Page 8 of Jacob Michaels Is Not Jacob Michaels

“I invited him over last night, Oma.” I interjected.

“I can only imagine why.” She shook her head. “Well, when y’all get done playin’ grab ass out there, come in and I’ll get us some breakfast started.”

“We’re going to go on a walk first, Oma!” I hollered back.

“Freeze your asses off if ya’ want!” Came her reply. “Breakfast will be waiting!”

Then she disappeared into the house once again, the door swinging shut behind her. Lucas let out a sigh at my side that seemed to come from the very soles of his feet.

“A walk?”

“Yeah.” I nodded, not looking at him.

“You don’t want to go inside?”

“Not right now.”

Lucas had no response for that, but, instead, held my hand as I pulled him towards the woods. Together, watching everything in the periphery as we walked, Lucas and I walked side by side through the woods towards Lake Erie. Silence was the music of our march, though it was not uncomfortable, as we made our way through the skeletal woods. Spring was coming, but in the meantime, the woods were stuck in that fitful sleep between death and life. Lucas’ fingers squeezed mine as we walked hand-in-hand through the woods, stealing glances at each other, both of us wondering what was on the other’s mind. Why did I suddenly feel the way I did about Lucas…and why was he so cautious in speaking about it?

The woods that created a barrier between Oma’s house and Lake Erie were not incredibly dense, yet they were thick enough that we had to be careful on our journey. All of the trees were clear of snow and ice, yet there were still patches of snow scattered throughout the woods where the sun had not quite reached. Spring would fully announce its presence soon, and any trace of winter would be gone within days, but winter was still clinging to the woods with bony fingers, refusing to give up until forced. When we broke through the woods, the shore of the lake was before us; I felt relaxed and free. My body didn’t feel electric; every hair on my body didn’t feel like a live wire, I could breathe. I gave a wide smile as I looked out at Lake Erie’s—surely freezing—crystal clear waters and breathed deeply, squeezing Lucas’ hand in mine.

When I turned to look at him, he was smiling back, but I could also see the concern in his eyes.

“What is it?”

“I’m worried.” He said. “For you.”

“I’m not crazy, Lucas.” I let go of his hand.

He quickly grabbed my hand again, his fingers lacing through mine again, frowning at my yanking my hand away from him.

“That is not what I meant. I’m worried for you because of the wolves.” He explained. “Andrew was one thing—I mean shit happens, right?”

“To say the absolute least.”

“But to have three wolves—werewolves or not—wander up and try to attack you in the middle of the night…I mean, if they were werewolves, what if…”

I waited, but Lucas simply trailed off and did not finish his thought.

“Maybe Andrew and some of his buddies came to exact their revenge?” I prodded him.

“I mean, maybe?”

“I don’t know.”

“Could you tell if one of them was Andrew?”

“They were wolves.” I reminded him. “How would I know?”

“Not all werewolves look the same.” He said. “Just like regular wolves.”

“Well, I’m on a learning curve here.” I snorted.

Lucas smiled sheepishly at me.

“Do you remember what Andrew looked like in wolf form?” He asked softly, as though he didn’t want to keep asking about Andrew.

The reasons for that were obvious.