Page 3 of Scars of the Sun

All the way to the car, I pondered the exchange. There was certainly something nice about the body contact—Am I touch starved? Was it possible to be when I now had little Wolf pups climbing on me more often than not?

The leather seats of the car burned the backs of my thighs, and I rolled the windows down as I pulled out of the Montessori school. My brother was at work, my sister-in-law gone to a coffee shop to work on her new book, so what was there for me to do?

After grabbing my own coffee and saluting a typing-away Sylvie, I stopped by the pharmacy to pick up one of my prescriptions I had sent here when I moved into my brother’s home. After that, there was nothing else to dobutgo home. I knew no one else in town, didn’t have anyone worthwhile to get to know.

A blue-stained tongue flitted through my mind, but the image was watery, seen through two panes of glass as we drove away the first night I arrived. Much clearer, though, was his scent. Clove and chiles. Humid nights and spice to roll around in, to revel and be loose in.

I refused to just walk around town until I caught a whiff of it. Even when I caught traces, stating that he was stillsomewhere, what the hell was I going to say if we collided? He’d said no words to me, just done his job, and we’d left.

No, I reasoned with myself,I need to concentrate on being here, helping my brother’s family, and just—moving.

I pulled into my brother’s preferred spot in front of the cabin and cut the car off. The sun was fully bearing down, now, with no clouds to shield me from its burning. My skin was slick beneathmy hoodie, and it only barely started cooling when I walked into the icebox that was Orion and Sylvie’s home. The scent of it rang strongly of them and their children, and temporarily swirling with… me. It was easy to point out, the thing that only barely belonged, but I was grateful to have a space that waswarm.

Typically, I posted up on the couch with a book or the TV turned to whatever that could hold my attention. The garden out back was Sylvie’s domain, with me only her bumbling assistant, so I didn’t dare touch it while she was away. My brother’s work shed beside it was locked when he wasn’t around, and I knew fuck all about carpentry or woodworking.

There were enough books to keep me occupied for a century or two, but, somehow, it felt like I’d already made it through half of them. I wandered the house aimlessly, feeling the smooth wood, cold tile, and soft rugs beneath my bare feet. Picked up stray toys when I encountered them then returned to my march to keep moving.

They said idle hands are the devil’s playthings, and when I crossed through the kitchen again, I felt dark, self-serving desires take hold. I knew where everything was, now, and it would be so easy. With no one home and my quick healing, no one would have to?—

I ran out of the house, into the blazing summer heat that felt far too early for May. I let the soles of my feet burn on the patio, my bare legs be slapped and marked by the sun. And when my phone started ringing in my back pocket, only to be an incoming call from mymother, I flung my phone away from me. It landed with a soft thud, in the grass somewhere, but there was no way I could handle her, no way I could not reveal where I was or that I’d left everything. And then she would guilt and shame and pull it out of me what I’d done, what I’d tried to do. Then she’d be unbelieving at the same time as trying to drag me back, and itwould suffocate me. I could feel it plugging my throat now, going into my lungs, and, and?—

My fingers scrabbled at the neckline of my hoodie while my legs carried me to the shimmering water just some feet away. Running, now, I pulled it over my head, felt the phantom-tender scrape against my forearms. At the edge of the lake, I flung down my sweatshirt and unbuttoned my shorts, jumping out of them, uncaring, just needing to feel something, to get the dark hazeoff.

The water wasn’t cold, but it was far cooler than the air around me. I kicked up a raucous splash, naked and barely conscious in my panic. With desperate mental hands, I tried my best to pull up my list. The soft lake floor squelched between my toes, usually a wholly unpleasant sensation but now something to cling onto. I went and went until only my head was above water.

“O-one,” I recited once it finally, finally became tangible, “The first sip of coffee in the morning. For the taste and ritual of it.”

I released my feet from the bottom of the lake, moved my arms until I was floating on my back. I let my front bake under the sun and fought for another breath.

“Two,” I said with a hoarse, tear-filled whisper. “A pile of soft blankets and pillows after a hot shower. Three, being called ‘Mona’.”

I filled my lungs to their capacity, emptied them till there was nothing left. Imagining a square and following the borders with each draw. “Four. Being ‘Auntie Mona’.” That one elicited a tear that became the water of the lake, accepting and holding my secrets and weakness.

Stuttering and bobbing with the tranquil water, I felt the urge I almost succumbed to shrink and fall back. For now. “Eight. A…” my lip trembled, so I puckered my lips to force the next exhale, “a hug from a stranger.”

I was past the point of judging myself for how pathetic it sounded, just let my confession get carried into the leaves hanging above and started again. I recited it like a chant, a prayer, while the world turned and shifted and moved around me. Fish swam below, the birds flew above, and I waited until I felt all the bends of water around my skin. The drops seeping across my scalp and up the sides of my neck.

It could’ve been minutes. Could’ve been hours, but when I finally emerged with my list tucked away again, I retrieved my clothes with pruny but steady hands. I refused to look anywhere else, bear witness to other parts of me, lest having to dive into the water again to shock my system.

I reluctantly took up my phone after reminding myself that my brother and sister-in-law also couldn’t get in contact with me if I left it in the yard. And the girlish hope that… Dad might call, too.

My shower was long, scalding, and after fully enacting Number Two, I indeed lay down on the guest bed with one of Sylvie’s books in hand. Darkness that wasn’t mine was welcome, and I reread the story of female rage and gore while I kept myself bound in softness and calm.

CHAPTER TWO

RAMONA

Whatever I’d thought a pack meeting was going to look like, the actual thing was way more pleasant than I had imagined. I kinda just pictured Wolves sitting in the woods surrounding a fire in the ground, eating from a deer they all just killed or something. With my mother barely acknowledging that part of herself at all, and my lack of ability to shift altogether, my firsthand knowledge of Wolf customs was slim.

I recrossed my legs, careful to not bunch up the blanket I sat on. We, actually. Delaney did indeed want to sit with me during the pack meeting, and he had made a beeline to sit beside me. Now, he was leaning forward, hanging on every word that was spoken by my brother.

The meetings rotated locations, to give all who wanted the honor of hosting an opportunity, apparently, and we were now in the sprawling backyard of a Wolf named Tina. Her place was pretty swanky, and the large fire pit we all sat around crackled.

Not every meeting was mandatory, so I didn’t think this was everyone, but there were about fifteen members in attendance tonight and about five pups that were running around and playing in the soft grass. Another Wolf named Bill had taken thereins on grilling for everyone—regular burgers and hotdogs, no deer carcasses—and I lifted my own cheeseburger off the paper plate beside me to take a bite.

My brother, Orion, sat on the other side of the fire with his mate, Sylvie, beside him. The bright yellow and orange flames of the fire and the pink tones of the sky above made his pale skin and hair look blushed. I knew from photos and old memories that his father had been more my complexion, but my brother inherited the fair coloring from our mother.

“Now that we’ve all settled with our food, it may be best to give introductions to welcome our newcomers, as well as to give pack members opportunity to get to know them better.” Sylvie shot him a bright smile while my stomach clenched at the thought of having to stand up and speak. “Unless, of course, you all don’t want to. I must admit that I’m not the biggest fan of meet-and-greet activities.”

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