Page 13 of Red

“So, I notice you don’t eat much.” Stark wanders into the kitchen, opening the fridge.

I did have more fruit today. I’ve lost some muscle in the last few days, but I’m not worried about it.

“Well, being held captive doesn’t create much of an appetite.” Plus, losing the only person you had left on earth you could trust.

“If I could make it, what would you eat?”

“No clue.”

“Give me something.”

I drink the glass of water he placed on the counter for me. “Steak probably.”

He opens up the freezer and peeks around. “We’re going to town.”

“Really? I would love to get out of here.” A smile crosses my face.

“You go to town?”

My smile vanishes at the shock in his voice. “What? You thought I never left my house?”

His silence is the answer I expect. Most people thought I was some weird hermit girl, afraid of the outside world, because I’m not just like them.

“I used to go. It’s not like Pratt always did the shopping for the house.” Things changed when he got more afraid for me.

“You went alone?”

“Yes.”

A flash of something crosses his face then disappears back to the calm, straight face he wears often. “Pratt had different views. That’s not happening. It’s not safe.”

“How? Are humans that stupid to venture into our town?” I can deal with the comments of other pack members; he saw it just the other day.

“It’s not the humans.” He runs his hand through his hair, down to his neck. “Out of respect for your brother, they stayed away from you, but now some who don’t know you think you should . . .” He hesitates. Does he think I’m ashamed of not being able to turn into a werewolf?

“Got it. They won’t hurt me.” I head toward the front door. My attempt for a change of scenery failed this morning, but this will do.

“Alo, they will.”

“What did you just call me?” The grief of Pratt being gone floods back.

I leave the house and take a breath of the cold air. A second later the door slams behind me.

“Get in the truck.”

Stark passes me on the small deck and heads to the passenger side of his truck. Opening the door, he gestures for me to come forward. A trip to town would be nice, but I’m not talking to him. He can’t call me Alo—he doesn’t even know me. Keeping my eyes down, I walk over and heave myself into the cab in silence. He gives me less than a second to move my feet before shutting the door.

Stark manages to drive all the way to town without a mention of our earlier conversation. When we reach it, everything looks the same. Though most of us like living in the woods, there are a decent number of houses here where others live for various reasons.

We pull into the grocery store’s parking lot and Stark kills the engine. I climb out and almost skip into the building. Shopping is something normal I used to do like everyone else. The store isn’t ginormous, like those in human cities, but it’s got a butcher and a bakery in it, along with rows of products locally made, some brought in from human cities or other werewolf territories.

I pick up a basket on my way in and Stark keeps close, his frame less than two feet from me every step I make. I head straight to the back of the store, past the vegetable displays, for the butcher. The display case is filled with different meats, including some that were locally hunted.

Pratt would’ve said to stop giving him things to question.

The reminder makes my choice for me. I go with a small steak instead of the huge one in front of me behind the glass. This is the longest I’ve gone without protein. Not that I’ve needed it in the last few days.

Stark orders two dozen more. Guess quiet dinners only lasted for one night.