25. Ava

Worst case scenario as a woman?Definitely getting your period unexpectedly in the most inconvenient moments. Imagine, if you will, standing on a beach, sun-kissed and carefree, in a pristine white bikini, only to have the tide within betray you.

Waking up felt like I was slapped by a cloud of doom, and a trip to the bathroom confirmed my suspicions—the crimson wave had hit.

Yup, I got my period. That explains the emotional whirlwind. Great timing, universe, really. Top-notch.

I am cranky and starving, and my moods are swinging like a pendulum on steroids. No amount of willpower will tame my temper today. I am teetering on the edge of either committing homicide or bursting into tears over a broken pen.

In shifter lore, periods are as mythical as a calm family dinner. Heats are the norm, without any of the monthly earthquakes humans endure. Relying on Eloise for a crash course in shifter biology was my first mistake, since her understanding of human physiology is as reliable as a chocolate teapot.

So here I am, stuck in the bathroom, tampon-less and clueless.

The knock on the door feels like the opening scene of a horror movie. "Ava?" Tyler's voice comes through worriedly. "You okay?"

"Nope," I reply. Trying to explain human period dramas to a shifter is like explaining Wi-Fi to a caveman. In all the chaos of the past few days, I somehow ended up without my own clothes. Now, I'm missing my cozy sweats, my own undies, and any of my stuff. Oh, and the guilt about not checking on Bean hits me. I'm officially the worst pet parent ever.

"Ava, can you open the door?" Tyler tries again, his voice edged with concern. Great, now my period saga is about to become the latest clan gossip.

Amidst the embarrassment, a thought strikes me. Maybe Tyler and his crew could be the unlikely support squad I need right now, or maybe I'm just a hopeful human, trying to navigate the weirdness of living with shifters and finding some kind of connection in the most awkward situations.

"Ava, please, talk to me. What's wrong?" There's a softness in Tyler's voice now, a genuine worry that somehow makes the space between us feel less vast.

Taking a deep breath, I cobble together a makeshift pad, pull up my borrowed pants, and wash my hands. Then, with a mix of dread and determination, I shuffle to the door. Time to face the music…or whatever tune Tyler plays.

Embrace the unexpected, Ava, I tell myself. Find humor in the uncomfortable, and learn that sometimes, the most mortifying moments can lead to the deepest connections.

Leaning against the bathroom door, I exhale deeply, finding a bizarre sense of comfort in the moment. It's oddly reminiscent of discovering an untouched fry at the bottom of a take-out bag. "It's just… I got my period, Tyler, and I'm stuck here without any essentials," I confess, my voice a cocktail of liberation and embarrassment.

There's a beat of silence from Tyler's side, long enough for me to imagine him doing mental gymnastics as he tries to figure this out. "Oh, is that all?" he finally says, his tone surprisingly chill, like he's talking about the weather and not my menstrual mishap. "Butterfly, that's nothing to stress over. It's just nature doing its thing."

I can't help but snort at that, rolling my eyes so hard, I'm worried they might stick that way. "Easy for you to say. You're not the one dealing with the red tide in someone else's home. Plus, I'm all tangled up in your clothes, in your space. Awkward is an understatement, and FYI, shifters don't have to juggle this circus."

"Listen, Ava…" Tyler's voice is all warmth and no-nonsense. "This might feel like you're walking a tightrope, but trust me, it's no biggie on our end. We've got this. Let me help."

"You're not going to make this weird, right?" I ask, disbelief sneaking into my voice.

"I promise," he answers with a soft laugh. "Cross my heart. Now, how about we ditch this standoff? I swear it's not weird."

Taking a deep breath, I unlock the door and inch it open. Tyler greets me with a reassuring smile, his presence a ray of sunshine piercing through my embarrassment. He's managed to ensure this little crisis remains our secret.

"Look at us, chatting about weird shit," he says softly, stepping back to give me room.

As I emerge, a weird mixture of relief and leftover embarrassment tags along. "Thanks, Tyler. I'm just… I feel like I'm out of my element."

His gaze softens, filled with understanding and an unspoken promise of support. "Showing your soft side doesn't make you any less badass, Ava. So what's the plan? You need stuff, like maybe some familiar clothes?"

A semblance of normalcy begins to thread through my panic. "Yeah, supplies would be great, and my own clothes… I miss them."

"Supplies are easy," Tyler says, confidence lacing his words. "And for your clothes, we can head over to your place or send Eloise—your choice."

Suddenly, the idea of returning to my own space feels like a breath of fresh air. "Let's hit my place. A dose of normalcy sounds perfect," I admit, the thought of my own space, my own stuff, offering a sliver of comfort. "And there's dinner with my dad later. I can't skip that."

"Done." Tyler answers faster than I thought he would. "And just so we're on the same page, Ava, you're not in this alone. Whatever you need, we're here for you."

His words seep into my very core and wrap around me like a comforting blanket. "All right," I respond, leaning into him for support, my balance only betraying me slightly.

He reaches beside the wall, retrieving my crutches with a gentle nod, his actions speaking volumes of his care. "Let's get out of here, all right?" His soft voice is loaded with a kind of empathy I always dreamed of. Gratitude washes over me, tinged with a smidge of reluctance.

"I mean, it's not that I don't want to be here," I admit out loud, my voice a soft whisper against the quiet hallway, "but putting on a brave face in front of everyone is just…overwhelming."

I need my own things.

Tyler just gets it. He doesn't even blink, he just gives me a dazzling smile that's all him. "I get it—it can feel overwhelming. Wolves aren't known for their personal space."

That's putting it mildly. The guys seem to find any excuse to be close, their touch a constant presence, and it isn't just them—it's a clan thing.

Relying on the crutches, I try to mask my inner tremble with outward stability. "Brody?"

"Him and Ethan are getting ready for you to visit your father," Tyler tells me, his stride matching mine as we navigate the halls. "He's hashing out the recent chaos with the alpha." A flicker of concern crosses his face, hinting at the tension rippling through the pack, but he quickly masks it with a partial smile.

Bathed in the soft glow of early morning light, the clan house sits in silence. The place usually buzzes with life this time of day, but now, it grants us a moment of solitude.

As we're about to exit, Natalie rounds the corner, her impeccable timing almost too perfect. She strides toward us, her confidence teetering on the edge of arrogance. "Leaving so soon, Ava?" Her voice drips with a sweetness that fails to mask the chill in her gaze.

I tighten my hold on the crutches, steadying myself against the unease she stirs. "Just stepping out for a bit," I reply, my voice steady, despite the undercurrent of tension Natalie causes. Something about her feels off, like a dark cloud trying to obscure the sun.

Her eyes dart between Tyler and me, a smirk briefly distorting her features. "Well, be careful. We wouldn't want anything to happen to you," she purrs, her words laced with something dark and warped. It's like she's trying to sound concerned, but we all know she's enjoying this little game of hers.

As I try to move past her, Natalie decides to play dirty, stepping closer. My crutch snags on her foot, throwing me off balance. Tyler's quick to catch me, his arm a steady support, but he's not fast enough to stop the jolt of pain through my leg or the flash of anger that lights me up.

"Watch it, Natalie!" Tyler's warning slices through the tension, his protective instinct flaring. "Or I'll have the alpha ban you from the clan house."

Natalie backs off with a feigned innocence, her mock apology laced with venom. "Oh, clumsy me. It seems I'm not the only one," she taunts, her malice barely veiled.

Tyler steadies me, his concern palpable. "Enough, Natalie. We're not here for your games," he counters firmly, cutting through her charade.

With a disgruntled huff, Natalie retreats, her departure leaving a tense silence in her wake.

Once she's gone, Tyler's gaze softens. "You okay, Ava?"

I nod, pushing past my frustration. "I'm fine, just ready to get home," I reply, desperate to put distance between us and the negativity.

We step outside, and the crisp morning air washes over us, a refreshing contrast to the stifling atmosphere we left behind. Our walk to the car is a quiet reflection of the internal and external battles we face.

As we reach the car, Tyler opens the passenger door with a flourish. "Your chariot awaits, my lady."

A laugh escapes me as I maneuver into the seat, a wave of relief washing over me as I sink into its embrace. Between playing nurse to Brody, not getting any sleep, and the cherry on top—my period—I'm a walking disaster. Here's hoping I don't wreck his car seats too, because that's all I need.

"I hope the day gets better from here," I murmur, tossing a prayer into the universe as I lean back. Tyler cranks up the heat as soon as he hops in and starts the car, throwing me a glance that's both a check-in and a promise that he has this…whatever this turns out to be.

When I arrived, there was a flurry of activity. I can see why the clan loves it here. I know we are only a twenty-minute drive from town, and yet they have the freedom of the forest close by. It's the best of both worlds.

The area around the clan house isn't your typical backyard either. It's more of a forest that decided to share its space with some spiritkin. The pines here are ancient, towering like nature's own skyscrapers, and the clan built their lives around them, not over them. It's like stepping into a village frozen in time, where the modern world brushes against the old ways.

Kids zip around, lost in their games, their laughter like music in the brisk morning air, while the older folks enjoy a moment of peace on their porches, coffee in hand. They all wave as we drive by, a picture of community warmth that somehow still reminds me that I'm on the outside looking in. Maybe it's because I'm human, or maybe it's just me feeling like a square peg in a round hole.

Then there's the fact that it's mostly guys around here. Nature has a funny way of balancing things out, I guess.

Tyler breaks into my thoughts with, "We have the next week off." His tone's easy, but there's an undercurrent of something more. "To keep an eye on Brody and to just…be with you."

I chew on my inner cheek, mulling over his words. The idea of spending more time with them sparks something warm in my chest, but then reality barges in, and I'm back to juggling my worries about tonight. Elijah's the name that turns my stomach into knots, representing a problem I can't just wish away.

"I want to talk to you about tonight," Tyler says, reaching for my hand. It's a simple gesture, but it feels like he's offering more than just comfort. When his fingers find mine, it's like a silent vow resting on my thigh.

"We don't want you going alone," he insists, his voice carrying a weight it usually doesn't. "I don't think it's safe to leave you with Elijah."

Part of me wants to snap back and remind him that I'm not some damsel, but then the memories of the other night flood in—the sound of danger, fear, and chaos—and suddenly, I'm not so sure he's wrong.

The other night is still fresh in my head, and I won't admit to it, but waking Brody every two hours was easy because I woke every two hours. Flashes of the night continually played out in my nightmares.

I swallow past the lump in my throat. I don't think my dad had anything to do with what happened, but Elijah? He's an unknown entity, a shadow lurking in the corners of my mind. I've never met the man, and honestly, I'd prefer to keep it that way.

The most pressing question swirls in my head. Can I trust my father if anything happens? The lack of an answer scares me more than I want to admit.

"You can't come to the estate with me," I say, blowing out a shaky breath. "My dad would immediately know you're a shifter." I'm not confident my dad wouldn't react…violently, and Tyler just looks like spiritkin.

"I'm not letting you walk into potential danger alone," Tyler rumbles, his protective instincts flaring.

"That isn't your call," I point out, feeling the tension crackling between us.

"It is, Ava, or have you forgotten you're our mate?" His retort is sharp, laden with the weight of our accidental bond.

Once again, I bite back the sharp response bubbling up inside me as Tyler maneuvers onto my street, seemingly without needing directions. Perhaps they did a background check on me. It wouldn't surprise me, but the thought doesn't bother me much. If I needed to dig into their backgrounds, I'm sure Mia could handle it in a heartbeat. Actually, that's not a bad idea.

"Not yet, I'm not," I remind him firmly.

"You are our mate," Tyler insists, his gaze intense as he looks at me, assessing my reaction. "We just aren't bonded."

"What's my favorite color?" I challenge as he pulls up outside my modest apartment. It's a simple first-floor townhouse downtown, conveniently close to my clinic, given my lack of a car or driver's license.

"Pink," he replies without missing a beat.

My neck nearly snaps as I turn to him, my mouth agape in astonishment. He parks the car and turns to me with a smug smile playing on his lips.

"H-How?" I stutter.

"I pay attention, Ava," he says softly. "Sometimes, everyone thinks I'm just a goofball, a whimsical playboy, but I pay attention." There's a vulnerability in his words that tugs at my heartstrings. "Go ahead, ask me another question about you."

"What's my favorite food?" I challenge.

"If I were a betting man, I'd say tacos or empanadas," he wagers, wagging a finger knowingly. "Your mom's recipe."

My jaw practically hits the floor.

"I'm right, aren't I?" he asks, his smirk oozing with confidence.

"Am I a cat or a dog person?" I retort.

He gives me a look of pure cynicism. "Dog."

"How the hell?" I shake my head in disbelief, torn between continuing the interrogation and heading inside.

"Let's get you in," he suggests, reading my mind. "You can keep asking questions on the way."

"Oh, I plan to," I reply, opening the car door and wobbling as I find my footing. At least there are no steps to contend with.

Tyler rushes around to my side, opening the door and offering me a steadying hand. I'm grateful he doesn't go all caveman and sling me over his shoulder. We're taking baby steps.

His palm is warm and calloused as he grips my hand, leading me to my door. Somehow, he even has my key.

I don't even remember where I left it. Shame burns my cheeks, knowing he's been learning all about me through observation and I didn't pay enough attention to him.

He unlocks the outside door and guides me into the stairwell. The landlord converted this row of townhouses into little apartments with her husband years ago. Now it's just her, and she's the sweetest little woman.

As we step inside, a staircase leads upstairs, or we can go left, where my apartment is. Tyler unlocks that door, and a breath I didn't realize I was holding explodes out of me. I half expected someone to break into my apartment.

Like my dad.

"What's my favorite ice cream?" I ask.

Tyler chuckles as he steps into the apartment first, his eyes scanning everything. "You'll have to ask Ethan that question," he teases.

"Why?" I hobble into my apartment and slam the door shut with my crutch.

Tyler places his hands in his pockets, taking in my home.

I wonder what he thinks of it. It's small, nothing much. I look around, trying to see what he sees. The apartment is long and narrow. On my left is a bay window that overlooks the street outside. I have about a dozen plants scattered in the windowsill, and in front of it are two reading chairs—some of the only furniture aside from the table and my grandfather's desk.

He used to build these desks. He was an incredible carpenter and loved crafting hidden drawers. I even found a hidden compartment in my desk only last month.

To the right is a kitchenette tucked in a corner, and directly in front of it, against the far wall, is a small table and chairs. A hallway leads into my bedroom, the door shut.

Tyler tosses my keys on the foyer table to the right of the front door, his eyes still roaming. "I like it." He smiles at me. "It feels like you." He holds my gaze as he tries to convey something I'm just not grasping in that moment. It's intense and causes heat to unfurl in my belly.

"Thanks." I feel a blush forming, so I clear my throat and gesture down the hall. I need to get ready for tonight, and I need them to let me go. "Tyler?—"

"Hey, it's okay," he cuts me off. "What if we are on standby?"

I heave out a breath. Having them on standby means I won't be completely alone. If anything goes wrong, then they will be there for me. "I can't tell you how much I needed your trust."

His laugh is playful yet edged with something deeper. His eyes darken as he stalks toward me, and I take a step back, my backside hitting the cool wood.

My head falls back to gaze up at him, my breathing becoming shallow as he hovers over me, his forearms resting on the wood above my head. "Make no mistake, I don't want you going." He dips his head, surprising me as his lips linger precariously close to mine. "Brody doesn't want you going." The heat of his breath gusts over my lips. "Ethan doesn't want you going."

I swallow thickly.

"Butterfly, if it were up to me, I'd toss you over my shoulder, take you back to the house, and tie you to the bed." His lips touch mine so lightly, it's almost fleeting, and a whimper slips from my lips. "There, we'd take turns making you scream with so much pleasure, you'd forget all about that pesky little dinner."

"I have my period," I blurt out, because that's the part I get hung up on, not that he wants to tie me to the bed. I don't know when Tyler's thoughts shifted, but I can't decide if I'm mad about them or not.

His lips graze over mine and to my ear, where he whispers, "A little blood will never scare a wolf." He presses his body to mine, making me moan. "Go shower. We wouldn't want you to be late for your date, now would we?" He steps away, leaving me cold.

Yeah, I need to shower, but not before I text Mia and ask her for a background check on these three.