"What about Garrett?"
"Haven't heard from him."
"Still? Is he usually this hard to get hold of?"
"No." He rubs the back of his neck. "I got a feeling-something's going on."
"Do you need to go?"
"I'm going to see this through."
A thrill goes through me. It shouldn't. He's not choosing me over the pack, not forever. But it stills feels good.
"Thanks."
He cups my chin for a moment and studies my face. He's going through all this trouble. I hope it's worth it.
I hope I'm worth it.
But, even if I am, in the end, he hasn't made me any promises.
"So… my mother."
He just shakes his head.
"I'm really, really sorry." I begin. "She means well."
He grasps my nape and pulls face up to his, claiming my mouth. His kiss is dominant, demanding. I can't decipher the meaning. Is this more punishment? Promise?
"Don't apologize again, baby. You can't help who your mom is. None of us can."
My mouth twists into a wry smile. "Well, my mom believes all babies choose their parents from the other side. We pick them for certain lessons we want to learn or something."
He frowns, shutters going down over his face again. He must be thinking of his own mom. What lessons-or scars-did she leave on him?
"Do you think she knows something? I mean, deep down? She did name me Foxfire."
"I don't know, baby." He rests his hand on the back of my neck and kneads it a little. I didn't realize how tense I'd gotten. "I wouldn't know what's going on her head."
"I will say this. She's friendly. She's never met anyone she didn't like." Sunny is at a picnic table with a group of tourists. She's got her astrology book out and is doing their horoscopes. "Are you close with your dad?"
"Yeah. We were on our own for a few years, before we found Garrett's dad's pack."
"Must have been rough."
"He never really got over what my mom did to him."
"Her leaving?"
"Not just that. When she left, she stole from the pack. Money. Each pack has central finances that everyone pays into, in case of emergencies, to pay for a safe house, that sort of thing. A small percentage, but it adds up. When my mom left, she took almost fifty grand."
"Whoa."
"Yeah. But that's not the worst. My dad was second in the pack. He was in charge of the finances. He was the reason she had access. So when she left…"
"He was blamed."
"We were in disgrace. Dad went from second in the pack to having his position in jeopardy. Everyone wanted to fight him. He was afraid for me, so we left and wandered around a while until we found a new pack. A good one in Phoenix-run by Garrett's dad. They welcomed us, but Dad never recovered.
A new shifter has no rank, Tank had said.
"Didn't your dad have to fight for dominance again?"
"The pack he chose didn't make him fight for his place. But Dad didn't try to establish dominance. He took a low rank and didn't bother to fight. Almost like he stopped caring." Tank rubs his forehead. "Anyway. It was a long time ago."
"Parents." I shake my head. "Can't live with them, can't live without them."
"You can't replace family," Tank says softly.
Pain flashes through me.
"What was it like, being on your own with just your dad?"
"Stressful. Most lone wolves are outcasts. Packs try to run them out of their territory. I was only nine, but my dad made sure to teach me to shift, to fight. Even if we found a decent pack to join, he knew I'd need to be strong to fight to keep my place. Know the rules, that sort of thing."
"That explains a lot."
"What?"
"You're just so… rule abiding."
"Rules are important."
"So is having fun."
"Rules keep pack members safe. Wolves who don't follow them are ostracized."
I suck in a breath. Is that what he's afraid of, for me? That I'll join a pack and be kicked out because of my fabulous Foxfire-ness?
"I'm sure you're a perfect pack citizen," I mutter. "A pillar of society."
"I wasn't when I first joined."
"Please." I sniff. "You've never made a faux pas in your life. Me, I'm a walking talking faux pas."
"Yeah, you do that on purpose."
"What do you mean?" My chest is tight. I'm not sure where he's going with this.
He tugs a lock of my hair. "This screams notice me. But that's not what you want, is it?" He keeps playing with my hair. "In the wild, bright colors can mean poison. You dye your hair this wild to say stay away, I'm a freak."
"Well, I am."
"No you're not."
I shrug. "People are gonna think I'm weird. I may as well encourage it."
"You push people away."
"Oh, because you're so emotionally available? I'm Tank." I mimic his deep voice and solemn look. I eat trucks for breakfast. Why, no, I'm not a werewolf. I'll punish you if you say that again." By the end, I'm giggling.
He shakes his head at me.
"I know you," I tease. "You can't hide from me."
"You don't need to hide from me, either," he says. Before I can ask him what he means, he calls, "Sunny, we're heading out."
Foxfire
Before dusk, we check into a hotel. Two rooms. One with a king, one with two double beds. I take my stuff and follow Sunny.
"I saw a lovely marketplace on the way in," Sunny prattles as we enter the room with the double beds. "I think I used to have a stall there, in the eighties. We should go down and see it. Do you think Tank will let us?"
"I think Tank needs his space." I set my bag down. "I was actually hoping to talk to you. Why didn't you tell me about Dad?"
"You never wanted to know."
"But… I'm like him. In a lot of ways."