Page 50 of Rejected Exile

As we grab the shovels and potting soil from the front porch, Cat pokes her head out the door. "Do you two need anything—lemonade, maybe, or some scones?"

I shoot her a suspicious look, wondering if she's up to something. "You could do my laundry. I've run out of clothes to do handiwork in—all I had left today is a white T-shirt, and it's going to show every single speck of dirt."

"I'll get right on it!" Her voice is way too cheery for me. Something is up. "Anything else?"

"You've been very helpful, Cat," Lance says magnanimously, not mentioning all the times she's lazily ordered us about instead of stepping in to help. "I really appreciated the breakfast this morning. And the fresh coffee. I'm sure lunch will be delicious too."

"Oh, Lance—you'll have me blushing!" Or scheming, more like it. "Just shout if you need anything."

As she disappears into the house I call out, "Laundry!"

"On it!"

Lance shoots me an amused look. "She's quite the character, isn't she?"

"Cat? She's a character and then some. But I appreciate it." Grabbing a tray full of seedlings, I carefully walk them down the front steps of the newly repaired porch. "One of the wonderful things she taught me is how to survive."

Lance is quiet for a long moment, following behind me with two heavy bags of potting soil. "I'm sure that skill came in handy out in the human world."

"It did. Without her I don't know where I would be right now."

"There's something I've wanted to ask you."

I glance up at him as we set out supplies down in a part of the yard that's been cleared out for gardening—courtesy of Kieran, who I'm trying not to think of right now.

Lance clears his throat. "It's kind of a sensitive question, but..."

"What is it?"

"I've heard that you're going to stay in town. Is that true?"

His eyes, such a warm honey brown, study me as I stand up, brush my hands off and face him.

"It is," I acknowledge, "but I don't think that'ssensitive,unless you wanted to ask something else."

"Are you sure that you should?" As soon as he says it, Lance winces, as if embarrassed by his bluntness. "It's just, with the curse—we never know what might happen next."

"It affects women who shift," I tell him, straightening my back to face him and trying to ignore the tickle of doubt in my chest. "I don't plan on shifting. Ergo, I should be safe."

"Hopefully. And obviously, you're more than welcome to stay in your father's house as long as you want or need. It's just that—well, if I had a nice life outside this place, I would probably go back to it."

"You'd leave Glass Pack?"

"I'd leave pack territory entirely," Lance says bluntly. "If I knew there was somewhere out there where I could fit in."

His words stun me more than a little. I'd never considered thatanywerewolf might want to leave pack territory. From the time we're little, we're raised to revere and protect the separate life we've carved out for ourselves. Our land protects us, and we feed it with our interconnected bonds. That's our culture, our way of life—the thought of leaving it behindwillinglyis hard to understand.

Studying my face, Lance observes, "I'm guessing you feel differently."

"I do," I admit. "And to be honest, I didn't think I would stick around. That was before I found out that... well, I don't entirely understand it yet, but—"

Before I can even find the words to confess the chip in my neck to him, it suddenly starts raining out of nowhere. Jumping back, I shut my eyes and hold up my hands to keep water out of my face—and immediately realize that the sprinklers have gone off.

It's not raining; water issprayingat us from every direction. Lance takes a step back too, getting out of the direct spray of a particularly active sprinkler head. Before we can find dry land, though, more and more water jets out of the sprinklers, until the arc of their spray overlaps everywhere.

"Everything is wet!" Lance shouts, wiping water out of his eyes helplessly.

"It is." I grab my wet ponytail and squeeze it out, laughing back at him. "Guess we might as well just let it happen."

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