I’d often thought Lee had only remained pack Twelfth, to my Eleventh, because that rank put him between me and any lower-ranked wolf trying to climb the ratings. Jonas had been Thirteenth and a hulking fifteen-year-old when Lee left— he’d Challenged and beaten me barely a year later. If Lee had been there, he’d have had to beat Lee first…
Letting my mind drift back was more procrastination. I knew where Lee would be going, eventually. I hurried to the truck.
A faint hint of women’s perfume as I opened the door reminded me of one chore first. This was as good a place as any to hide Peggy’s clothes. I took the hat, dress, and shawl from under the seat, carried them a long way into the woods, and buried them in a swampy hollow under an old log. The surrounding seedlings of young poplar trees would be two feet taller by next year and they hid the spot well.
Then I started the truck and set out back down the rutted drive. Focusing on the bad road kept my mind from wandering places I wasn’t ready to go.
I didn’t know the countryside but once I reached the main road, retracing the way we’d come wasn’t difficult. I passed the accident site. The Sheriff’s cruiser had been towed away, but Chuck’s sedan still sat on the shoulder surrounded by orange cones. I suppressed the urge to go pee on his seats. He’d probably end up selling the car, if it could be repaired. The new owner didn’t deserve that.
The paved two-lane road wound back toward town, and from there I knew my way. Even without that, I felt like I could home in on Lee like I had radar, like we were pack-bonded, though we hadn’t had that connection for twenty-five years.Lee. That way.An illusion, but so strong it made my heart clench.
Circling the driveway to his front door, I kept my eyes peeled for any sight of him. But in truth, even as a determined runner, he’d need two hours to cover the ground I’d driven in fifteen minutes. I parked, got out. This piece of the world shouldn’t have been so familiar already that it brought a lump to my throat, and of course, it wasn’t the simple cabin or the towering pines that mattered, but the man who lived here.
I left the keys in the truck. If he arrived, and decided he needed to run farther from me, I wouldn’t stop him. It might ripme in half, but I never wanted to trap Lee. I could only hope he’d give me a chance.
Zipper chattered at me from overhead as I opened the cabin door. I braced in readiness as the weasel dropped from the rafters to my shoulder.
“I’m honored, small warrior,” I told him, reaching up carefully to stroke his head. He tolerated that for a moment, then nipped my finger and jumped down to pursue his own interests.
Should I pack, in case Lee doesn’t want me here?But I had almost nothing that wasn’t borrowed from him. Packing would take five minutes. Instead, I headed for the kitchen and surveyed the pantry. Lee would be hungry and cranky, with that run after skipping lunch. Feeding him, and myself, reduced the chances of a knock-down drag-out fight by a lot, and cooking would keep my mind and hands busy.
Like a housewife for her man?a voice a lot like my father’s asked. I shoved the thought away viciously. Werewolves cooked, because our metabolism demanded that we eat. Wouldn’t be the first or the tenth time I’d cooked for a friend. Nothing new. Nothing different.
Do you want it to be?
I shoved that thought away even deeper and grabbed the potato peeler.
The potatoes were fried, sandwiches made, and a whole bowl of carrots and celery washed and trimmed before I heard Lee’s footsteps on the gravel outside. There was a moment when he paused. I figured he was looking at the truck.Will he leave, or wait out there till I’m gone?But after that hesitation, he came on steadily. The door opened, closed. Two thumps as he kicked off his boots.
I turned. Lee looked disheveled and sweaty and wrecked beyond a mere run in the woods. I schooled my voice to soundlight and steady. “Hey, you made good time. I have food ready to go on the table.”
Lee blinked at me. “What are you still doing here?”
“Making us lunch?” I pointed.
“Don’t.” The hoarse pain in Lee’s tone made my chest ache. “Don’t do that thing where you pretend you don’t know I’m queer. Where you act like it never happened. Not again.”
“I’m not,” I told him as gently as I could. “We need to talk. But we both know a hungry werewolf is a short-tempered werewolf. I want to talk, not fight.”
“All right. Let me wash my hands.” Lee disappeared into his small bathroom. He took longer in there than mere hygiene required, but after five minutes, he came out, his hands clean and hair combed, his washed face still as stone.
“Sit.” I told him. “Eat.”
“Yes, sir.”
We blinked at each other as that echoed a long way back. “I was only Eleventh,” I pointed out. “I don’t think you ever saidsirto me.”
“Except to annoy Jonas.” Lee hesitated. “After I left, did he…?”
“Beat the crap out of me fair and square? Sure,” I said easily. “He was already ninth by the time I left home. Kid had some moves in a fight, even if he was a skunk.”
“Ah.” Lee picked up a sandwich and bit deep into it, gave a snort like he was surprised how good the flavor was, and dug in. We ate in comfortable silence, like this was just one more meal of the hundreds we’d shared. Zipper came hurrying in to beg a piece of ham from Lee’s sandwich, then devoured the morsel with little growling noises and trotted around to my side of the table.
“Your dad just gave you some,” I told the weasel. “I’m not a soft touch like him.”
Zipper sat up on his hind legs, crossed his front paws, and squeaked at me.
“Well, hell.” I liberated a small fragment of meat from my own meal and held it out.
