Chapter Three

Growing up, I imagined being in my mid-twenties, mated, living in a glorious pack, and having a passel of pups. I wasn't even sure where I got the notion that I wanted to be part of a pack or what I thought a "glorious" pack would be, but I'd kept that dream for years. I'd tell people how I was going to be a house mate with pups running everywhere. Basically my plan was to be the equivalent of a 1950s housewife but with fur. It was kind of messed up, thinking about it. I blame it on all the storybooks I used to devour.

As I got older, I wised up and grew out of that phase. I realized that was not what life was about. Sure, it would be great to find a mate and settle down to raise a family. And I might even want to do the house-mate thing, but I wanted choices—not to be stuck in a role because all other options had passed me by.

I was more than just some omega who'd grow pups, do dishes, and bake cookies. I was smart, kind, creative, and hardworking. I could be anything I put my mind to as long as I didn't shut all the doors before I decided which ones I wanted to walk through.

That desire to be more than my childhood fantasy got me through college and earning my business degree. I scraped and saved every penny I could in the hopes of one day starting my own business. I wasn't cut out to be in a cubicle all day every day. And if I were being honest, I wasn't so great at being told what to do. But being the boss? I saw a future there.

At the time, I wasn't even sure what that business would be, but I wanted something I could manage on my own, that had the potential to sustain a family if I chose to go that route, and that would make people happy. The last part was nonnegotiable to me.

A lot of the people I went to school with picked things to make the most profit, and some of them were even focused on products that actively harmed people, all with an eye to making money. I might not have been as focused as they were, but I think in a lot of ways, I understood what I wanted more than they ever would because I knew the person I wanted to be.

I'd been out of school for a few years and hadn't really figured out exactly what "it" was that I was going to do. I'd spent all of it working a little bit here and a little bit there at a local bar to save money, as I spent my days doing exactly what I'd hoped to avoid—an office day job. It wasn't ideal, but it worked for me. The nice thing was that drunk people tipped well, and I was able to save a lot over a fairly short period.

But when the time came, and I finally saw where I was meant to be and what I was meant to do, I didn't have enough saved up. So I did what every other entrepreneur-to-be would do: I sold pretty much anything I could, counted all my money, and put the best offer I possibly could on an old motel in the middle of nowhere, sight unseen. It was a big, bold move, and terrifying.

The first day, when I got off the train and the real estate agent drove me there, I was in shock. The person who took the listing pictures had done a great job making the place look even better than its best. The repairs were a lot more intense than I'd expected. But that was okay. Unlike a hotel, where everything was all in one building going straight up, this was spread out, and I could do one room at a time, cleaning it up the best I could. If money got tight, I could check out the Grizzly, the local bar. Maybe they needed a bartender, or even a sub bartender. I wasn't picky which.

I'd cross that bridge when I came to it because right now, looking around the lobby, with paint chips on the floor and a hole in the upper ceiling that just needed a patch from where someone, I think, attempted to do electric work, It was hard to tell. They were definitely the fixing-it-themselves kind of people based on all evidence I'd seen so far.

The thing was, I didn't mind the added work, the deceptive pictures, or even the trash they'd randomly left around the place. It took a total of five-point-three seconds for me to sense that I was home. This was where I was supposed to be. Would I have preferred to have someone by my side? Absolutely, but that didn't take away from my wolf's sense of peace here.

I made a to-do list for this room and created a supply list. It wasn't as bad as it initially looked. A good cleaning and a coat of paint could fix many of the issues. Knowing it was the room people would see first, I added fresh plate covers and a new overhead light. It was going to be great.

My wolf was itching to get out and stretch his legs and grab a bunny or two and, once my list was complete, I decided to let him out for a bit before driving the rather long distance to the store. As great as it was being near the national park and surrounded by gorgeous woods and mountains, having everything far away was going to take some getting used to. I couldn't just "run" to the big-box store to grab a quick item.

I went outside, shucked my clothes, and took my fur. Two seconds later, he was tracking a fox, happier than I'd seen him in years.