(Mis)fortune (12 page)

My eyes locked on Emmitt, and my stomach summersaulted as usual.  Panic flared.  What was Nana telling me?  Emmitt continued to play with the boys, but I could tell by the cant of his head that he listened.  Was he waiting for me to try to run?

Nana reached over and patted my hand.

“It’s a lot to take in, but nothing to worry about.  With humans, we werewolves typically don’t feel or scent anything that would indicate we’re compatible with you.  Oh, a few have tried to have relationships, but they were shallow connections that never lasted long.”

Emmitt cast a quick scowl at Nana over his shoulder before returning to the game he played with my brothers.

Nana picked up a water bottle lying in the shade of her bag and handed it to me.  “Would you like me to tell you more about our kind?”

Until she mentioned the last bit about humans and werewolves not working, I’d been tying my mental running shoes, thinking my vision an inevitable outcome.  Could I take more? 
Think of your brothers
, I told myself.  If I wanted to avoid the fate Blake had planned for me, I had to understand what his words had meant and why he’d forced those monthly dinners.

I nodded, took a sip of water, and tried to relax.

“Werewolves live in packs.  Historically, at least as far back as we can remember, packs were small with an alpha pair leading maybe three other Mated pairs and their young.  Since Charlene came to us, Emmitt and Jim’s mother, there have been several changes, which include all of the smaller packs merging into a large one.  Charlene put the backbone back in our pack and brought us together by sheer determination.  It’s because of her plans for pack growth that I am here with Emmitt and Jim.  We are trying to establish another pack location because the main one in Canada is growing too large for the space.

“Our society is like any other in that we each have a place in it.  Elders are the keepers of knowledge and peace.  Pack leaders keep the peace within their own pack, but Elders keep the peace between packs.  Almost all werewolves belong to a pack.  However, some werewolves choose to live on their own.  Those we call Forlorn.  They can still hear the Elders and have the same compulsion to obey, but they follow no pack leader.”

“So Emmitt’s mom is the pack leader?” I asked trying to wrap my head around everything she’d shared.

Nana laughed softly.  “Technically, no.  Emmitt’s father is the leader.  But Charlene influences the pack in her own right.”

I mulled over the information.  General information about werewolves was helpful and none of it sounded too bad, but I didn’t see how it connected to what Blake said the night he pinned me to the wall.

“Where in there does biting become involved?”  The question slid out of my mouth before I could consider how it sounded.

Nana gave a little cough, Jim roared with laughter, and Emmitt gazed at me, looking troubled.  I dropped my eyes to the sand, feeling a flush creep into my face.  Apparently, biting wasn’t a polite topic of conversation for werewolves, either.

“Can I ask where these questions are coming from?” she asked after a moment.

“Just curious,” I mumbled.  “Maybe we should eat lunch,” I suggested diverting the direction of our conversation.

I didn’t ask any further questions for the rest of the day even though Nana offered to continue her explanation of their race.  Instead, I moved away from the water to sit in the shade of the trees that lined the beach.  Humidity weighed the air, making it difficult to breathe as the day progressed.

Before the sun set, we packed up and headed back home.  I insisted on dinner in our own apartment.  No one liked my answer.  My gaze locked briefly with Emmitt’s before I turned to go upstairs.

If werewolves and humans weren’t a thing, why had Blake’s men scented me?  More to the point, why had Emmitt?  I had no doubt that was what he’d done when he held me just outside of Nana’s door.  Were they all just looking for a “shallow connection” with me because of my premonitions?  That answer would make sense if Emmitt
knew
about my premonitions.

*    *    *    *

My stock market premonition struck before the boys finished breakfast.  It marked the end of our second week away from Blake.  So much had happened in that time yet, other than moving locations, nothing fundamental had changed.  Blake still trapped me.  He held me through my fear of discovery.  That, and the fact that werewolves were still present in my life, kept me wary.  I’d been used for my predictions for too long to trust easily.

Liam and Aden raced downstairs to bug Emmitt and Jim, and I absently followed.  How I could smoothly pass along the information without being obvious?

The humidity from the day before still lingered.  Sweat beaded on my forehead as I sat in the shade of the porch.  Jim eyed our glistening faces and ran into town, returning with a sprinkler.  The boys squealed with excitement once he explained its purpose.  Another first for them.

I watched them from the porch, not feeling up to joining in the fun.  Emmitt stayed close, watching me.  I struggled to hide any visible sign of the worry I felt as the ticker continued to run.

Nana stepped onto the porch, making her first appearance of the day.  She held her cordless phone to her ear.

“Michelle, I have my friend on the phone from last week.  He wanted to thank you for your recommendation, which looks really good so far, and he wanted me to ask if you had any other advice.”

I stared at her for a moment, thinking.  This was perfect, but I couldn’t just spew out the information again with Emmitt watching so closely.

“Uh, I haven’t looked at the paper, yet.  If we have one, I can take a look at it.  Maybe you could give your friend a call back later this afternoon?”

I hoped it would look like I had researched the information and had just been very lucky.  I would have to figure out something else for the next one, though.  Three in a row wouldn’t go unnoticed.

Nana nodded and disappeared inside as she conveyed the message.  She came back a moment later with the paper.

*    *    *    *

The next morning, the boys excitedly ran downstairs.  I had no reason not to let them terrorize the neighbors.  Aden came back up a minute later crying because Jim had already left for work.

To console him, I suggested we cook for Jim.  Aden perked up at the prospect.  We decided on some cookies.  While we measured out the flour, Nana knocked on the door.

“Good morning, Michelle.  Liam mentioned he didn’t know the ABC song.  Would you mind if they spent some time with me a few times a week so I can work on their alphabet with them?”

I stared at her as a horrible, sinking guilt made me shrink inside.  My brothers had been denied so much.  As soon as they could speak, they hadn’t left the house, and their care had fully fallen to me.  Defiance on my part had meant a lock down for all of us.  When locked in our separate rooms, they went without food or contact, except for each other.  David hadn’t liked kids and only tolerated them outside of their room when they kept quiet.  I’d taught them basic things that applied to our caged life at the time but hadn’t thought of teaching them more.

Something must have shown on my face because Nana stepped further into the apartment, looking concerned.

“There’s nothing wrong with them not knowing the ABC’s, yet.  Four and five is just the right age to start learning.  I have so many of my old materials left, and, frankly, I miss working with children.  I thought I would offer.”

Emmitt’s comment came back to me.  Who better to teach them than a teacher?  I reluctantly nodded and promised to send Aden down as soon as we finished the cookies.  He felt strongly that he needed to help make them for Jim.

When he tromped downstairs a while later, I sighed.  As much as they drove me nuts, they also kept me company.  With nothing else to do, I lounged on the couch and read the book I’d borrowed.  Their enthusiastic singing echoed the halls as the oven warmed the apartment to unbearable.  Baking cookies in summer was not a good idea.

Sweating, I tossed the book aside and changed into my swimsuit.  I opened all the windows and doors to let out the heat.  When I opened the French doors to the porch, a nice breeze shifted past me, and I stepped outside.  Protected by the overhanging roof, shade cooled the wooden deck.  I stood there for a moment letting the wind tease my skin and realized I’d found the perfect place to read.

I went back inside, took the last batch of cookies from the oven, then grabbed my book and blanket.  The porch didn’t just give me a cool place to read.  It also muffled the boys’ boisterous singing.  I relaxed on the blanket and enjoyed the breeze.

An hour later, Emmitt stepped onto the porch from the door of the adjoining apartment.  I glanced up from the book.  When he saw me, he paused.  He was laden with paint cans, rollers, and plastic and looked like he could use a hand.

“Let me help,” I said, jumping up.  I took two of the cans from his hands and smiled up at him.

His face flushed.  He swallowed hard and glanced down at what I wore.

I pretended not to notice his reaction and lifted a can.  “What are you doing with all of this?”

He met my eyes again, and his voice was rough when he spoke.

“The outside needs painting, too.  I thought I’d start on it while the paint dried in there.”

He gave me one last look, turned, and walked to the far corner of the porch where he set down the painting supplies.

“Is the apartment almost done?” I asked as I trailed behind him.  I set the two cans next to his pile.

“I still need to work on some plumbing, but its close.  Want to see it?” he said, looking at me once more.  The flush had faded, but he was careful to maintain eye contact.  The steady look
made it hard to pretend I didn’t feel underdressed.

“That’s okay.”

“I could actually use your input on the colors in the bathroom.  Nana bought a variety of cans on clearance, and I’m down to a yellow and a grey.”

The idea of talking about paint colors shouldn’t have caused my stomach to dip or a pink flush to spread across my skin.  Yet, it did.  I pushed down the jitters, resisted the urge to tug at the edges of the bikini top, and nodded.

He smiled at me.  His dimple made my heart stop.  He extended a hand to indicate I should lead.  I turned and walked to the apartment’s porch entrance.  The door led into a large, open-concept living room and kitchen.  Thick, clear plastic covered the beige carpet immediately inside the door, protecting it from paint spills.  White speckles already decorated it from painting the ceiling.  He had painted the wall dividing the living room and kitchen from the rest of the apartment a dark brown.  A warm, light brown coated the remaining walls.  The main door to the apartment was located just inside the kitchen area where the beige carpet transitioned into large earth-toned tiles.

“Wow.  This looks great.”

“I’m glad you like it,” he said quietly.  “Let me show you the bathroom.”

He led me to the hallway where an orphaned toilet waited for installation.  He stopped just outside the bathroom door.

“We can’t go in.  The grout is still wet, but you can see the colors in the tile from here.”

He moved aside so I could lean against the wall and peek into the room.

In the process of leaning forward to look, I knocked over a loose piece of molding.  It tipped inward toward the newly grouted floor.  I didn’t even have time to wince before Emmitt snapped it out of the air, impossibly fast.  The move reminded me of our differences, and a tiny bit of fear grew in the pit of my stomach as I recalled how quickly Frank had leapt over the table to claim his right to scent me first.

A shudder ran through me.

“Don’t,” Emmitt whispered hoarsely.

I turned to him, confused.

“You are the one person who will never have to fear me.”

Fear him, why would he say that?  Usually, I just felt confused.  Like now.  The only time I felt fear around him, I’d ended up kicking him in the...

“I’m sorry I kneed you.”

He reached out and gently touched my cheek, feathering his fingertips over it from temple to jaw.  My heart started to beat faster.

“I’m sorry I scared you,” he murmured as he moved closer.

I glanced down at his lips.  My breath hitched.  I looked up, and I couldn’t think.  His deep blue eyes held me in place, waiting, anticipating.  His head lowered.  My lips parted.

“And I’m sorry I missed it,” Jim said from the living room, startling me.

Emmitt’s hand dropped back to his side, and his eyes flicked down the hall in annoyance.

Free of the spell, I put some space between us, tried to calm my thundering hear, and peeked at the bathroom one more time.

“The yellow won’t work, but the grey might.  Too bad you didn’t have a blue-grey to match the flecking in the tile.”

I kept my eyes locked on the bathroom, not wanting to explore what might be in Emmitt’s gaze.  He apparently hadn’t understood my friendship speech as well as I’d hoped.  He needed to be the strong one and stay away from me, because I had very little willpower when it came to him.

“Thank you,” Emmitt said.