Page 7

After I wash and shut off the water, I wrap up in a towel and wipe a streak through the fogged mirror. I look tired. The shadows under my eyes weren’t there a week ago, and I know exactly whose fault they are. I fall asleep thinking about Ezra every night and wake up missing him every morning. My wolf hasn’t stopped pacing since he disappeared. She’s at it again now, back and forth until I’m ready to scream at her.

I dry off and smooth on some lotion. I throw on jeans, a sweater, and my favorite running shoes, the pair with good grip in case Ocran wants to race. My scrubs and textbooks go into my backpack before I head downstairs.

Amos and Arlo glare at each other across the table over plates piled high with pancakes. My mother stands at the stove in an old shirt of my father’s that hangs past her thighs. The next batch is going brown at the edges. She’s trying to flip it in time, but he isn’t making that easy with his arms wrapped around her from behind. He keeps kissing the spot under her ear.

My mother doesn’t pull away from him. “Levi, I’m going to burn these,” she warns.

My father ignores the warning. “Let them burn.”

She tries again. “The boys are hungry.”

“The boys can wait,” he says.

She laughs and swats at him with her spatula, but he only squeezes her tighter. Between my brothers and me, she’s never gotten a moment of peace in this house. My father is the worst of us all. He acts like he’ll wither and die if he can’t keep his hands on her. Watching them gets to me more than it used to, and my wolf knows whose arms she wants around us.

He glances up when I reach the table, his eyes bright. “There she is.” He releases my mother long enough to set a fresh plate down at my usual spot. “Nice of you to stay for breakfast.”

I toss my backpack by the stairs and slide into my chair. My brothers are too busy with their staring contest to tell me good morning. I lean over the steam rising off my stack. “I would never turn down Mom’s pancakes.”

My mother winks at me over her shoulder, but my father tugs her back against him to steal another kiss. Amos gags, and Arlo takes the chance to bean him with a syrupy bite.

I reach for the water pitcher in the center of the table. “Can you two quit making out for five minutes?”

My father doesn’t bother coming up for air. “No,” he says. “We cannot.”

I pour myself a glass before I dig in. My brothers have drowned theirs in syrup, but I’ve never been able to stand the sweetness. The smell off their plates makes me wrinkle my nose. I eat mine dry like my father and all my uncles. Old-fashioned, my mother calls it. I call it having taste.

The pancakes are perfect, fluffy in the middle with crispy edges that crunch between my teeth. Only my mother gets the hint of vanilla right. She taught herself to cook for shifters back when she first came to Wintermoon. I eat fast and chase every forkful with water while the boys get louder and dumber.

Amos jabs his fork at Arlo. “I didn’t shift until after we passed the marker!”

“The marker is the old oak, not the boulder!” Arlo shoots back.

Amos throws his arms wide. “It has always been the boulder, Arlo—you’re literally making things up!”

I clean my plate and push back from the table. “I gotta go. I have clinicals this morning.”

My father finally peels himself off my mother so I can hug them goodbye. She locks her arms around my shoulders and keeps me there longer than usual. I cling to her. Her raspberry scent is still the safest smell in the world. My wolf quits her pacing and goes quiet.

She pulls back and studies me. “Can we meet at the spa this weekend?” she asks. “I miss you, baby.”

I blink against the sting in my eyes. “Yeah, Mom.” I kiss her cheek. “I’ll be there.”

My father is already reaching for her again. That’s my cue to leave. I grab my backpack and walk out onto the porch.

The village is wide awake now. Jonathan and Jasmine are still yelling at each other over by the fire pit. Ocran is waiting for me in the middle of the clearing. He watches me come down the steps with an eyebrow raised. We’ve been best friends since we were pups getting into trouble together. We used to sneak into the forest when we were supposed to be napping and race until we dropped. He’s also the fastest wolf in the pack, faster even than his father, Kane. The rest of us eat his dust.

I stop in front of him and keep my face blank. “Morning,” I say.

“Morning.” He gives me a wicked grin. “Ready to lose?”

“I have absolutely no idea what you’re talking about,” I lie.

“Sure you don’t,” he scoffs.

We stare each other down until I can’t stand it anymore. My wolf is circling and itching to go. I bolt.

I tear across the packed earth for the tree line with my legs already burning and the wind loud in my ears. Behind me, Ocran is cracking up. He thinks it’s hilarious to give me a lead before he smokes my ass.