“Ingrid?” Wes prompted. He knew everyone I knew. He didn’t have to often plan around anyone else in my calendar, but Ingrid’s name was certainly never there. She was very much part of my past.
The worst part of my past.
“Not so much,” I said. “I told her about being a shifter. It didn’t go well.”
“Huh.” It wasn’t a judgmental sound. More like Wes was considering what I’d just said.
“We didn’t have a pack, so we were always careful, you know? But Iwascareful, and I trusted her. I mean, she was my friend. What could go wrong?”
Wes shook his head in agreement. “Yeah, right.”
“Oh, Mom and Dad warned me not to. Mom said Ingrid didn’t smell right or some shit.” I laughed. “But I knew Ingrid best and I trusted her.” I kept coming back to that one point. I’d trusted her. I didn’t trust so easily these days.
“Anyway, she rejected me as soon as I revealed myself, and she made a big thing about it at a party. She kept calling me a dog and behaving like I might eat her and pretending to be scared of me. Everyone heard her. She told them all. I nearly shifted. I should have shifted maybe…given them all a nice big scare, if I’m honest. I didn’t know what to do. There was so much anger rising inside me…so much hurt that she would turn on me that way and try to humiliate me in public like that. It was like she was trying to drum up a gang to run me out of town. Like I wasn’t even worthy of being her friend anymore.” It all seemed so long ago now, but the hurt echoed through me still.
“Ingrid was human?” Again, there was no judgement there. Wes knew.
I nodded. “Yeah, but it’s not like they don’t know we exist side by side with them, and it never bothered me that she was human, and I wasn’t so…”
He laughed. It wasn’t harsh, but knowing. “Oh, honey. What you gladly accept as differences are sometimes scary to them, or they’re jealous. We’re the unknown. Haven’t you noticed that humans don’t tend to like the unknown? And think about how they treat each other sometimes. A lot of them don’t seem to likedifferent.”
I sighed. “Yeah, I guess. But I’m over it.” Even I didn’t know who I was trying to convince with those brave words. “Anyway, I ran away from the party, and I was too ashamed to tell my parents that Ingrid had hurt me so badly, so I ran away from them, too. I ran all the way here.” I gestured around the office. “And now I’m running home, I guess.”
Wes shook his head again. “Nope,” he said. “No. This time you’ve been called home. You’re not running anywhere. You’re returning to your rightful place. You’re getting a do-over.”
“It doesn’t feel right.” It wasn’t some glorious return. Dad had died. There was no triumph in this moment.
“I know.” Wes stood and I moved over, allowing him to dent my box even more when he sat and wrapped his arm around my shoulder. I rested my head against him.
“He died,” I whispered. “I hate this.”
Wes stroked my hair.
“I feel like there are so many questions and I don’t have any of the answers.” It was a thought that had kept going through my head, but it helped to voice it.
“Maybe we can find some of those answers together when we get to Gold Moon? I’ll help you any way I can. You know I will.”
I nodded. I knew. Wes had never let me down.
“But you know what?” Perhaps this was the biggest part of my confession, and I kept my voice low so I didn’t have to hear it.
“What’s that?”
“I don’t want to see who he replaced me with as general manager. Mom said she’s nice, that I should keep her on. Her name’s Charmaine. But maybe she’s like Dad’s fake daughter or something.”
Wes chuckled. “Don’t be dumb, Jo.”
I pulled away abruptly. “Did you just call me dumb?”
“Nope.” He chuckled again. “But that is the dumbest fucking thing I’ve ever heard you say. Fake daughter?” He laughed openly now, and the corners of my mouth twitched before I giggled and socked him gently on the shoulder.
“Yeah, a fake daughter! Someone in my place. You know what I mean.”
But he was right. The more I said it out loud, the dumber it sounded.
“We need to stop you disappearing down this spiral. I was wrong before.” He checked his watch before grinning at me. “We really don’t have time for this much self-pity.”
I socked him again. “Hey! It’s my dad’s funeral. I can afford some self-pity. I can make a goddamn swamp of self-pity and wallow in it for hours if I want to.”