Coyotes and Wolves, Milo Manheim Original Story

Charm, Joke, Protect, Control, or Kill?

POV: Estella

Milo peeled out of the driveway of his family home. I doubt he would've even looked behind him first, if I wasn't in the car. His emotions were almost seeping from every pore on his body, his face grimacing and changing expressions back and forth and back again. I could only imagine the volume of the arguments that were ensuing in his mind. I knew what that was like. When you're so angry that you relive the same conversations over and over wishing you had said something more profound, more hurtful. Revenge and trauma sadly often go hand in hand. He was clearly humiliated, full of rage, and utter confusion.

The car started to swerve and he was now unintentionally hugging the left of the road. This wasn't the right time for him to be behind the wheel.

We were approaching a park near my house with a swing set and a little playground.

"Pull over." I instructed, carefully.

"What?" He demanded, grimacing in confusion, as I'd clearly pulled him out of a deep series of thoughts.

"Now, Milo! Pull over!" I shouted, curtly.

Jesus! Milo cursed internally, as he abruptly pulled the car over, and cut the engine.

"What? What's wrong?" He demanded, in a tone of concern but with a hint of irritation.

"I don't wanna get wrapped around a tree!" I snapped.

"What are you talking about, Estella? I'm fine. I can drive just fine!" He argued.

"Oh, yeah?" I challenged, opening the car door and jumping out. I quickly walked towards the driver side and pointed to the front of the vehicle. "I know I haven't driven in a while, but I don't remember ever parking half of the car up over the curb!"

"Shit." Milo cursed as he sighed, sheepishly unaware of how irratically he'd been driving.

I grabbed his hand and began walking towards the park.

"Where are we going?" He asked, abruptly.

"Just come with me, Milo!" I grumbled, impatiently.

Milo rolled his eyes, again, not great with giving over control.

I stopped in front of a set of blue, half-moon shaped swings, attached to long thick chains.

"So?" Milo shrugged dramatically, in his frustration.

"Shut up, and sit down." I ordered, curtly.

"Fine." He sighed, rolling his eyes again. He sat on the swing as the seat hugged his behind, in the same way that it had when he was a kid.

I walked behind him, and gave his giant frame a push. He started to swing forward, barely, as he was an impressively massive specimen, but he got the point and started pumping his long legs.

"Why are we doing this, exactly?" He asked with a tone of sarcasm and suspicion.

"Don't think, Lobo Blanco Gigante." I piped up, cutting off his overthinking.

"If I'm so giant, why are you pushing me on a child's swing?" He scoffed.

"Today...You, my White Wolf, are a kid." I declared, with resolve.

"Are you crazy?" He quipped, lowering his brow.

"Well, the jury is still out on that one," I quipped. "But it doesn't matter because today, you're going to have some stupid, childish, fun."

"I'm sorry, baby. You're not crazy. I just don't see the point in this." Milo protested, in an apologetic tone.

"There is no point. It is by its very definition...point-less. Without a point. Without purpose. Just because we decide to, and it's friggen' fun." I explained, pointedly.