Page 15 of Wolf Reborn

Oh, nothing much.

He hadn’t opened the vodka. He wasn’t drunk.

He was, however, sitting in his car in the parking lot of the Second Chance Cafe, staring at the front window.

Gavin was there, working. It was no surprise, since he was usually there in the evening. Gavin worked constantly, tirelessly, more than anyone else Miles knew.

His eyes crinkled at the corners as he smiled at an old lady and handed her a cup. Miles could picture just how those bright green eyes twinkled, knew he was saying something sweet that made the woman blush and laugh.

It wasn’t a smile directed at Miles. It was probably never going to be directed at Miles again.

Part of him wondered why the wolves hadn’t killed him.

Miles was a threat to them now, wasn’t he? He knew their secret and could cause trouble for them. Not that many people would listen if he started screaming werewolf. Or, well, any people.

It was nonsense, why would anyone believe it?

Still, the fact that he knew their secret had to make him a problem. Maybe his knowledge broke some kind of werewolf law. Werewolves might have laws. He didn’t know.

No one had said a word to him, though. He hadn’t gotten a visit from any member of Gavin’s family—or was it pack? He hadn’t gotten a visit from any member of Gavin’s pack.

No threats, no questions, no glares, no growling... not even a basket of “welcome to being in the know” cookies laced with arsenic. If they’d been peanut butter he’d have eaten them anyway.

Gavin turned and glanced up, and his eyes met Miles’s.

His whole face fell, and that was what Miles had done to him. Miles had killed his smile. Miles had made him miserable.

He should go in, right, since he’d been spotted? His hands tightened on the steering wheel. The distance between the car and the shop was downright insurmountable.

Gavin was a whole universe away from him, among his pack of wolves, who lived, ate, and ran a coffee shop together. It was such a strangely mundane job for werewolves, but it worked so well for them. They’d become a local sensation overnight, and all the people Miles knew and worked with went there—for the attractive owners as much as the coffee, which he was told was also excellent.

Coffee made him sick, though, and that felt like even more of a failing when the man he loved sold the stuff for a living.

The man he loved.

The werewolf he loved?

He banged his head on the steering wheel. Why was he even here? He should just let it go once and for all. Gavin didn’t want him. Gavin had what he wanted, and he didn’t need Miles harassing him into twice-monthly dates.

He should leave Gavin alone.

There was a knock on his window, and his head snapped up to look at the shop. Gavin was still inside, still at the register. Still looking at Miles.

Hesitantly, Miles looked out the window, where dark, enormous, scowling Dez Sullivan stood.

With a cup in his hand.

Miles turned on the car and opened the window, and Dez shoved the cup at him. The scent of his usual London fog wafted up like damned ambrosia.

“I know, it sucks, we all lied. Most of us are even sorry. You know why we did it, and you’re smart enough to know we had to. Get over it faster,” Dez said. “We’re all sick of him moping.”

As soon as Miles took the cup, Dez turned and walked away without another word.

Moping?

He glanced back at the window, where Gavin was still looking at him, biting his lip.

Naturally, that was when Miles’s radio crackled to life and demanded his attention. Drunk and disorderly in town square, and he was the closest officer, of course. He sighed, set his tea in the cupholder, and rolled the window back up.

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