Chapter Ten

 

By noon, we’re on the road. Tank insisted on driving, even though he’s twice as big as the seat. His big hands are monster sized on the steering wheel. Before we left, Sunny insisted on burning sage and cedarwood throughout the vehicle to clear negative energy for our journey. The cabin smells of burnt herbs and spilled paint from her art projects. Even though Tank hasn’t said a word, I can tell he’s pretty close to the breaking point.

I decide to sit in the back with my mom to act as buffer.

“He has such masculine energy,” Sunny tells me in a loud whisper. “Do you think he’ll let me paint him?”

Mom paints nudes. “No, I don’t think so. He’s a very private person.”

Sunny considers this.

“I wouldn’t ask him,” I add. “He gets... grumpy.”

“You certainly have a way with him.”

Me? “I don’t know about that. He’s kinda bossy.” Especially in bed. Not that I’m complaining.

“I like him,” Sunny decides.

I let Sunny read my palm. She’s always been a tarot reader, and palmistry is something new for her.

“Interesting, interesting. You’ll live a long life, darling, and have one great true love. You’ll have some challenges along the way, but it’ll work out in the end.” She drops my hand, looking expectantly at Tank.

“What about a tarot reading?” I ask before she can grab his hand. Knowing her, she wouldn’t care that he’s driving a stick shift.

My request buys another few minutes of silence as Sunny digs in her giant sack-like purse for the deck of cards she always carries. This time it’s not traditional tarot but some kind of angel cards.

“You will go on a great journey—not in distance, but in importance.”

“Makes sense,” I agree.

“You will face a great enemy.” Sunny frowns.

“I’ve always wanted a nemesis,” I say absently.

“Darling, this is very serious.”

“Oh, I know. I fear for my life every time I go to the bathroom. Toilet snakes.”

“What are toilet snakes?” Sunny asks.

“They’re snakes that come out of the toilet while you’re sitting on it, and bite you.”

Sunny gasps.

“Foxfire,” Tank rumbles.

“What?” I ask innocently.

“There’s no such thing.”

“Oh I know that,” I say. “I’m still scared of them.”

His lips twitch.

“Speaking of toilet snakes…” Sunny says.

Tank sighs, and takes the next rest stop exit. As Mom and I leave to go the bathroom, he pulls out his phone. I hasten through my business and leave Sunny admiring some murals.

Tank’s on the phone, I approach slowly, giving him space until he thanks whoever he’s talking with and hangs up.

Instantly, his eyes land on me.

I give a little wave and bounce to his side.

“I just called in a few favors,” he tells me. “I have people looking into your father’s whereabouts. By the time we reach Moab, we should know more.”

“Thanks.”

“Don’t mention it.”

“What about Garrett?”

“Haven’t heard from him.”

“Still? Is he usually this hard to get hold of?”

“No.” He rubs the back of his neck. “I got a feeling—something’s going on.”

“Do you need to go?”

“I’m going to see this through.”

A thrill goes through me. It shouldn’t. He’s not choosing me over the pack, not forever. But it stills feels good.

“Thanks.”

He cups my chin for a moment and studies my face. He’s going through all this trouble. I hope it’s worth it.

I hope I’m worth it.

But, even if I am, in the end, he hasn’t made me any promises.

“So… my mother.”

He just shakes his head.

“I’m really, really sorry.” I begin. “She means well.”

He grasps my nape and pulls face up to his, claiming my mouth. His kiss is dominant, demanding. I can’t decipher the meaning. Is this more punishment? Promise?

“Don’t apologize again, baby. You can’t help who your mom is. None of us can.”

My mouth twists into a wry smile. “Well, my mom believes all babies choose their parents from the other side. We pick them for certain lessons we want to learn or something.”

He frowns, shutters going down over his face again. He must be thinking of his own mom. What lessons—or scars—did she leave on him?

“Do you think she knows something? I mean, deep down? She did name me Foxfire.”

“I don’t know, baby.” He rests his hand on the back of my neck and kneads it a little. I didn’t realize how tense I’d gotten. “I wouldn’t know what’s going on her head.”

“I will say this. She’s friendly. She’s never met anyone she didn’t like.” Sunny is at a picnic table with a group of tourists. She’s got her astrology book out and is doing their horoscopes. “Are you close with your dad?”

“Yeah. We were on our own for a few years, before we found Garrett’s dad’s pack.”

“Must have been rough.”

“He never really got over what my mom did to him.”

“Her leaving?”

“Not just that. When she left, she stole from the pack. Money. Each pack has central finances that everyone pays into, in case of emergencies, to pay for a safe house, that sort of thing. A small percentage, but it adds up. When my mom left, she took almost fifty grand.”

“Whoa.”

“Yeah. But that’s not the worst. My dad was second in the pack. He was in charge of the finances. He was the reason she had access. So when she left…”

“He was blamed.”

“We were in disgrace. Dad went from second in the pack to having his position in jeopardy. Everyone wanted to fight him. He was afraid for me, so we left and wandered around a while until we found a new pack. A good one in Phoenix—run by Garrett’s dad. They welcomed us, but Dad never recovered.

A new shifter has no rank, Tank had said.

“Didn’t your dad have to fight for dominance again?”

“The pack he chose didn’t make him fight for his place. But Dad didn’t try to establish dominance. He took a low rank and didn’t bother to fight. Almost like he stopped caring.” Tank rubs his forehead. “Anyway. It was a long time ago.”

“Parents.” I shake my head. “Can’t live with them, can’t live without them.”

“You can’t replace family,” Tank says softly.

Pain flashes through me.

“What was it like, being on your own with just your dad?”

“Stressful. Most lone wolves are outcasts. Packs try to run them out of their territory. I was only nine, but my dad made sure to teach me to shift, to fight. Even if we found a decent pack to join, he knew I’d need to be strong to fight to keep my place. Know the rules, that sort of thing.”

“That explains a lot.”

“What?”

“You’re just so… rule abiding.”

“Rules are important.”

“So is having fun.”

“Rules keep pack members safe. Wolves who don’t follow them are ostracized.”

I suck in a breath. Is that what he’s afraid of, for me? That I’ll join a pack and be kicked out because of my fabulous Foxfire-ness?

“I’m sure you’re a perfect pack citizen,” I mutter. “A pillar of society.”

“I wasn’t when I first joined.”

“Please.” I sniff. “You’ve never made a faux pas in your life. Me, I’m a walking talking faux pas.”

“Yeah, you do that on purpose.”

“What do you mean?” My chest is tight. I’m not sure where he’s going with this.

He tugs a lock of my hair. “This screams notice me. But that’s not what you want, is it?” He keeps playing with my hair. “In the wild, bright colors can mean poison. You dye your hair this wild to say stay away, I’m a freak.”

“Well, I am.”

“No you’re not.”

I shrug. “People are gonna think I’m weird. I may as well encourage it.”

“You push people away.”

“Oh, because you’re so emotionally available? I’m Tank.” I mimic his deep voice and solemn look. I eat trucks for breakfast. Why, no, I’m not a werewolf. I’ll punish you if you say that again.” By the end, I’m giggling.

He shakes his head at me.

“I know you,” I tease. “You can’t hide from me.”

“You don’t need to hide from me, either,” he says. Before I can ask him what he means, he calls, “Sunny, we’re heading out.”