Page 7 of Shift Happens
“I’ll leave some clothes out,” I said, feeling my own face heat up. “And I’ll, uh, give you privacy.”
I set out a t-shirt and sweatpants that would swallow his small frame but were better than nothing, then retreated to my bedroom. Through the door, I called, “Just knock when you’re… you know, human again. If you want to talk. Or not. No pressure.”
I sat on my bed, staring at the wall, trying to make sense of the last hour.
My employee is a werewolf. An actual, literal werewolf. With fur and paws and everything.
I started laughing, quiet at first, then louder until I was doubled over. The absurdity of it all was too much. All the strange comments, his heightened senses, the clumsiness as he adjusted to human form, his insistence on time off during the full moon—it all made perfect, ridiculous sense.
Eventually, my laughter subsided, replaced by genuine curiosity and concern. Why was he alone during a full moon? Was he in some kind of trouble? And why had he sought out my store specifically?
I must have dozed off waiting, because a gentle knock startled me awake. The digital clock read 3:17 AM.
“Finn?” Milo’s voice was hoarse. “Can I come in?”
“Yeah, of course,” I called back, sitting up and turning on the bedside lamp.
The door opened slowly, revealing Milo in my oversized clothes, looking small and vulnerable. The t-shirt hung off one shoulder, and he’d had to roll the sweatpants up multiple times to avoid tripping. His hair was even more chaotic than usual, and there were shadows under his eyes.
“So,” he said softly, hovering in the doorway. “That happened.”
“You’re a werewolf,” I stated flatly.
He winced. “We prefer ‘shifter’ actually. ‘Werewolf’ has some negative Hollywood connotations.”
“You’re a wolf shifter,” I corrected. “Who works in my comic book store.”
“Yes.” He twisted the hem of the t-shirt nervously. “Are you going to fire me?”
That was the last question I expected. “Fire you? For being a… shifter?”
“Some humans don’t like knowing,” he explained, eyes downcast. “Makes them uncomfortable. Scared.”
“I’m not scared,” I said, realizing it was true. “Confused, yes. Kind of impressed, actually. But not scared.”
He looked up, hope crossing his features. “Really?”
“Really. Though I do have about a thousand questions.”
A small smile tugged at his lips. “I figured.”
I patted the edge of the bed. “Sit? If you want to.”
He hesitated, then padded over and perched on the corner of the mattress, keeping a careful distance.
“Why were you in the alley?” I asked.
“I was supposed to be with my pack,” he explained. “But I got separated during the initial shift. It happens sometimes—you get disoriented, sounds and smells are overwhelming. I recognized your store’s scent and came here, but then the storm started.” He shuddered. “I hate thunderstorms. They’re so much louder when you have wolf hearing.”
“Is that why you were hurt?”
He nodded. “Panicked and stepped on something sharp. It’s nothing serious.”
“So there’s a whole pack of you?” I asked, trying to imagine a group of wolves roaming the outskirts of town.
“Yes, about thirty in our group. We have territory in the national forest.” He smiled slightly. “We’re very environmentally conscious. Excellent recyclers.”
I chuckled. “Good to know. So… you mentioned training your human side. I’m guessing you haven’t spent much time as a human?”
