Page 36 of Crave

My phone chimed again just as I was pulling into my mom’s driveway.

Thor: Our proof of life. (One of us wore herself out playing with the laser pointer.)

Attached was an image of Godiva asleep on a familiar chest, her paws curled beneath her, nestled in Dallas’s favorite Cowboys shirt. Shutting off the ignition, I let my head rest against the steering wheel.

What was I doing? How much longer could Dallas and I keep pretending this, whatever it was, didn’t have an end date? What kind of future was there for a relationship that would always have to be kept a secret? The answer had been there from the start. I just hadn’t wanted to face it. Because as much as I wanted there to be an us, no way was I putting my mom at risk. Not again. Not after everything I’d already done.

* * *

A thin line of clouds blanketed the sky close to dusk when I pulled into the circle outside the sprawling Caldwell pack house in the Blair’s catering van. The two-story ranch house was built of white limestone with flagstone patios and wraparound porches overlooking miles of Hill Country farmland. This late in the year, the fields were fallow for the winter, a few rows of peach trees stretching their stark, naked limbs up towards the cold November sky. Little potted Christmas trees with sparkling red and gold balls stood at either side of the front door. A fragrant evergreen wreath tied with a fat red velvet bow hung over the brass knocker. Twinkling icicle lights hung from the eaves. No doubt Brody hadn’t been able to wait another second to start decorating.

“We were about to send out a search party.” In a vintage black A-line dress printed with tiny white daisies, a leather choker and platform heels, Hayden Crowe came nearly to my five foot nine.

“Hoping my invitation would get lost in the mail?”

“And risk not getting my cake?”

Movement over her shoulder caught my eye. Topher Greer hovered in the shadows behind one of the tall limestone columns flanking the door, a battered paperback shoved under one arm, looking like he might incinerate the first scented pinecone or jingle bell that crossed his path. As I watched, he jerked like he’d been electrocuted, gaze shifting north. But it was his eyes that sent a chill creeping up my spine—fixed on the horizon, and yet somehow utterly vacant.

“Is he—"

Hayden examined her nails, which were painted a dark raspberry. “It’s whatever. He came by Dark twice this week. Hung out.”

“Is that safe?”

Rolling her eyes, she grabbed a box of bread and followed me into the house. “He didn’t bite anyone, if that’s what you’re asking. West was off from classes. He stayed with him the entire time.”

“How’s that working out?”

“Who can tell? If you ask me, their whole dynamic is really freaky. I’ve never seen two people more in need of a good hate-fuck.”

“Pretty sure West is too much of a boy scout to go there.”

“You think? Doesn’t mean that isn’t their problem, though.” She peered into the cake box. “So am I allowed to see it before the ceremony?”

“Isn’t that bad luck?”

“Like I haven’t already been bitten and turned into a werewolf?”

The Caldwell kitchen was bright and airy with a large center island. A window over the sink looked out onto the patio and herb garden. I loved everything about this kitchen, from its walk-in pantry to the state-of-the-art appliances, to the brightly colored hand-painted Mexican accent tiles set into the backsplash. I lifted the cake onto the rolling stand and began making final adjustments. Which of course was when Hayden crowded in like she had no idea the zoom function on her phone was even a thing.

“Are those supposed to be music notes?”

Because after everything, she was seriously throwing shade at my icing technique? Which was perfect, btw. I growled, so ready to tell her to back off. But then she bit her lip. I darted a glance over just in time to see hard-core punk rocker Hayden Crowe of the coal-lined eyes and ragey lyrics, the same girl who’d made my life hell for the past two months, look away like she was trying not to cry.

And… crap.

I thought of Ethan, who would be surrounded by all his brothers at the ceremony. Hayden’s sister, Ellie, had chosen to have her memories erased rather than be turned into a werewolf after the Council had discovered she’d figured out the truth about shifters. Ethan, despite how much he might empathize, would never understand what it was like to have to lie to your human family day after day, weeks becoming months becoming years, lies told for their protection and yours forming fault lines until they eroded away even the strongest bonds. Until there was nothing left.

And suddenly I wished I could have taken it all back. I wished that Hayden Crowe and I could have met differently, after one of Daisy Addiction’s killer shows down in Austin or when she’d come in to buy cupcakes, her introduction into our world and to me defined by anything other than fighting over a guy.

And… screw that. If there was one thing the past ten years had taught me, it was that a mistake didn’t have to define the rest of your life. Every day was a choice, and today, I was making a different one.

“Ethan said you love dark chocolate, so that’s what I went with for the cake layers. I made the filling from crushed Thin Mints and buttercream. Lots of people want delicate and lace for a mating cake, but I thought the dark motif was more your style. The flowers and pearls are all sugar, so they’re edible. The guitar and coffee mug on top are fondant, which not everyone likes, but—”

“I can’t believe you made this for me.” Hayden examined the explosion of pale cream roses interspersed with dark blue daisies and violets that swirled up the three tiers of the cake. “It’s totally sick.”

“Thanks. And if you say that about my masterpiece in one of your blog posts and tag us on social media, I will egg Dark before your next open mic night.”