your heart.”
A good man does not have the right …
Not really a sentiment women are taught. And that’s why hearing Hester speak the words means so much to me. To know that she won’t tell me to mate with Roderick just because he’s kinder than my ex.
But even though the Pine Falls pack leader doesn’t automatically have the right to every piece of me, there’s a part of me that doesn’t mind giving him access. As long as he asks my permission.
After a pause, I answer, “Can’t I let Roderick have those things without being my mate?”
“Temporarily?”
Again, I allow myself a moment to think. Then I shake my head. “Maybe forever.”
Hester steeples her fingers. “Well, that’s what mating is. Did you think it was something else?”
Defensiveness tightens my shoulders. “There’s a difference between having and controlling. I can’t let someone else control me. Never again.”
Her lips tighten, and her shadow, thrown over the wall by the lamp on the table, seems to darken and lengthen.
But that can’t be right. I’m tired, and my mind is playing tricks.
“Give me a name.” My neighbor uses a coaxing whisper. “Tell me who hurt you.”
And I almost do.
