“Are you asking if I’m human?”
“I know you aren’t.”
“The community doesn’t like outsiders?” I ask her. “Not even other shifters?”
Foxy sighs. She reaches a finger into her drink and stirs. The liquid spins around and she watches it for just a moment before turning back to me.
“The thing about loss,” she tells me. “Is that it strikes you when you aren’t expecting it. Loss comes and when it does, it steals everything from you. It takes more than you could possibly understand or know. The biggest problem is that when you lose someone, you lose more than that person. You lose a little bit of yourself and sometimes, that takes a really, really long time to get back.”
I look over at the bartender.
“Who did she lose?” I ask, understanding what Foxy is trying to tell me.
“That’s not my story to share,” she says.
“I respect that.”
“But be patient,” Foxy says. She stands and grabs her glass. She turns to head back to the other side of the bar, but she stops momentarily and touches me on the shoulder. “She’s a good woman, Robert. She’s worth fighting for.”
Chapter 3
Meredith
By the time the bar closes, I’m tired, worn out, and ready to sleep. Still, I have to wipe off all of the counters, close out my register, and do the dishes. I usually lock the doors around two, but tonight I don’t manage to actually leave the bar until almost three. Luckily, I live pretty close. After I lock up, I slide my arms into my coat and head down the little street.
Claw Valley is a tiny place. The one main road holds everything you need to live a comfortable and simple life: a grocery store, a post office, a library, and a school. The bar is located just off the main road. It’s down a little side alley. The average driver wouldn’t even know to look for the bar, but local residents can find the watering hole without much difficulty.
That’s kind of the idea.
I head down the road to my home, which is located about fifteen minutes from the bar. At least, when I go on foot, it is.
And I almost always go on foot.
It’s not just because it’s a greener way to live, although that does play a large role. No, I also like that it gives me time to unwind after work. I love getting home and having a glass of wine. I love curling up with a book and relaxing with my cats and just enjoying myself, but the reality is that my job can be pretty demanding.
Having those fifteen minutes to just be alone in the silence, to feel the cool evening air on my face, and to just be means a lot.
When I reach the little burgundy house, I stop and look up at it. The two-story home is much too big for one person, but then again, it hasn’t always just been me living here. I bought it so that my mom could live comfortably with me in her old age. That was the plan, anyway. Fate kind of stole her away from me, if I’m honest, and I didn’t get to see her grow old.
She didn’t get to truly and totally enjoy the house.
Now it’s just me and Hedgehog, my cat. Mr. Whiskers, my mother’s cat, also lives with me. Hedgehog and Mr. Whiskers are the best of friends, and although they pretend to hate each other, the reality is that they can’t.
Not really.
They’re sitting in the front window and see me almost instantly. They both start meowing like crazy and clawing at the glass.
“All right, all right,” I mutter. I fidget, trying to get my keys, and I finally yank them out and unlock the door. Instantly, both cats barrel through the living room and jump into my arms. I hug them, holding them tightly.
Yeah, it’s safe to say that I miss them, too.
“Let’s get you some food,” I murmur, and they both leap down and hurry into the kitchen. I drop my keys on the entry table, lock the front door, and kick off my shoes. Then I go into my kitchen, which is much too big for just one person, and I start rummaging around for some food. Eventually, I find some kitty treats to give the cats. While they’re munching on those, I make myself a couple of scrambled eggs, top them with shredded cheese, and start eating.
Only, it’s a tasteless snack because I can’t stop thinking about my night.
It’s not that anything went particularly badly or strangely. It didn’t. The night was overall very boring and ordinary. I mean, it’s the middle of the week, so it was honestly a really slow night, but I can’t shake Foxy’s words from my head.
Is she right?