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“Yes...” I say slowly. “Should I not have?”
“No no, I mean yes you should have... can. If you want to,” he says with a small smile while rubbing the back of his neck. I think it’s a nervous habit, but what does he have to be nervous about?
“Okay well, I was just making some sweet tea. The kitchen’s through here.” He follows me through the hall and living room, his eyes sparkle as he takes in my home like he likes what he sees.
While he’s busy looking around, I take a few moments to really look at him. He’s tall, maybe six feet, lean with full shoulders. His navy blue tee is tight enough that his biceps strain the sleeves. I can tell his chest and stomach are firm with muscle. His eyes match the dark blue of his shirt. But the most notable feature has to be his white-blond hair that falls like fine silk to just above his shoulders. He’s quite handsome.Not ours,says my wolf with a sneer.
“Can I get you anything to drink? I have soda, milk, water, or the sweet tea?”
His eyes lift to me from the counter where I’ve laid the food out, and he says, “YUM!” It’s said so lowly while looking right into my eyes that I can’t help but think he’s not only talking about the food. My cheeks heat with a blush so red my ears might smoke. I quickly turn to the fridge hoping he didn’t see my reaction. “Sweet tea is good.” He chuckles letting me know he has seen and finds it funny.
He makes two sandwiches so large I’m not sure how he plans on biting into them. After I make a small salad, he finishes the rest right from the bowl I prepared it in. He’s done by the time I start my sandwich. “Mmm so good, I think I ate too much, but you can invite me over anytime, Sophia,” he says while rubbing his hand over his flat stomach and smiling. If I ate like that, my butt wouldn’t fit through the door.
“I guess you don’t want any cake then, huh?” I pick up our plates and take them to the sink.
“Hey, I didn’t say that; let’s not be hasty. There’s always room for dessert.” He’s smiling so big I can see all his teeth. “How about you ask me some of those questions, yeah? Then we’ll have cake.”
Now or never, I guess. “Errr, okay, so umm, how does it all work? Are there packs all over? What are the rules? What happens if you don’t have a pack, do you have to leave? Will they let me leave?” My tone gets higher as I speak and at the end of my word vomit, I'm almost breathless.
“Whoa, whoa, slow down Sophia,” he says while grabbing my hand from the table and brushing his thick thumb across my knuckles. It’s... nice. I haven’t been touched with kindness since my parents passed. “It’ll be fine, I promise. Where did you get these ideas? Packs are there to help you not hurt you or rule over you like tyrants. I’m not sure what you mean by how does it all work, but I’ll answer the other questions and go from there, yeah?”
I just nod my head while he continues to look at me like I’m about to run from the room. To be honest, I kind of want to. The only thing keeping me grounded is his hand over mine, still rubbing in soothing circles.
He starts again. “There are packs all over. Some are small, some aren’t. We are divided into territories. Some territories have several small packs, some have one large pack. We” —he gestures to himself— “are one of the largest packs in North America.”
My eyes widen with this information. How do I not know this? Why weren’t my parents in a pack? I never felt like we were hiding. My parents talked to me about being a shifter. I don’t understand. My thoughts cloud as he continues.
“As far as rules go, all packs are different, but one rule we all share is keeping our identity a secret from humans. There’s always an exception, but as a whole, they’re too volatile. It could cause panic.” He’s watching my every reaction. “The rest is easy. I already told my brother you’d be by in a couple days. No one will make you leave, but more importantly, no one will make you stay if you don’t want to.”
I can’t detect any deception from him. Is it really that easy? Why was I led to believe otherwise? My God, all those years I could have been safe, cared for? I shake my head to dislodge the useless thoughts. There must have been a reason for my parents to tell me that I needed to wait until I was much older before living in a pack. That I would be used or enslaved. But what is it?
Sniffer’s face softens. “Do you have any other questions? Can I ask you a few?”
I had to know this was coming. “I’ll try. There are things I am not ready to talk about, but I will try,” I answer.
“When did you lose your parents?” he whispers.
“I was fourteen.” I’m proud my voice doesn’t crack.
“What! Where have you been all this time?”
I pull my hand from beneath his and say, “Foster care.” It comes flatly. My guard is up, he’ll get no more about that from me.
He jumps from his seat and starts pacing. “With humans? Your first shift, you were alone?”
“Yes,” I answer simply.
“How is that even possible?”
With a shrug of my shoulders, I reply, “I knew my first shift was coming. I tried to prepare as best I could. I just did it. I didn’t have any other options.”
I’m pulled from my chair and folded into his arms with his hand on the back of my head holding me to his chest. A soft noise comes from his throat—I can only describe as a whine—before he says, “You sweet girl, poor sweet girl.” His chin rubs the top of my head, and I soak in the embrace, taking a few moments of comfort.
Too quickly, I’m leaning back and saying, “Hey Sniffer, enough with the heavy. Let’s go eat cake.”
His nose scrunches in distaste at the name I’ve given him, but he smiles and tuts. “What? You’re my first friend. Nicknames are cool. Right?” Just like that, his playful demeanor is back, and we’re both pretending. Me that I’m okay and him that he believes it.
I grab us each a glass of milk and give him a piece of cake that takes up the whole plate. Holding my much smaller piece, I say, “Ya want to watch some TV?”
