His Secret Child

Chapter 1

The night started out slow for me, working the graveyard shift at the town grocery store. Marty's is your all-around average store, which includes the very boring and silent graveyard shift.  I ended up stuck with this shift after losing a game of rock-paper-scissors. My co-workers wished me good-luck as they clocked out for the day and I pulled out a used book I borrowed from my school library.

Ringing pulled me from the story. My phone vibrated and rang from where it sat beside me. I glanced up, not seeing any body in the store, before answering.

"Hello?" I answered.

"Hey, Gwena," Clay, my adopted dad, greeted. "I wanted to know what you wanted for your twenty-first birthday party. Lucy thinks we should go all out, but Dylan said you'd prefer something small."

Clay had adopted me when I was twelve from the orphanage I'd lived since I was abandoned at four months old by my birth parents. Him and his wife, Lucille, had welcomed me with open arms. And so had their two kids, Dylan and Lucy. He was thirteen and she was nine when I entered their family. 

I chuckled. "I don't care. I'll be happy as long as everyone I love is there." The list of which wasn't long. It included Clay, Dylan, Lucy, and few others. "Also, why are you up so late discussing this? It's 3 a.m. for Pete's sake." Clay didn't answer. "Hello?"

"Oh, what's that, Dylan?" Clay said, voice far away. "Yeah, hold on, I'm coming. Listen, Gwena, I have to go. Dylan needs me." The end-tone rang as I mused what he was up to. It was obvious he was planning something he didn't want me to know about. Whatever it was, he had three days to get it done.

Shrugging, I turned back to my book. The bell above the door jingled indicating someone had entered the store. "Hello, welcome to Marty's," I greeted reflexively without looking up. Thirty minutes later, a man approached, setting his things on the conveyor belt. He was absolutely gorgeous with coffee brown hair and electric blue eyes, which burned into me. I shifted uncomfortably. It had been awhile since I had a release and my eyes gravitated to those sculpted muscles under his tight shirt. My wolf, who usually stayed quiet, stirred.

"$41.32 is your total," He handed me his card and I completed the transaction. After bagging everything, I said, "Have a nice night, sir," and watched the god of a man walk away. Too bad I was working. I had strict rules about work and social affairs. They were kept separate. If I saw him again, I won't pass the opportunity up again. My wolf agreed. I shouldn't pass him up again.

An hour before the sun came up, I was relieved of my shift and drove home to take a two hour nap then go on border patrols. I worked more than five patrols a week along with four shifts at Marty's. While Lucille had disliked my double jobs, Clay always encouraged me to push myself and grow stronger. But when Lucille passed away two years ago, Clay didn't encourage me as much before. Sometimes he ask that I do less. I couldn't do that. I had to on par with the rest of the pack. I wasn't unwelcomed, but people always whispered about me when I was adopted. I couldn't show any weakness. 

There was also another, secret reason, that I never shared with anyone. Not even with my closest friend, Maybelle. I had to stay strong so that I didn't lose anyone else. Lucille had been a bystander in a rogue wolf attack and fell victim to their violence. That day, I promised myself that if I stayed strong, I wouldn't lose anyone and no one would leave me. Patrols were quiet and boring, except when Maybelle joined me.

"It feels like it's been forever since I last saw you," whined Maybelle as she pulled me into a hug.

"I know," I replied, giving her a good squeeze. She was my closest and only friend. We had met when I first arrived here. All the other kids had stayed away from me, probably because of their parents, but Maybelle didn't. She found me on the school playground and asked if I wanted to be her friend. Very straightforward and confident, the total opposite of me.