Page 8 of A Wolf in the Garden

“All of this is for you,” she announces, once her basket is overflowing with produce.

“Wait, what?” I wasn’t expecting her to give me anything, and I don’tneedany of this food, not when it’s her secondary income.

“You used to love to cook; I’m guessing you still do? You can’t get food fresher than this.”

“I do, but Ellie… I can’t accept all of this. It’s yours.”

“And it’s mine to give. I didn’t sell at the market this weekend because of the festival here, so,” she shrugs, “some of this stuff will be rotten or bitter in a week’s time. I can’t eat through all of it myself, so you’re doing me a favour by taking it off my hands. ”

“Sure I am,” I say, making sure to sound unconvinced. She grins, the smile reaching her eyes and filling my chest with warmth at the sight of it. “I was going to run home,” I add, eyeing up the basket. “Cameron has my car.”

“Run? In jeans?”

“Uh,” I hesitate, scratching at the back of my neck. I suppose now is as good of a time as any to go into details. “I was going to shift and run on four legs.”

Her mouth drops open in a little ‘o’, her eyes wide as she searches my face. “I didn’t know how to bring it up,” she says quietly, “but I don’t actually knowwhatkind of wolf you are. The old ladies at the gate today — they’re my friends from gardening club, by the way. Yes I know, it’s a very sad social life —” she adds, noting the amused expression on my face, “anyway, they’re a bunch of old gossips and they’d heard about you from their other gardening friends —”

“Why am I not surprised?”

“Because you’re a handsome, extremely rich newcomer on the island?”

Although I’m flattered by her use of the wordhandsome, that’s not the reason people are talking. “Or because I’m a wolf.”

“Or that, yeah. Maybe. I mean you’re verybig.” Her eyes bug out comically as she realises how that could be construed, and I laugh, having caught the way her gaze darted down to my crotch ever so briefly as she spoke. It’s not like she hasn’t seen me naked before, although my cock never had a knot, pre-Unravelling. She splutters, adding “I mean you stand out in a crowd, you’re giant now! Anyway, they were debating about whether you were a werewolf or a wolf shifter, and what the difference was. But I suppose you just answered that, huh? Werewolves shift at the full moon only, right? But you just said you could run home now. The full moon isn’t ’til the end of next week.”

I note the way she shifts the basket of produce against her hip, redistributing the weight of it, and step forward, taking it from her hands. It’s heavier than I expected, and I reevaluate how strong she is. Even after working in viticulture for a few years, I often forget how much of a workout you get from gardening. In answer to her question, I say, “I’m both.”

“Both? What…?”

“Mom is a werewolf and… my father…” I pause for a moment, the wordfatherfeeling dirty in my mouth. “He’s a wolf shifter. A pairing between the two types of wolves doesn’t happen often but it does happen.” I shrug. “The result in the first generation is always wolves with two forms; the shifter wolf and the werewolf.”

Ellie remains silent, searching my face. I expect her to ask more about wolves. What I don’t expect — but what I should have anticipated — is that after nine years apart, she’s just as sharp as ever, and picks up on exactly what I’mnotsaying.

“You and your dad still aren’t getting along, are you?”

Well,fuck.

I open my mouth to say something, but freeze, not knowing where to start.Aren’t getting alongis putting it mildly.Can’t stand being in the same room as each other,is more accurate.

“You don’t have to answer,” she says quickly. “Sorry, that was… I’m being rude and nosey, prying like that.”

“No! No, ask. Please, feel free to ask me anything. I don’t think it’s rude. It’s a long story. The short answer is no. We’re no longer speaking.”Because he shifted and went for my throat.

“I’m sorry.”

The bitter part of me wants to say ‘don’t be,’ even though that’s not at all how I really feel. Almost everything regarding my family — my old pack — is broken now. The cracks were already there long before Jenny’s death nine years ago, but after she drowned everything got worse, despite our best efforts to move on, to keep living. Dealing with this kind of grief and guilt, when everyone else around you is living it too, is like wading through never-ending mud. It’sexhausting.

By the time my father tried to lay down another one of his archaic alpha laws with my sister Lacey six months ago, potentially putting her and her two kids in danger, I was done with his bullshit. It hadn’t been my intention to challenge his position as alpha that day, but he took it that way, and when the argument between us turned physical there was only ever going to be one outcome.

The reality is that it had been a long time coming, andhadto happen at some point. As an alpha myself, I’d let the question of when I’d challenge him hang over all of our heads for far too long — but even with that knowledge, it’s still a bitter pill to swallow.

“Wolves — shifters, I mean, not werewolves — we organise our communities around packs, with an alpha as leader. My father has always been the alpha of his pack. Six months ago he tried to force Lacey to…” I trail off. Lacey’s relationship with her problematic ex is not my story to tell; better Ellie hear it directly from the source. “He tried to make Lacey stay in a situation that wasn’t good for her or her kids.”

Ellie’s entire demeanour shifts, standing straighter at the mention of Lacey’s name. It’s not surprising. Before Ellie and I were ever together, it was Lacey that she’d adored. They’d been best friends every summer since they were toddlers. “Lacey has kids?”

“Yeah. Two boys. Two and four. They’re cute as fuck, but total handfuls, as you’d expect from wolf pups.”

She shakes her head in shock. “Wow.Wow.And she’s okay? You said —”

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