Claws & Crochet

Part 89

WARNER

"But my hair!"

"Put the helmet on now, or you're walking to the bowling alley. I do not have time for this."

"You were a lot more easygoing before Zoey," Tanya mutters, delicately placing the spare helmet over her bouncy waves.

I ponder my sister's words as I rev my bike to life.

Was I more easygoing before Zoey moved to town and shook up my life?

Probably. Because before she got here, I had nothing to fight for. Nothing to hurry home to.

Not to mention, I had no reason to be on edge about my mom being exiled. I offered to help Roderick work out the details, but he flat out refused.

Sometimes, being the pack leader is a shit job.

He did tell me she won't be barred from communicating with us over the phone. That is, if any of us want to talk to her. I expect Tanya will, and possibly Isaac, but despite Roderick's stoic expression, I could tell how devastated he was that our mother pushed us to do this.

I, of course, am furious with her, and I know it'll be a long time before I'm in the right head space to have any kind of conversation with her.

So, by tomorrow morning, Pine Falls will be down one wolf.

The bowling alley isn't far, but every hint of space that's put between me and Zoey has my wolf growing anxious.

Tonight was rough on my protective instincts.

Still, the knowledge that I have my woman's clothes bundled in my saddle bag gives me comfort. Assures me that she'll be waiting for me when I get back.

When we pull into the cracked parking lot of aptly named 12 Lanes, I can hear the crack of heavy balls against pins mixed with laughter emanating from inside the building. Tanya dismounts and immediately rips off the helmet, as if the thing has been burning her the entire ride. I expect her to toss the headwear at me, then race inside.

Instead, she clutches the helmet against her chest, ignoring my outstretched hand.

"Is Mom really getting exiled?" My take-no-shit sister looks suddenly vulnerable.

I fight a grimace, and nod. "You understand why, right?"

"Yeah," the word comes out on a sigh. "I can't believe she won't let it go. I mean, I can hold a grudge, believe me. I still haven't gotten over the fact that Isaac cut the hair off all my Barbies when we were eight. But I'd get over it in a second if the other option meant giving up all of you."

"She's not giving up on you. Mom's just . . . going away for a little while."

My sister snorts and finally lets the helmet go, handing it back to me before she turns toward the building.

I feel guilty, and then angry because I shouldn't have to feel this way. But I can't help thinking I'm the reason we're losing our mom.

Then an image of Zoey flashes in my mind. Her naked body as she crawled under my covers just a little bit ago. Her pale skin, covered in bruises and stitched cuts from her fall. And my heart hardens toward my mother.

"Text me," I call out to my retreating sister, and she turns back to glance at me. "When you're done and need a ride home, just let me know."

She waves away my offer. "One of my friends will give me a lift."

But before she can retreat again, I'm off my bike, crossing the worn blacktop, and sweeping her up into a bear hug. "Nah, sis." I murmur against her thick brown hair. "You let me know when, and I'll be here for you."

"Pushy, much?" The words are dismissive, but her tone is full of the same vulnerability from a moment ago. Then her arms wrap around my waist, and we stand still, hugging each other.

After a minute passes, Tanya shoves me away, straightening her spine. "Stop being so clingy. People are going to think I need babying." She glares, but there's a glistening at the edge of her lashes.

I give her my goofiest smile in return. "You kidding? Everyone knows I'm the baby in the family."

She rolls her eyes even as her lips fight to smile. "Get out of here. I'll text you when I need a ride home."

"Yes, your majesty."

"Begone lowly jester!" She waves again, before skipping toward the lit-up entrance of the bowling alley. I watch her until she's out of sight, then climb back on my bike.

When I get back to my apartment, I take the stairs two at a time, anxious to see Zoey again. I wonder if she's fallen asleep in my bed. I won't wake her if she has, no matter how much I want to talk to her. To hear her say she loves me again.

But there's time for that. If she's asleep, I'll curl my body around hers and keep her warm.

When I enter my bedroom, I find Zoey propped up on my pillows, a crochet project in her lap. She has the blankets pulled up over her chest. Or at least, it looks like they started that way. At this moment, one edge sags enough that I catch a hint of her rosy nipple.

I get the urge to crawl on my knees to her, then bury my face in the valley of her breasts to breathe in her earthy sweet scent and hear the delicate pounding of a heart she claims beats for me.

"Do you think your family will forgive me for what I've done to you all?"

Her question shocks me enough to leave off staring at the hint of her nakedness and search her eyes. "What you've done?"

"I tore open old wounds and now you're all suffering."