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“In a city?” His jaw dropped. “Where do you run? I can’t imagine Central Park is good for werewolves.”
“It’s really not.” I laughed. “I’ve only been changing on the full moon, so I’ve been borrowing my friend’s car to drive out to the woods where it’s safe.”
His head snapped around to look at me. “That’s not healthy, Snow. A wolf needs to run, be free. You can’t limit it to one night a month. You’ll drive yourself crazy, or make yourself sick, or something.”
I smiled. “You sound like Annie. She used to warn me about that too.”
“Why do you limit yourself?” He asked, turning to face me again, drinking more from his cup.
“Being a wolf hasn’t exactly been a good thing for me. Being a wolf got my father killed,” I said. “And now Annie’s gone too.”
“You and I should go running. Not like we did the other night, but for a real run,” he said.
“I don’t know if that’s a good idea,” I said, looking back to the waves. Their distant ebb and flow felt reassuring, steady, and relaxing.
“Wow, the Evie I remember wasn’t afraid of anything.” He challenged, calling my attention back to the moment at hand. “When did that change?”
I glared at him. “I’m not afraid. I just don’t think it’s a good—You know what, no.” I stood up and downed the rest of my cup in one large gulp. “This right here. This was a bad idea. I have to go. I have to prepare for my meeting with Gregor tomorrow. So, if you’ll excuse me”
Jamie’s mouth clamped shut, and his jaw twitched. I walked passed, expecting him to follow or do something to stop me, but he didn’t move. He just sat there, and I marched away, seething with anger.
I wasn’t afraid of him, or of running with him. I wasn’t afraid of anything. I just…my head and my heart were telling me two different things. I’d gotten my feet back under me for two minutes, I’d processed my grief for two minutes, and all because of Jamie-fucking-Hart, the world had gone topsy turvy again.
