Chapter 12 - Peter

Even though Lucy told me not to help, I do, anyway. We clean the kitchen without speaking to each other, and I focus on the hard work, trying not to think.

I have to keep my teeth pressed together to stop myself from starting another fight. Even though I am sorry for making a mess in the kitchen, I have spent the whole day trying to help, and so far, Lucy hasn’t even said thank you.

When I’m done with the ovens, I turn to watch Lucy wipe down the benches. It looks like we’re almost done, and the clean-up effort really didn’t take that long.

Maybe she just enjoys antagonizing me.

She leans forward to reach the very top edge of the bench, and her jeans pull tight across her round ass and wide hips. At the same time, the clip falls out of her hair, and the long, curly waves cascade across her shoulders and tumble around her pretty face.

She makes a small sound of annoyance and straightens up, gathering her hair in her hands and pulling it back behind her head. With quick, short movements, she twists it into a knot and fixes it back in place with a clip.

When she reaches up to tie her hair back, her blouse rides up, exposing a strip of pale skin across her belly. The fabric stretches across her breasts, pulling the buttons apart and showing me just a hint of a white bra edged with delicate lace.

Suddenly, she looks up and notices me watching. Her deep blue eyes seem to darken as her mouth twists in a frown.

She’s so fucking cute when she’s angry.

“What are you looking at?” she asks.

“Nothing,” I say, my voice flat. “I was just wondering if you were done fucking around with your beauty routine so we can go.”

A sigh that sounds more like a growl rumbles in her throat. “Yes, we’re finally done. I’ll just get my bag.”

I turn my back before she’s even finished speaking and walk through the back door, going to wait by the car. I can’t stand still, so I pace back and forth, my anxiety rising by the second.

“About time,” I growl as Lucy comes out to the parking lot. “I thought you were in a hurry?”

“I’m too tired, Peter,” she says, her voice dull and defeated. “You can keep fighting with me if you want, but I’m done for the day.”

Her words cut into me as if they’re made of broken glass. My chest aches with pressure, a rising force of tension that feels like it will break my ribs if I don’t scream to let it out.

I clench my fists and get in the car, staring silently out the window as I try to control my emotions. I feel all kinds of bad right now, and a lot of it is from the way Lucy just spoke to me.

She admitted defeat. And it made me feel like a complete prick.

As she drives through the slowly darkening streets, I realize the feeling inside me is mostly regret. And there is some part of me that wants to apologize.

Fuck that! I spent the whole day trying to please this woman, and then all I got for it was a big load of crap piled on me! She should apologize to me!

The pressure in my chest starts to build again, and it begins to feel a lot like panic. I’ve felt like this plenty of times— usually right before I jump headfirst into a fistfight and come out of it battered, bloody, and no wiser than when I went in.

Thankfully, the house comes into view, and I keep my shit together for another few seconds while Lucy parks the car. My door is open before the car has even stopped moving. I turn my head towards the nearby hills, immersing myself in the fresh scent of pine and ice that blows from the peaks.

“I have to run,” I say, my voice tight as I try not to yell.

“Well, I’m getting in the shower. I’m not delaying my relaxation time another second on your account, so don’t expect me to go for a hike just to oblige you.”

“I’ll push against the edges of the spell,” I say through gritted teeth. “I wouldn’t want to inconvenience you any further, my lady.”

She glares at me, and I stare right back. The pressure between us almost ignites as we wait for each other to speak, but then she just turns around and goes inside.

Lucy’s house is at the end of a small cul-de-sac. There are a couple of quiet streets between her backyard and the first mountain trail. I go through the garden, past the big tree and out the gate. It’s dark enough that I won’t be seen, so I shift right away and trot through the streets.

Immediately, I feel a sense of deep anxiety. My wolf doesn’t want to leave her, even for a second. No matter how hard I push towards the nearby trees, my animal won’t let me go further than a few blocks.

I put all my effort into an all-out run towards the forest. I refuse to believe I’m trapped here, with her.

I have to be able to undo this!

My paws slap the concrete, and my muscles tighten as I force myself to keep running. I keep my eyes on the mountaintop, imagining myself flowing through the forest like a savage shadow, a living expression of primal force. With every last scrap of my energy, I embrace my wolf and try to leave my humanity behind.

A terrible howl rips from my throat as my paws skid hard across the gravel, stopping so suddenly the pads rip open and leave trails of blood on the road. I stagger backwards, staring up at the mountain with desperate hope even as my heart tugs me back towards Lucy.

Whimpering softly, I drop my nose to the ground and trot back the way I came until I get to Lucy’s backyard. I stare at the window on the backdoor, a little square of yellow light that looks warm and welcoming.

I don’t want to be in there, warm, safe, and normal. I belong out here, in the shadows, with the vicious creatures and evil things.

Even though I repeat this thought to myself over and over, it won’t stick. My wolf fights against me, wanting to go inside and be part of that warmth and comfort.

I can’t fight this.

Slowly, I go up the stairs and shift right at the back door, touching the doorknob gently. The sound of a child laughing shocks me, and I peer through the window to see Caleb sitting at the kitchen table with Fiona and Rider.

I find my clothes where I left them, in the grass by the gate. Then I go up the steps and knock softly as I come through the door. Everyone looks up at me with a warm smile, but it is Caleb’s expression that blows me away.

“Uncle Pete!” he cries, his eyes lighting up with joy. The boy hurls himself across the room, coming at me like a torpedo and leaping into my arms. His little body wraps around my waist, forcing me to catch him as I stagger against the wall.

“Whoa, little buddy! You almost took me out.”

“I missed you!” he says, grinning up at me. “It’s so wild that you look just like Dad.”

“Yeah. We used to pretend to be each other when we were very little.”

“Wow,” Caleb’s eyes shimmer as he looks at me with awe. “I wish I had a little brother. Can I have a brother, Mom?”

“I’m working on it, son,” Fiona laughs.

“How does that even work?” Caleb asks, and every adult in the room clears their throat and swiftly changes the subject.

Caleb wraps his tiny hand around mine and leads me to the table. While the others talk, he pulls out his action figures and shows them off to me, explaining their features and the cartoons they come from.

“Did you watch cartoons when you were little?” Caleb asks, holding up a transforming mech warrior. “What ones did you like?”

“Oh,” I say. “I didn’t get a chance to watch much TV.”

“Why not?”

Well, kid, I was running for my life most of the time, or trying to stay warm, or find food.

“Oh,” I say again. “I just never really got into any of the shows. I moved house a lot.”

“Dad told me,” he says, sounding solemn. “Like, he said he didn’t really have a home, and that’s why he wanted to make one so badly.”

“But… didn’t he spend most of his life by himself? I thought he didn’t meet you until a short time ago.”

“That’s true,” Caleb says, sounding wise beyond his years. “Dad had a lot of wolf stuff going on over the last few years.” He looks around the table, his eyes darting to Rider, Fiona, and Lucy. They are deep in conversation and not paying much attention to us. “The adults always want to keep stuff from me,” he says. “But I hear things. Over the last few years, scary stuff happened when the wolf packs fought. I know my dad was involved in some of it. But the first time I ever saw him was right before he kicked the bad guy’s butt.”

Caleb pauses to look over at Rider. The little boy’s blond hair glows around his innocent young face like a halo, and his eyes are so much like mine.

If mine had never seen so much murder, pain, and death, maybe then we would look the same.

The way Caleb looks at his father actually causes me pain, and I can’t explain it. It feels like my sternum is being cut open by a buzz saw.

“I knew then that my dad was a good guy. A hero. He had always been a good guy, you know? It’s just that no one ever gave him the chance to be good. When he was finally up against the villain and had to protect me and Mom, that’s when he became the hero.”

Caleb’s eyes are shining with pure, innocent light. I have no doubt that he’s applying principles learned from his cartoons to a real-life situation, but even so, I don’t think he’s wrong.

Before I can think of an answer, Caleb turns those shining eyes back on me and grabs my hand with both of his. “Just like you, Uncle Pete! You’re a good guy, too. All you need is to find the right thing to fight for, and then you’ll be a hero, just like Dad.”

The pain in my chest increases, and to my horror, my eyes burn with unshed tears.

I can’t remember the last time I cried, and I’m not going to start now.

“Thanks, Caleb,” I say, trying not to let my voice crack. “It’s nice of you to believe in me.”

Not all of us are heroes, kid. Some of us are just complete and total fuck-ups and just aren’t worthy of redemption.

Caleb grins and goes back to showing me his toys. The sharp pain in my chest changes from an ache to a deep, gnawing emptiness.

I look over at Lucy, and I see that she’s watching me. Her big, bright blue eyes are full of concern, as if she can sense my distress. I clear my throat, wishing I could make a cutting remark to deflect her attention the way I usually do, but I can’t bring myself to be a jerk in front of Caleb.

I feel as distanced from the family scene as I did when I was out in the cold, watching through the back window. Caleb’s words, my brother’s presence—none of these things really make me feel included here.

But Lucy’s concern does.

Seeing her watching me with compassion fills the emptiness inside me in a way nothing else can. For the briefest of moments, I give in to the feeling and let it wash through me. A warm glow ignites in my chest, and my eyes sting with tears of an entirely different kind.

For the first time in my life, I feel safe.

It feels like I’ve come home.