Page 20 of Black Moon

Then, she linked her address. It wasn’t far—nothing in Grovetown seemed to be—and I thought I might do okay with a brisk morning walk.

I shot back an enthusiastic acceptance and an offer to bring something, which she brushed off in her response minutes later, and turned toward the wardrobe to weigh my options. Was this a jeans or slacks kind of meeting?

Eh, Dad had always said dress for the position you want. In this case, friend—and friends didn’t let friends wear pressed trousers.

* * *

I settled on a pair of jeans so dark they were practically formal, and a blue button up that I didn’t have to tuck in. It was a shade that made my eyes pop. That was the kind of detail that was sure to win me friends, right? Glittering eyes and a bright omega smile.

The walk to the Wilsons’ took the better part of half an hour, and by the end, I was reasonably glad she hadn’t asked me to haul anything. I was used to walking around DC, sure, but it wasn’t quite so hilly there as it was in Grovetown.

When I got to their front yard, I planted my hands on my hips and paused to take a few deep breaths. I was still my father’s son, and it wouldn’t do to meet a new acquaintance flustered and out of breath.

Mind, I should have known better than to think I’d get away with it.

When I turned to look at the porch, Claudia Wilson was standing there in the doorway, her arms crossed and a big grin on her face.

“Walk here?” she called across the green lawn. She didn’t come outside—she was wearing jeans and a T-shirt, and thick socks on her feet that I wouldn’t have wanted to get damp on the dewy grass either. That’d kind of defeat the purpose of them.

Breathily, I laughed, combing my hair back from my warm face. “Sure. I figured I’d take in the sights while I’m here. Maybe didn’t account for all the hills though...”

I looked back at the one that led up her street and frowned, but the sound of her laughter brought me back to the moment.

“Well, we’ll have to get you a drink then. Why don’t you come inside?”

I kicked my shoes off by the door, not wanting to track wet all over her carpets.

Her house was cozy, with fluffy red couches in the front room where she’d laid out a box of pastries from the local market, but she led me through to the kitchen to get coffee from the pot.

With such a tidy house, and no sign of kids around, I was surprised to see crayon drawings on the fridge, and those little photos with the nondescript gray or blue cloudy backgrounds they took every year for class photos.

“You have kids?” I asked as she poured delicious-smelling coffee into two mugs.

When I looked her way, she had pursed her lips and tilted her head. Then, she glanced past me to the fridge and laughed again. Damn, that sound came easier to her than anyone I knew back home.

“Oh, no. No, those are from Birch’s students. He’s a teacher. Sometimes one of the kids will draw him something, and he’s a sweetie, so he can’t stand to put them away where nobody can see them. Well, except the one where the girl drew them getting married.” She snickered.

“That didn’t bother you?” I asked.

She waved a hand through the air. “What’s a seven-year-old going to do, steal my husband? No, I thought it was kind of sweet, really, and if kids grow up thinking they deserve a partner like him, that’s a good thing in my book. Though he did have to have a talk with her and her parents, just to clear things up. I don’t think I’ve ever seen him so flustered.”

“Sounds like a sweet guy.”

The smile on her face softened then. “He is.”

Two tiny syllables, and it was still enough to tell that she was completely in love with him.

“Now that coffee’s taken care of, danishes? They’re in the other room.” She spun to lead me back into the living room and dropped down on the couch, swinging one leg over the other and picking up a danish with nothing more than a napkin and her hand, even though she’d set out little plates already.

Mom would havedied, but I liked it, and did the same. No use dirtying a plate when I had every intention of devouring the thing on the spot.

Weirdly, that seemed to get her approval.

“So I hear you’re here working on a story about the Condition? Why single out the Grove pack for that?”

I shrugged. “A lot of it’s proximity. Working in DC, a trip to Virginia’s not that much of an ask. Some, that you all do seem to be handling it pretty well.”

“Surely we can’t be the only pack to be doing okay? I mean, we’ve still been affected by it.”

---