Page 32 of Ice King

“Why do I have a feeling you were in on this with the coach?”

“He might have mentioned the idea seeking my approval; however, he didn’t seek her out with you in mind. You need to listen to her.”

“There’s something about her that’s… not quite right.” I was careful with my choice of words.

“How so?”

“She’s hiding something,” I said while images of her face continually pushed into the forefront of my mind. “Something she wants no one to discover.”

“What else?”

I wasn’t certain what my father was getting at. I blew out hot air, puffing up my cheeks as I did. “There’s a weird kinetic connection I feel around her. Like nothing I’ve felt before.”

“Really?”

Was Pops smiling?

“Yeah. I don’t know. We spar. I act like an asshole. She gives it right back to me. My blood boils and we do it all over again. She reminds me a little bit of the stories you told me about Mom.”

He gripped my arm, squeezing. “Like I said. Women are special. Look, I’ll talk to the coach, but my advice has nothing to do with the hot new woman in town.”

“Why do I have a feeling I should be sitting down?”

“You need to shift.”

I was so surprised by his recommendation I could sense I was doing nothing but gawking at him. “What?”

“You heard me. You haven’t shifted since the incident.” His expression turned completely fatherly.

Which caused me to look toward the forest. Of course my father meant well, but bringing up the most painful period of my life had nothing to do with the fucking nightmares of ripping apart small animals. “I’ve shifted since then. Several times.”

You couldn’t put one over on my father. He had the memory of an elephant. “I’m not criticizing you, Ford. You’ve had your reasons to shove aside your heritage. However, refusing to acknowledge your wolf had led you to experiencing some cracks in your perfectly shutdown world.”

There was no sense in arguing about whether I was closed off to the rest of the world or not. “You really think doing so will help.”

“I think embracing your wolf is a necessity, son. He’s not going away. He needs his time and you need his experiences and his strength.”

“You make it sound like I’m sick.”

I’d be damned if he didn’t want to skip answering. “You’re not sick, Ford. You’re a wolf. No amount of wishing can alter that. As an added benefit, doing so might help heal your injury at a faster rate as typically would occur. Now, come on. Let’s get inside before we face your mother’s wrath. Just give what I told you some thought.”

“Alright. I will.” Embracing my wolf. Maybe I did blame him. If he hadn’t wanted to show off, then maybe…

Then maybe she’d still be alive.

* * *

I stood behind the closed French doors, staring at the luminous full moon in the sky. With every month’s cycle, I always took a few seconds to laugh. There was still a massive percentage of humans who believed shifters only transitioned in the light of the full moon and that when they did, they were hungry for human flesh.

When I was a kid, my parents had tried to hide me and my siblings from ridiculous werewolf propaganda. They’d wanted to protect us. However, we were forced to face the truth of what we were. And given kids would be kids, after that, we watched every ridiculous werewolf movie we could get our hands on. We’d even compared our personal attributes to those of the fictional characters.

The only aspect the movie studios had gotten right was about our boosted physical attributes. We were also taught that we couldn’t openly display our incredible speed or tremendous strength if there was a chance that humans were around. That’s why packs had tended to stay together. For safety, security, and so we could be ourselves. Even as we integrated more and more into human communities.

Maybe my father had a point about the reason I wasn’t healing. While wolves sustained injuries and even endured illnesses much like humans, we typically healed at three times the rate. My injury had remained in limbo.

I lifted the glass of whiskey, not bothering to pay attention to what I was doing. Maybe Pops was right and the nightmares were my wolf’s way of finding his own peace. The sip of bourbon had no flavor, none. I stared at the liquid, mulling over the thought. There was a distinct reason why I’d avoided shifting for twelve years and Pops knew that. Granted, more time had slipped by than I’d given thought to. The pain from what had occurred held a permanent location in my heart.

Where I’d locked it away, refusing to deal with the agony or the realization the events of the night had permanently altered my life.