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“Understandable,” Daisy said.
“I’m afraid that it’ll be some of my mom’s stuff that she left behind at the house,” Eleanor said abruptly. “Dad was always a bit of a packrat and too focused on his work to care about cleaning, so it’s not surprising that he’s just finding some of her stuff now. And while I don’t care that Dad doesn’t give a shit about me, I miss my mom. I miss her a lot, even now, and the thought of getting a box of her stuff after I did the hard part of cleaning out her apartment two years ago… it breaks my heart. Dad won’t know that, or even if he did, he wouldn’t care.”
“If you want me to be there when you open the parcel, I’m happy to do that,” Daisy said.
Eleanor smiled at her. “Thanks, Daisy. I appreciate that, but I think I’ll be okay. As I said, I’ll give it a day or two and then open it.”
“Okay, but if you change your mind, just let me know,” Daisy said.
“I will.” Eleanor smiled at her. I’m happy we’re friends, Daisy.”
“Me too, Eleanor.”
CHAPTER 3
This was ridiculous. He was a damn lion shifter, and being nervous around a human was fucking embarrassing.
Wes paced back and forth in his front hall, peeking out the side window next to the door every couple of minutes like a teenage girl waiting for her prom date. His lion growled at him, and Wes muttered, “I know I’m acting like an idiot.”
He leaned against the wall and made himself take a deep breath, hoping it would calm his jangled nerves somewhat. His lion was worked up, pacing restlessly inside him and every few minutes or so making a loud growl that set Wes’s teeth on edge.
He didn’t know what was worse, the usual silence from his lion or this weird growling thing he’d been doing since the moment – the very fucking moment – Eleanor had left their side last Thursday. Wes had fully planned on begging Grayson for a ride to and from work this week. Being close to Eleanor after what happened between them on Thursday was a terrible idea, but he had texted her and booked her driving services for the week by Monday at noon.
He had to. His lion barely spoke to him anymore, so when he’d demanded this morning that they see Eleanor this week, Wes couldn’t deny him. His lion had always been on the quiet side, just like Wes, but in the last four years, he’d spoken less and less, until sometimes Wes went days without talking to him.
His stomach twisted, and he stared at the picture hanging on the wall in front of him. It was small, only a five by seven framed photo of Wes, Cooper, Grayson, Boone, and, his eyes lingered on the laughing man’s face… Derek, but the photo could have been the size of the wall for the amount of hurt it brought on.
His stomach knotted tight, and his lion made a low and mournful cry before falling silent again. He closed his eyes, the sweat beading up on his forehead and the sick feeling intensifying until he was dangerously close to vomiting up the toast he’d forced down for breakfast.
It wasn’t your fault, he told his lion. Please believe me. It wasn’t your fault. I’m the one to blame.
His lion didn’t reply. He never did when Wes tried to talk to him about the accident.
His lips curled up in a bitter smile. The accident. He could call it an accident. He could pretend that it was nothing more than being in the wrong place at the wrong time, but the truth of the matter was – he’d lost focus, and a man died because of it.
Take down the picture, then. For fuck’s sake… stop torturing yourself.
He couldn’t. Staring every day at the man whose death he caused was a small price to pay for his sins.
Like all lion shifters, his hearing was excellent, and he heard Eleanor’s car as she neared his house. His lion sat up, not quite purring, but close to it. Wes could almost feel his lion’s sorrow dissipating.
Don’t get that excited. She doesn’t even think we’re friends.
His lion snarled at him, and Wes winced. It was true that Eleanor didn’t consider him a friend, but he didn’t need to remind his lion of that.
Or maybe her feelings are hurt because you acted like you never kissed her, you asshole.
Wes wanted to ignore his inner voice, but it made an excellent point. But pretending he’d never kissed Eleanor, pretending he didn’t know how she sounded when she moaned or how fucking good she smelled when she was aroused, was necessary. If he didn’t, he’d be trying to coax her into his bed so he could finish what they’d started in that damn hallway.
This time his lion did purr. He thought mating with the human was a fine idea. He didn’t care that they were old enough to be Eleanor’s father or that a woman in the prime of her life wouldn’t want someone as broken and fucked up as they were.
There’s nothing wrong with us, his lion growled.
He’d be thrilled his lion was talking to him if the beast wasn’t so clearly angry with him.
He stepped outside, locking the door behind him and walking down the sidewalk toward Eleanor’s car idling in front of his house. He slid into his usual spot in the backseat and buckled his seat belt.
Eleanor pulled out onto the street without her regular greeting. After a moment, his lion growling unhappily, Wes said, “Good morning, Eleanor.”
