Page 22 of Howling Mad
A comfortable silence falls, the park hushed except for rustling leaves and distant traffic.Moonlight catches faint silver in her hair, and I push away my father’s voice muttering about moonstruck nonsense.“Mind sitting?”I ask.
She nods, settling beside me, her posture still a bit tense.Her scent drifts over, accelerating my pulse, but I keep my voice steady.“Thanks for coming.I half-expected you to hide out.”
“I almost did,” she says, her smile wry.“But I owed you…something.Not just stammering at the restaurant.”
“If you’re apologizing for caring, don’t,” I say.“I’m grateful you tried, even if it ended in topiary carnage.”
She snorts, her laugh bright.“Topiary carnage.That’s the perfect name for it.”
We fall quiet, watching the moon’s reflection ripple in the pond, her brow gathered with unspoken thoughts.I clear my throat.“Thanks for defending me.Talia’s not the first to say I’m not wolf enough.”
She sets the twig on the bench, her voice firm.“She was out of line.You deserve better than that.”
Her kindness melts my tension.“It’s hard, juggling human finance and pack traditions.”
She nods, her eyes curious.“Straddling two worlds, right?”
“Exactly,” I say, opening up.“I thought I could ace it.Master’s degree and a city job, but wolves call me domesticated, and humans call me savage.It gets lonely.”
“I get it,” she says softly.“My pack pushed matches like I was livestock.The city was my escape, and Red’s agency gave me a purpose.Helping misfits like us find love.”
I chuckle.“Misfits.That fits me, too.Talia was never going to get it.”
Her nose scrunches.“Nope.She’s all pack ideals despite her sophisticated veneer.You need someone who sees all your layers.”
I nod.“You get me.”
She blushes, and we sit in shared understanding, the silence easy.The breeze turns colder, and she shivers in her thin jacket.I shrug off mine, offering it wordlessly.She slides it on, the sleeves swallowing her hands, and flashes a grateful smile.“Thanks.I didn’t plan for arctic vibes.”
My stomach flutters, and I look away to hide it, focusing on the pond.“Want to walk?Might warm us up.”
“Definitely,” she says, perking up.
We rise, strolling along a winding path, lamplight casting soft pools on the pavement.She scans for rogue topiaries, and I smother a grin at her jumpiness.“Full moon soon?”she asks, tilting her head skyward.
“Tomorrow, I think,” I say.“Talia’s drama drowned out the usual itch.”
She laughs.My phone buzzes, but I ignore it, tethered to this moment.She points across the street.“Ice cream?That shop’s still open.”
I raise an eyebrow.“It’s freezing out here.”
“My wolf’s quirky,” she says, shrugging.“They’ve got cardamom honey with chocolate chunks.That’s heavenly.”
I stop short.“That’s my favorite.Everyone thinks I’m insane for liking it.”
Her eyes widen.“No way.My mom says it tastes like potpourri.”
We burst out laughing, crossing to the shop.The staff’s friendly, letting us pick since they’re closing soon.We both order cardamom honey.The first bite—sweet, tangy, and with a bitter chocolate kick—makes me groan in delight.
Finley giggles, her eyes rolling as she tries hers.“My taste buds are throwing a party.”
We settle at a window table, streetlights glowing outside.“Same weird flavor?”I say.“That’s suspicious.”
“Maybe it’s why we’re misfits,” she says, waving her spoon.“Wolves with odd ice cream cravings.”
I chuckle, imagining Dad’s horror.“My father would insist real wolves eat raw venison.”
Her expression softens.“Is he tough on you?”
