Under A Latent Moon (A Werewolf Tale)

Chapter 19

For the next week Harley did exactly what Jamie suggested. Every moment that she wasn't at work, she locked herself in her room. People couldn't complain she played the victim if she wasn't around.

Playing the victim. Was it possible to play the wounded warrior without being aware of it? She was the victim, though she never intended to capitalize on it.

People got over their grief eventually. Yet it took time. No one ever went through a loss of family and moved on the next day. Harley assumed after thirteen years she'd mostly gotten past it. Apparently, it still wasn't enough.

She spent what time she wasn't at work in her room reading. When she had to leave, either for food or the bathroom, she kept her head down and talked to no one. If someone said hi, she gave them a polite smile and moved on. No conversation, no possible way she could subconsciously beg for sympathy.

The only time she really couldn't avoid was her training sessions with Will. She refused to make up excuses to get out of a commitment. A little bit of courage and determination later, she always found herself ready to train with him.

Though he tried, Will couldn't get her to break her silence either. His frustration mounted as the days passed. At first, he spent most of the time getting her to look at him, to smile at him. Then he moved on to mostly one-sided conversations. When she still denied him he kept silent, confused. She never told him anything. Fear of somehow using the truth to her "advantage" stopped her.

Her heart ached a lot these last few days.

Will didn't know what to do. She could tell by the fuming silence and the way he crossed his arms and pulled back during training. If he was really angry, he didn't show it. Instead he had her run more and more laps: his version of punishment.

Harley flipped the page of her tiny paperback romance. Some of the pages had begun to crinkle and tear and the spine was creased and broken, but that didn't stop her from reading it.

Halfway through the page, her vision blurred. Don't do it. She warned herself, putting a palm to her forehead and taking a deep breath. Don't cry.

But somehow the emotion grew and bubbled beneath her skin.

Mom, I miss you. Was that so wrong? Did it make you weak to miss your family? Though she didn't know it at the time, her family had been her tie to the world. Now, she felt like she simply floated around, like a lost balloon. No one kept her grounded. She had to find her way on her own.

Dad, Mathias, I wished you'd stayed. If they were here, no one could say she used her tragedy as an asset. Because isn't that what Jamie said? Your family died. Get over it. Don't use it as an excuse to get sympathy.

She choked on a sob, just barely trapping it inside her, and launched her book hard at the wall. A chunk of pages ripped from the binding.

I'm alone. Alone. Alone. Alone. The word felt heavy, like a punch, and just as painful.

This isn't home. Home was where people liked to see you. Where you felt comfortable. Where happiness wasn't seen but instead felt through laughter and sparkling excitement. Home was with people who love you.

Harley had no one who loved her.

~

Will

If he hadn't already punched a hole in the pack house kitchen, he would have surely punched another one. Maybe through his own brain.

"She didn't answer?" He asked Bailey.

Bailey, sitting cross-legged on the grey couch in his living room, shook her head. "I tried this afternoon. She didn't even tell me to go away."

"You didn't try again?"

Bailey rolled her eyes. "No, Will. I didn't. I figured if she wanted to pretend she wasn't in there, I could too."

Will had to stop himself from growling at her. "What kind of friend are you?"

Exasperated, Bailey threw her hands up. "Why am I the bad guy? I'm not the one shutting everyone out all of a sudden."

"As her friend, you're supposed to get to the bottom of it and figure out what the hell is wrong. How are we going to fix a problem when we don't know what the problem is?"

"You think I'm not as beat up about this as you are?" Bailey almost shouted. "She won't even answer the damn door! How do you think that makes me feel?"

Will drew his fingers through his hair and took a rather large swig from his beer.

From across the room, Cam held up a hand. "If I could interject--"

"Shut up, Cam." Will snapped.

"Hey!" Cam barked back. "I get you're in a pissy mood because the girl you like won't give you the time of day, but that doesn't give you the excuse to treat the rest of us like shit. Don't be that asshole."

Will clenched his jaw. He was kind of being an asshole. He was just so pissed. Pissed at the situation. Pissed that his attempts didn't work. And pissed at Harley for not telling him what was up. Obviously something was. He knew girls enough to know that they didn't just flip like she had without some trigger.

Bailey heaved a big sigh. "Look, I can try again tomorrow. But if nothing happens, there's not much I can do. Friendship is a two way street, Will. I can't just force myself on her."

"You're right. You're both right." He tried to get his wolf to settle down, but his beast wanted nothing more than to run over to the pack house, bust in the door, and demand that Harley share whatever burden she had with him.

"Honestly, it looks like we'll have to wait it out," Cam said, "and hope that she'll eventually come to us." He slapped his knees and stood. "Now I'm going to get going before you rip my head off again."

"Me too." Bailey stood. "I've got patrol tomorrow morning."

"Are you ever not patrolling?" Cam asked offhand.

In answer, Bailey pushed Cam toward the door. Right before she went out the door, she turned back. "It'll work out, Will. Harley may be stubborn, but she's not a bitch. She'll come to her senses."

After they left, Will cracked open the bottle of whiskey on top of his fridge. He'd been saving it for the perfect moment. Now seemed like a better time.

Instead of pouring a glass, he drank from the bottle.

~

His clock said twelve. At least, he thought it said twelve. The numbers wouldn't stay still long enough for him to read it correctly.

He should be in bed. For him, business started early in the morning and if he didn't get some shut-eye soon, he'd be a grizzly by the time the sun came up. But he couldn't. The only thing swirling around in his mind were thoughts of Harley.

It hurt him to know that Harley didn't trust him enough to share. Hadn't they gotten close? Hadn't they become...friends? How long would she make him wait? Or would she even tell him?

Fuck that.

He got up, steadying himself when the world started to tilt. Wow, how much whiskey did he drink?

The bottle on the table sat next to an empty beer can. Only a sip or two rested at the bottom. Okay, maybe he'd gone a little too far. He should crawl into bed and sleep it off.

But if he tucked himself in, would he really be able to go to sleep?

No. No, he couldn't take this anymore.

It took him a bit as he had to search through almost every jacket he owned but finally he found his car keys in the pocket of the jeans he currently wore. And with nothing else stopping him--not pride, not stubbornness, and not rational thought--he drove to the pack house.