Claws & Crochet

Part 82

WARNER

When I step through the front door of the shop, I find more than just my older brother waiting for me. I'm not surprised at the sight of my mom behind the register. It is her store after all. My uncle lounging beside her isn't out of the ordinary either.

What has my step slowing is the sight of my baby sister and brother relaxing on a display bench. Tanya and Isaac aren't the handiest of the Jamesons, and my sister has been avoiding working at the family business since Mom declared it was time she started earning a paycheck.

Apparently, this is now a family meeting.

On second thought, this should make everything easier. Tell everyone my decision at once, instead of having to repeat myself or risk anything getting lost in translation.

Roderick is examining a new, electric handsaw when I come in, but he immediately returns it to the shelf and gives me his full attention. He doesn't have to say anything for me to know I can spill my whole plan whenever I'm ready.

I open my mouth, but in her usual fashion, Tanya speaks first.

"Warner," she whines. "Why are we all here? I've got stuff to do."

Her teenage dramatics make me grin. "I only asked to talk to Roderick."

"Yeah, but he was giving me a ride to the bowling alley. Meghan is going to go bat shit if I'm late."

My little sister always knows how to wrench the spotlight out of someone else's hands in order to make sure it shines solely on her.

"Most seventeen-year-olds could drive themselves," I point out.

"Only the ones that haven't rear-ended cop cars," Isaac mutters, earning himself a flesh-melting glare from his twin.

"The varsity soccer team was running on the side of the road. Shirtless. That's worse driving conditions than a category five hurricane. The cop is lucky all I did was rear-end his piece of shit cruiser."

A snort sounds from behind the counter, and I glance over to catch my uncle massaging away a smile with the tips of his fingers. Mom, meanwhile, ignores our bickering in favor of inventory. Or checking receipts. Or something else that involves staring intently at the paper in front of her rather than acting as mediator between her children.

"I'll drive you after I hear what Warner has to say." Roderick remains his focused, unmovable self, not bothered in the slightest by our sister's complaining.

"Fine!" She huffs, retrieving her cellphone from her back pocket and using the screen to ignore us.

Isaac leans his head back as if he's going to take a nap, but I know better. He's quiet, unassuming, lacking the intimidating factor that is a necessary piece of Roderick's makeup. But that only allows Isaac to hear and see more than the rest of us do. He passes around town unobtrusively. So he knows things.

My guess is he's wiser than most other seventeen-year-olds. Probably more than most people three times his age, too.

I'll miss him when I'm gone. I'll miss all of them.

But not as much as I'd miss Zoey.

I love my family, but I don't need them the way I need her.

In only a few weeks, she's become the one for me. My partner. So much a part of me that the idea of losing her is on the same level as having one of my limbs ripped off.

But that's how it is for wolves. When we love, we do it deeply.

My only hope is that this knowledge will help my family understand my decision.

"I'm leaving Pine Falls."

No one was speaking before I made the declaration, but still, the shop suddenly seems a hell of a lot more quiet.

Roderick is the first to respond. "She won't stay?"

My brother sounds regretful, but not as if he plans on challenging my choice.

"This isn't her place—"

"Of course it isn't!" My mom growls.

Her fierce input has me rocking back on my heels. I knew she wouldn't like the idea of me moving, but damn. Her voice comes out so sharp it stings.

"She doesn't know us. She doesn't know our ways." Mom continues with a snarl, abandoning her receipts and stalking out from behind the counter.

Tanya isn't staring at her phone anymore, and Isaac leans forward in his seat, eyes fixed on our mother. We all know she has a temper, but something about this reaction seems different.

More intense.

"Honestly, I don't care. She knows me," I say.

Does that sound like a line from a cheesy movie or what?

Mom scoffs. "Knows you? Come on, Warner. She's pretty, I'll give you that. And charming, I'm sure. But I can guarantee, if you let her, that girl will destroy you. She'll smash your heart. Probably won't even realize it. One day, she'll just decide she doesn't need you anymore. And then she'll walk out."

The surety in her voice throws me off. Mom talks like she's an expert on the subject. Like she knows everything there is to know about Zoey. Only, the person she's describing sounds nothing like the woman I love.

"Where is this coming from? You've barely even talked to her." A growl rides my voice, an urge to defend my future mate seeping out from my wolf.

"She's a Gunner! That's what Gunner girls do. They leave."

"Rebecca . . ." Uncle Mason looks distinctly uncomfortable, and I can't help remembering my guess about his and Zoey's mother's relationship.

But I'm not concerned with the past. Only the future.

"I'm not arguing that. But when she leaves, I'm going with her."

As my mother opens her mouth, eyes gaining fire, a loud knock rings out from the side of the building. Well, loud for werewolves. A human might not have picked up on it from this distance.

But I hear it without effort, along with the desperate words that follow.

"Warner! Your bike is parked in the alley, so I know you're here! You are here right?"

Zoey.