Page 2 of Exiled Mate

Considering how thick the tears are in my throat, it comes out as “‘mfine,” but Ember luckily speaks all of my dialects, ugly cry and all.

“Babe, it’s okay to not be fine after that.”

“Zander and I never even dated,” I sniffle.

Ember, insightful as ever, snorts. “We both know that’s not why you’re not crying.”

There’s a reason this woman is my best friend. “Yeah,” I sigh. “I know.”

“Is it him?”

“Who else would it be?”

We never say his name. Ember knows the rules. She knows that if I say Rylan’s name out loud, I’ll go into a full-blown coma for weeks.

“No need to be sassy, I’m just asking,” Ember laughs. Her voice is deep and resonant, and I always find a little comfort in it.

“Well. Yeah. It’s him.”

“I’m so sorry, babe. There’s nothing to say for stuff like this, you know?”

“Yeah,” I whisper hoarsely. “I know.”

“Do you want me to come over?”

I look at the clock. “No, I think my mom and I are going to start on the next batch of lotion tonight.”

“Oh, the rose water one?”

“Yeah,” I nod. My mom and I make organic lotions, tinctures, and other cosmetics for the pack to sell. It’s not nearly as important as the Jeep tours, or the cattle that they’re starting to run, or even as extensive as Mia’s little farm stand, but it’s nice to feel like I’m contributing to the pack.

“Will you save me some?”

I laugh, the sound odd as it moves through the constricted mess of my throat and sinuses. “Of course.”

“Love you, Terra.”

“Love you, too.”

I hang up, staring at the phone as I consider whether or not I should call her back and ask her to come over. Ember is my best friend, and she’s one of the reasons that I haven’t completely lost my shit here in Oakwood.

I love her like a sister. She’s a nurse at the hospital, she never knew her father just like I never knew mine, and she very much occupies a similar place in the pack as I do. Meaning, we’re both somehow perpetually on the edges, even though I wouldn’t say either one of us is not a valued member of the pack.

It’s just… we aren’t central to it, either.

Now that I’m done crying about Rylan, though…

I sigh.

Might as well go over to my mom’s house.

My mom lives in a little cabin, somewhat far away from the central pack housing areas. She’s an oddball as well, a wolf that spends more time digging in the dirt and foraging than hunting. We have that in common, I guess.

Both my mom and I are intensely aware of the capricious place we have in the pack. I wasn’t born in the Oakwood Pack like so many others. My mom was a lone wolf, which is generally seen as a pretty bad thing among shifters. Some shifters are solitary, but not wolves. Because my mom was a lone wolf for so long, many packs refused to take her in. Oakwood did, with me as a tiny pup still in her arms, but it was the tenth pack she visited.

We’re both aware that in order to stay here, we need to show the pack that lone wolves aren’t the bogeyman people make them out to be. It’s part of why we have this little business, and part of why I cultivate a certain image in the pack. I’m always well-dressed, my makeup is done up, and I’m on several social committees.

All to make sure that my mom and I never feel like our place in the pack is at risk.

---