Page 53 of UNAwere

His voice is gentle, and it rests over my shoulders like a weighted blanket.

I close my eyes against it.

Sybbie…

When I look at him, he’s watching me, golden eyes sad.

You don’t have to do this.

I think about how I’ve spent most of my life worried about Maeve’s wants and needs, completely setting aside my own. And it’s hard to come back from that. To listen to my body, my instincts, and understand the language it’s speaking. I knew everything she needed – safety, a hug after a hard day, a nightlight because she was afraid of the dark. But I’ve grown up ignoring all of my needs. Heck, I’m in this situation because I couldn’t watch my sister go through with it. My life has revolved around her. And as much as I don’t regret it, I’m starting to see how it’s affected me.

I want to, I say.

You’re sure?

My answer is a step towards the window. And then I see her.

A small sob escapes my lips at the sight of her chestnut coat. Her green eyes and small, perked ears. She almost looks like a fox, and I let out an incredulous, hiccuppy laugh. She’s gorgeous. Adorable and soft and serene. And when I turn my head, she mirrors me, her muzzle moving to the side, her whiskers pinching forward.

I’m so sorry, I whisper. For ignoring you.

More tears flow. My vision blurs and the image of her wavers.

Briggs doesn’t say anything. Doesn’t move. Even when I step away from the car and turn my back to collect myself. And I respect him for it, silently thanking him for not intruding.

I take a deep breath and relax into the shed. My wolf form falls off me, like gliding, cool water, and I let out a long moan of relief. I lay against the grass, head bent, and take several breaths before I Turn again. And this time I ask, and she’s there, accepting. And when my back breaks, when my ribs expand, my feet lengthen, it’s a fluid motion. A dance between myself and the wolf I am.

I get up and peek at Briggs over my shoulder.

He’s staring at me, golden eyes intent. I ignore the fizziness I feel in my belly, in response to the way he’s looking at me.

Can I have my cookie now?

We’ve been driving for hours after training when I see a sign for a Mickey’s on the side of the road, telling us it’s only a few kilometres away. My stomach gurgles. It’s getting close to dinner, and all I’ve eaten today is a cookie and a sandwich.

‘I want fries,’ I murmur.

Briggs sighs. ‘We’re not getting fries.’

‘But I’m craving fries.’

‘You can get fries at dinner.’

‘But I want them now.’

‘No.’

I gesture to the sign we pass, telling us the restaurant is only two kilometres away, the little chipmunk mascot grinning at me temptingly. ‘What if we just go through the drive-thru of this Mickey’s?’

‘That would require me having to leave the highway, and it’s not on schedule, and it’s not—’

‘Pre-approved. Yes, right.’ I nod, unable to keep the sarcastic tone from my voice. I’ve always been susceptible to getting hangry. ‘The extremely dangerous Mickey’s on the side of the highway is probably not the safest spot for us.’

Briggs keeps his eyes on the road, but his nostrils flare. ‘You’re not getting fries.’

‘But I’m hungry.’

‘No. Enough is enough.’