The Things We Water

“You both look like… how do I say this? S-h-i-t. You both look like s-h-i-t,” I pretty much giggled in front of Sienna and Matti the next morning.

There were few things better than being right.

And even fewer than when you could be smug about it.

Duncan had already been awake for close to an hour by the time we’d left our room to find out why his second and third favorite people weren’t texting us back. By that point, I’d been awake for almost two hours. I’d woken up feeling off, groggy and flustered, like there was something I should’ve remembered that had happened in the middle of the night, but I had no idea why.

I hadn’t dreamt. I went years between dreams. So long, I forgot their details but not the way they’d all made me feel, or what the voice that talked to me in them each time sounded like. It made no sense, and the problem was that no one I’d ever spoken to about it had ever really believed me when I said I didn’t dream to begin with. They all thought I just couldn’t remember them.

That wasn’t the case.

Whatever had happened overnight, I’d woken up earlier than normal, unable to shake off the imaginary spiderwebs that left me feeling off. Once I gave up trying to go back to sleep, I tried making a plan for all the small things I needed to figure out sooner rather than later while Duncan chainsawed it up beside me. Then I’d showered again, even though I’d done it last night after we’d come back inside. I used the unscented soap I always washed with, so used to limiting my scents around sensitive noses for most of my life.

Then we’d gone to pee, and finally went looking for these two, only to find them on their death bed.

Sienna groaned from her spot beneath the covers, next to Matti who had his arm thrown over his eyes as he made the same sound. “We both had loose stomachs. You didn’t?” she moaned.

“No, but I told you not to buy those hot dogs at the gas station, didn’t I? And didn’t you tell me, ‘We never get sick, Nina. I’ve got an iron stomach,’” I reminded her with a tone that got me two middle fingers. I laughed and leaned against the doorframe. “You guys are gas station noobs. You never eat the hot dogs or get the nachos,” I reminded them of the exact words I’d used at the time.

“Shut up, Nina,” Matti muttered, lifting his arm just enough to give me a peek of a dull eye. “I feel like my ass gave birth to two ten-pound babies.”

I snickered, and even Sienna snorted before moaning. “Don’t,” she got out in between her own pained sound effects.

“Yeah, Matti, don’t make her laugh. She doesn’t need to shart in someone else’s bed. I’m trying to make a good impression here.”

He groaned at the same time as she grabbed a throw pillow from the floor and tried to chuck it at me. It hit the floor between the bed and bedroom door. They really were sick to be that weak.

“Want me to bring you anything?” I asked them, deciding to be nice.

Their responses came in the form of more groans, which I took as a “no.” From the glasses of water next to their nightstands, I knew they weren’t going to get dehydrated. I should probably bring them some salt from my camper to replenish their electrolytes.

I’m turning into a mom, I realized right then.

I peeked down at the calm puppy sitting next to my right foot and smiled. His tail was wagging, the flame on it small and dark blue. He’d rolled over once in the middle of the night, he’d slept so good.

“All right, we’re going to figure out breakfast. Henri said to be down there at….”

They weren’t listening. Or maybe they couldn’t hear me over their groans.

“I have my cell. Let me know if you need something, okay? I’ll wipe Sienna’s butt, but I’m not wiping yours, Matti, until you’re at least in your seventies,” I told them before backing out of the room as another throw pillow went flying through the air. “Love you, guys,” I called out, shutting the door of their room before making eye contact with my donut. “Well, Dunky, I didn’t want to go downstairs by ourselves, but we’ve got no choice. Might as well get used to it. At least we have each other.”

He tilted his head, his “yes”a reminder that we were in this together.

We had changed tires in the worst conditions of every season, we’d come across brown bears on hikes, and we’d been stranded in the middle of nowhere once or twice overnight.

Duncan and I had been through some stuff.

Neither one of us might have been cowboys, but this wasn’t our first rodeo, and we were a team.

Team Duncan Donut.

We were going to have to acclimate eventually and meet people without Matti and Sienna. That part was non-negotiable. So, with my boy by my side, we headed downstairs. There were sounds coming from every direction. I hadn’t asked how they handled the whole eating situation with the people that lived here. Last night, the four of us had dinner in my trailer while we’d grabbed our bags. The elder with the glasses, Franklin, had been vague about how many people lived in this building. Did they all share food? Did everyone buy their own groceries and put names and labels on their things? I had questions. The only people I’d ever lived with were my parents and Sienna.

“Good morning, Nina and Duncan.”

I turned in the direction the voice was coming from. Down the hall, the elder who gave us a tour yesterday dipped his head in greeting. I lifted my hand. “Good morning.”

It was clear from the absence of puffy facial features that Franklin had been awake for some time. In a button-down shirt with a maroon vest over it, tucked into khaki pants, his glasses riding low on his nose, he made me think of a librarian. He looked so… disarming.

For some reason, I didn’t trust that impression.

And I noted again, like I had confirmed during our tour yesterday, that I couldn’t sense his magic.

I was confident I’d seen a bracelet on his wrist. His long sleeves hid any trace of one at the moment too. What was he? Would Henri tell me what he was if I asked?

“Was your room comfortable?” the elder asked.

“Yes. It’s perfect, thank you.”

His nod was a little stiff, at least I thought so. “I’ll escort you to the kitchen. Henri is making eggs, and it’s a real treat when it’s his turn to cook for us.”

I could not make a face at the idea of mountain man Henri making eggs for more than just himself. So I pressed my lips together and nodded. “That sounds great.”

The older man waited for us outside a cracked door—with a smaller doggy door at the bottom—that a quick peek inside confirmed was a bedroom. His, I imagined. The only thing visible was a sliver of a bed a little bigger than a twin, and it was made. Franklin smiled when Duncan stopped at his feet. The older man reached down to scratch the top of his head. “How did the handsome boy sleep?”

The handsome boy stretched up to bump his nose against the man’s hand in his own answer.

He couldn’t be so bad if my boy was being affectionate, could he?

Plus, I was a sucker for Duncan compliments. He might seem suspicious, but he had good taste. “Great. He didn’t want to get out of bed this morning.” He’d slept across my chest for half of the night, and I’d barely been able to breathe, but I was never, ever going to complain about it.

Franklin nodded before gesturing for me to follow him to where he’d explained yesterday the kitchen was located. When we had gotten thirsty last night, we’d gone to my trailer and gotten water from the five-gallon jugs I refilled at grocery stores instead of wandering around. I wasn’t shy, but I hadn’t been ready to treat this place like home so soon.

“Do you have questions?” The elder turned to me. “We went over things quickly yesterday.”

That was a relief. “I was actually just wondering right now… how many people live in this building?”

“Three of the elders call the clubhouse home, myself included. We’re all on the first floor, along the hallway there where you found me. The others are both offsite at the moment, visiting their families. One of the children also has a bedroom by ours.” He hadn’t mentioned that last night. “On the third level, there are two unmated members of the community who either choose not to live with their family members or don’t have that option.”

I felt that comment in my soul.

“The homes we have on the property are reserved for members with family units.”

“What counts as a family unit?” I asked.

“An adult and a child, or a married couple. Two or more constitutes a family,” he replied. “You and Duncan would after your trial period.”

We got to the end of another hallway, the smell of cooked meat getting stronger the closer we got.

Duncan even sped up to a trot, his nose tipped up high, his tail sticking straight up in the air. He almost looked like he was prancing.

I slipped my phone out of my pocket a little and snapped a picture of him.

Franklin kept talking. “Since there aren’t many of us, we set up a meal schedule for breakfast and dinner. It’s more convenient, so we aren’t stepping all over each other and there aren’t arguments about cleaning pots and pans.”

I nodded, listening… but also keeping an eye on Prancer over here. His ears were so long they were inches from dragging along the floor. It was so precious.

Even more adorable was the way I could faintly hear him saying, “Yes, yes, yes, yes,” in excitement from whatever he smelled that he was thrilled about.

“There’s a monthly calendar in the pantry where you can sign up to make breakfast or dinner when you can, along with what meal you’re preparing. Our only request is that you decide twenty-four hours in advance. If someone doesn’t want to eat it, they don’t. We understand sometimes someone is busier than normal, so we don’t have a minimum or a limit on how many times you do it as long as you do. Be fair about it, that’s all we ask. Some days, everyone is on their own.” Brownish-greenish eyes met mine. “Will that be an issue?”

“No. I like cooking,” I confirmed, pondering over their schedule. “Are we in charge of paying for groceries ourselves or does everyone pool money together?” I made enough to live off without sweating small extra expenses too bad, but feeding other adults? Especially carnivores?

I didn’t make enough for that.

Franklin looked startled. He pushed his glasses up his nose. “The community fund pays for the groceries for all residents. We have a shipment from a grocer supply that delivers food once a week. If you want something that isn’t included in the staples, you’re responsible for purchasing it yourself.”

“There’s a community fund? And it pays for groceries?” I asked just as we made it to the doorway that led into a spacious kitchen.

The room was the size of a commercial kitchen, yet still homey. Dark cabinets framed most of the walls, there were two giant islands, and at least four built-in ovens visible from where we stood. A big two-door stainless steel fridge took up another wall, and there was another steel door off to the side that reminded me of the kind of walk-in refrigerators I’d seen in restaurants.

But most astounding of all was the man at the multi-burner range, a spatula in one hand, a white wolf puppy at his feet.

“…revenues from the community’s businesses pay for certain things. What I mean when I say grocery staples are meats mostly, but also breads, some dairy, fruits, and vegetables. If you’re looking for rare French cheese, that would be your financial responsibility.”

Dang it, I’d missed part of what he’d said. I’d been too focused on Henri’s back, taking him in as he’d turned while the elder spoke. He had a green flannel shirt tucked into jeans, his hair damp from a shower. He’d shaved since last night.

Smooth skin looked good on him too.

“Morning, Henri,” Franklin greeted him. “Smells delicious.”

“Cheesy omelets,” the werewolf explained. His gaze flicked in my direction. “Morning,” he greeted us. So polite.

I smiled. “Morning, Henri. Hi, Agnes.”

The white puppy had angled her body to the side, keeping an eye on us. I bent down and picked up Duncan to show him to her, even though she would’ve already smelled him by that point. Both of their ears perked. Setting him down, I watched as Franklin headed to the double-door refrigerator and pulled out a container of orange juice that he held up. “Nina?”

“Yes, please.”

“Water for the… oh, he found it,” Franklin trailed off at the exact second the sound of slurping reached me, and I leaned over to find two bowls of water—one ceramic, the other stainless steel—on the floor. Duncan was drinking from the ceramic one. “We wash those throughout the day. If you see it dirty, please clean it.”

At the stove, Henri asked over his shoulder, “Is he a picky eater?”

I couldn’t help but shiver a little. “No. He just stopped trying to eat dead animals a week ago.” A gag built up in my throat at the memory of the things I’d pulled out of his mouth. Part of me had figured that he wouldn’t get sick from it—I remembered Matti eating all kinds of messed-up stuff when we’d been kids and he’d been in wolf form passing as a puppy—but I hadn’t wanted to get too crazy, at least until he built up a better immune system.

Henri nodded before turning and pulling two textured silicone mats out of a drawer. Then my mouth dropped open as he pulled container after container out of the fridge, along with a short can. The man who had drawn my face to his neck hours ago spread out small, spotted eggs with the shell, a variety of thawed meats, and then sardines from the can on the mats, pushing the food into the grooves with the bottom of a fork. I had to lean over the side of the counter again to see that Duncan and Agnes had made their way over and were sitting at his feet, eager expressions on both their puppy faces.

And here Duncan had been growling at him a few hours ago. I had to hold back a laugh.

“Is this fine for breakfast?” Henri asked with his back still to us as Franklin handed me a glass of juice.

“Perfect,” I told him, a lot breathier than normal, mostly in pleasure and surprise at what he was feeding them. It was almost an exact replica of what I gave Duncan for breakfast. It made my chest feel a little funny.

“Is there a problem?” Franklin asked as he took the seat beside me.

“No.” Which was the truth, but honesty was the best policy. “It’s just that I’ve been worried I’m not feeding him what he biologically needs. I feel a lot better now seeing that what I’ve been giving him isn’t that different from what you all think it should be.” Not that they even knew for a fact what he needed exactly, but I trusted them more than myself. I had just been going off what a nutritionist recommended for his weight.

The older man patted my back kind of awkwardly, or maybe reluctantly. I wasn’t sure how old Franklin might have been. He could’ve been an older-looking fifty or anywhere up to eighty. His glasses gave him a grandpa vibe, but there was something else about him that just didn’t come across very elderly to me.

Or maybe I was being distrustful because of that bracelet under his sleeve.

“He’s in good health. You’ve done a fine job with him, Nina. He’s happy and healthy, and your bond seems strong. All those things matter. You can feed a child a healthy diet, but if it’s in an atmosphere without love and safety, that can be just as harmful to them as poor dietary choices.”

“Thank you.” I smiled at him, thinking his words over and seeing the truth in them.

He nodded, peering into my eyes carefully like he was looking for something. With a smile I thought was a little stiff, he dropped his hand. “I have existing commitments after breakfast, but we’ll discuss the pup soon,” he offered. “I’m going to begin looking into the matter of his possible heritage and get back to you once I have any information.”

I wondered. Oh, did I freaking wonder. But we had waited this long for an answer. What was a little more time? “Thank you, Franklin,” I said just as a plate was set down in front of him.

“I don’t know what you eat, so serve yourself,” Henri’s husky voice explained as he met my gaze briefly before heading back to the range.

Had his eyes gotten prettier or was I imagining it? “Thank you.”

“The calendar to sign up for meals is through there.” Henri pointed toward the regular-looking door in the far corner of the huge kitchen beside what I was sure was a walk-in fridge.

Someone had overheard our conversation.

“I’ll check it out,” I said as I got up and headed to where he was busy piling food onto a cream-colored plate with flowers painted on it that were almost identical to the vintage ones my parents used to have. Duncan spared me a quick glance before his attention went right back to the counter where his breakfast was waiting.

I was going to need to get used to it not just being us from here on out. Every morning was going to be like this if we were going to be living in this building for at least a few months. Who knew how things would change after that? I couldn’t be sad about it, about sharing him, about mourning the life we’d had, going to new places, eating breakfast braless, doing whatever we wanted around my work schedule.

Nothing ever stayed the same, and he needed to be safe.

We would start a new routine here. Build new habits. Make a different life.

More than anything, I needed to set a good example. He didn’t need to sense my grief over our previous life and be confused over it. How could I expect him to move forward if I couldn’t?

I picked up a plate from the stack and waited until Henri had moved aside to get my own servings, resignation and determination steeling my body and brain. Laid out like a buffet were the cheesy omelets he’d mentioned, along with bacon, some kind of hamburger patties, and a pot of what I was pretty sure were grits. That part was a surprise because every werewolf I’d ever known rarely ate anything other than meat, fish, and high-fat foods like avocados, butter, and small amounts of cheese. Fruit was tolerable—fruit juices were always welcome. Complex carbs like pasta or bread were rarely eaten. Maybe they’d tackle a plain potato or a couple fries.

“You don’t like grits?” that grumbly voice asked.

I snuck another peek at Henri.

His features were so different from Matti’s that it was hard to see their resemblance.

Their jaws and cheekbones were different shapes, their eye colors were also not the same; their builds were muscular yet complete opposites. The only similarity they had in common physically was that they were both tall. They were like day and night, on the inside and the outside.

Matti was big for a wolf in that form, thanks to his Amarok ancestry, but he looked like a scrawny teenager compared to Henri—not that I would ever tell him that.

“No, I like grits,” I told him. “I was just surprised to see them. Before I came down, I’d been thinking about how I’d need to squeeze some fiber in during my lunch from here on out.” I beamed. “Thank you for making them.”

His jaw flexed, but he dipped his chin.

“I should have mentioned that everyone that lives here is mainly a carnivore,” Franklin piped in, breaking my concentration from the man that I shouldn’t have been so aware of. “For meal-planning purposes.”

“It’s okay, my parents are both wolves in their magical forms. I’m used to it,” I told the older man.

His gaze narrowed, just for a split second, before he pasted a small, tight smile on his mouth as he nodded. “I see.” Franklin’s attention flicked down to his plate for a moment before he asked, “If you’d like oatmeal… don’t we have some instant oats for the children, Henri?”

“We do,” Fluffy answered, setting his plate on the counter before moving around me. He picked up one mat and set it against the wall closest to the walk-in refrigerator.

Agnes didn’t move, but Duncan’s tail swayed.

Apparently, my donut wasn’t worried about Henri for the time being. Was it the fact he was making food? Or had what happened last night chilled him out?

Henri went for the other mat and placed it a foot away from the first one. “Agnes and Duncan, you can eat now.” One white fluffball and a black one darted toward their breakfasts, no hesitation.

“You said he’s two years old?” my best friend’s cousin asked, watching the pups inhale their meal.

“He is. Two years and a couple months.” Dunky was acting like he hadn’t eaten in a week.

“He has good self-control for his age,” Henri noted in a thoughtful voice.

Of course he did. That comment made me way too smug, but I tried to be humble and say, “He’s a very good boy. How old is Agnes?”

“Eight,” Franklin answered.

Sienna had said Henri didn’t have a mate, but….

No, she wasn’t his. Matti would’ve said something by now.

Come to think of it, unlike Shiloh and Pascal, she hadn’t had angry parents or guardians come out after we’d gotten back to the community yesterday. Henri had told her to get her punishment from the elders. What was her parental situation? Was she the child who lived here? I decided I’d have to ask about it later. Definitely not in front of her. She seemed to be interested in Duncan, but I was pretty sure she’d flashed a canine at me when I’d been walking around her to get my breakfast. A part of me admired her for it.

She was a smart kid, already knowing you couldn’t trust everyone that came into your life.

Most of us took a lot longer to learn that lesson.

I had barely finished eating when the elder pushed his stool back. “I need to get going.” He dusted his hands off before pushing his glasses up his nose. His whole demeanor seemed so uptight, his smile at me forced. “Young lady, I leave you in good hands.”

Whose hands?

The older man peered over at Henri. “Before I leave, Henri, what’s going on? You’ve been surlier than normal this morning.”

Henri, who had been sitting quietly while we ate at the island, grunted without looking away from his plate. “I’m fine.”

From his narrowed gaze, I’d say Franklin didn’t believe him, and neither did I. “Is it…?” He trailed off, whatever he was implying hung in the air, a mystery I didn’t understand.

But I wanted to.

“No,” Henri answered tersely, clearly not wanting to talk about whatever was on his mind.

Deciding to be nice, I threw him a bone. I wanted us to be friends, and friends were always allies. “He’s probably mad at me because I bit him,” I offered as an explanation.

Two sets of eyeballs swung over in my direction.noveldrama

Henri’s forehead furrowed. “I’m not mad because you….”

I smiled.

The grooves between his eyebrows got even deeper. “You’re fucking with me?”

It was like he couldn’t believe it.

I held my thumb and index finger apart about an inch. “Little bit.” But that confirmed it, he was in a mood over something.

He tipped his head to the side.

I was pretty sure that might have been his amused face, at least one of them. Or it might be wishful thinking.

“I don’t understand what you’re talking about.” Franklin frowned before shaking his head. “I will take that as my cue to leave. Nina, if you think of any more questions, I can answer them later if Henri is unable to. I will see you both this evening,” he finished quickly before exiting the kitchen like he was in a rush, his hands in his pockets while he left. Franklin had even left his plate on the counter.

Maybe he was running late somewhere, but… something still seemed fishy about him.

Real fishy.

“Is he okay?” I asked, even though I really wanted to know if he was always like that, but that sounded aggressive in my head.

He pushed his chair back. “He was fine to me.”

If he said so.

Standing up, I shoved my stool back and picked up my plate, along with Franklin’s, and went around to where the pups had eaten their food and collected their lick mats too.

“We have two dishwashers. You can load those plates instead of doing them by hand. It saves water consumption,” Henri explained as he pushed his stool in. He’d been awfully quiet while we’d eaten; all three of us had been.

Both Agnes and Duncan had wandered over to sit by us after they’d finished their meal and drank more water. Duncan was curled up into a little ball, watching the white puppy.

Just as I set the dishes into the sink, Henri came up beside me. I tipped my head back to meet his eyes. “You can put the mats into the dishwasher too. I’ll put the leftovers in the fridge, and you can load the pot into the dishwasher.”

I could do that.

Halfway through loading the dishwasher, he asked from behind, “Where are Matti and his mate?”

I’d been waiting for someone to ask. “They’re upstairs.” There was no reason I couldn’t give him specifics. “They’ve got the brown plague.”

“The brown….” He went quiet, figuring it out.

I couldn’t help but snicker, thinking about them. “They both looked about ten pounds lighter than they did last night, so I think that gives you an idea of how⁠—”

Henri cleared his throat. “I understand.”

I bet he didn’t, but it made me want to shake my head picturing how sick they’d looked. They had been so confident about those hot dogs. And with their noses? I didn’t understand how they hadn’t been able to tell there was something wrong with them.

“When we’re done, I’ll give you a tour so you can get familiar with the grounds.”

“All right.” I stuck the skillet I’d handwashed, because it was too large for the dishwasher, under the faucet. “Just us?”

There was a pause. “Is that a problem?”

I made a face as I flipped the pan and rinsed the other side. “No, why would it be?” I turned off the water and peeked over my shoulder. He must have sensed me staring at his back because he slowly did the same and blinked at me. I lifted my chin. “You all right? It was only a question.”

He turned back toward the range. “Fine,” he answered, back to using clipped answers.

All right then.

When I was done with the dishes, I picked up Duncan, and Henri bent to pet Agnes, and I followed him down the hallway we had taken to get to the kitchen. His voice was loud enough for me to hear clearly, the white wolf beside him, looking so small in comparison. “Did someone explain our early school situation?”

“Franklin mentioned a nursery during our tour yesterday….”

Agnes’s yellow eyes peered at us, not slowing down one bit while she did. I wiggled my fingers at her with the hand not supporting the majority of Duncan’s weight. She flashed me both her canines.

“It is and it isn’t a nursery. All the pups who are old enough to be away from their mothers attend it. Some of the parents refer to it more as preschool for the small ones until they’re old enough to attend school,” he explained.

“Some of the kids go to school? In town?”

“Most. A few are homeschooled or take online courses. We don’t have enough children or qualified educators to offer classes on site,” Henri went on. “We provide after-school supervision until six in the evening for the kids whose parents can’t pick them up, but it’s never a problem to find someone to keep an eye on a child if they don’t make it by then. Most of the kids go home with someone after school.”

Even I knew that daycare was something highly sought after.

“The kids are usually split into two age groups—the young ones, and the ones who are only around after school—but the member who used to care for the older children is on a leave of absence to care for his mother. For now, through the summer, they’re mixed together until we can find someone else to take over the position.”

We passed by the door that Franklin had been standing in front of when Duncan and I had come downstairs. It was closed now. Every door had a small doggy door.I hadn’t noticed that until now. It wasn’t only his.

I focused on the bundle in my arms. He was relaxed, curious, and very awake. I pulled him in a little tighter to me. “That’s a great option⁠—”

“It’s not an option.”

I focused on the back of Henri’s head, his hair was shorter around the sides and longer at the top, like he cared but didn’t really want to put in too much effort either. It was a good haircut for him. “All right. But do you think we should wait a couple of days until he settles in since we just got here?”

Henri had the nerve to glance over his shoulder, his dark eyebrows arching slightly as he took in the puppy in my arms. “He looks settled to me.”

I waited to bite the inside of my cheek again until he was facing forward. “I think he’s doing great so far, but it hasn’t even been a day⁠—”

He cut me off. “He’ll be fine.”

I could not growl at a werewolf, especially one that looked almost nothing like every other one I’d ever met—size-wise. I had questions about that, but none of them I could ask in this building or without soundproof walls. I reminded myself that I didn’t need to argue with Henri. We had to get along. I wanted to be his friend. “I don’t want to stress him out or make him think he’s being abandoned….”

We passed by the front door and headed toward the faint sounds of what had to be little kids.

I started to get a little nervous. “How about tomorrow?”

Henri stopped right in front of a door halfway down the hall. Like every other one we’d gone by, this one also had a puppy-sized mini door at the bottom. The only difference was that it was twice the size of the rest of them.

The serious man gave me an even more grave expression. “He’ll be fine,” he insisted.

I pressed my lips together, trying to stop myself from arguing with him again. I was trying to stay on his good side, dang it.

“He isn’t nervous or scared, and you said he understands what we say, so there’s no reason why he’d think you aren’t coming back for him.” His eyes moved to my chest area. “You understand what’s happening, don’t you, Duncan?”

Only I heard the “Yes”he projected.

There went my last hope. He’d been sitting here overhearing our conversation and hadn’t made a peep to disagree about his nursery attendance. I guess he didn’t mind…?

I barely managed to hold back a frown. “He agreed,” I admitted, knowing dang well how glum that statement came out. I looked at my sweetheart and only lowered my voice a little bit. “I guess you’re staying, Donut.”

“Yes,” Duncan agreed, making me sigh. How could he be this mature already?

I hugged him two more times, and he gave my chin and cheek the same number of licks.

A throat cleared. “When you’re done, let’s take him inside.”

Just like that, it felt like I’d swallowed a bag full of Warheads, and I would’ve been surprised if my face didn’t reflect it.

If he felt any compassion for me leaving Duncan for the first time, it sure didn’t reflect on Henri’s face.

It wasn’t that I hadn’t believed him when he said the nursery was mandatory or that Duncan would more than likely be fine being away from me, but….

I had hoped that he would change his mind. I swallowed and clung to my donut tighter. How could he expect me to just drop him off?

There was a sigh, and I wasn’t sure I imagined that Henri’s voice might have gone slightly softer. “This’ll be good for him. This environment promotes socialization, the strengthening of pack bonds, emotional maturity⁠—”

The beginning of the end of him being my baby.

I suddenly understood why parents cried when they dropped their kids off at school.

Duncan had needed me for almost everything the last two years. He relied on me, and the truth was, I relied on him too. He was my shadow. My ride or die. The cilantro and lime to my carne asada tacos.

A knot formed in my throat, and it took everything in me to exhale. It came out strained. This is what we were signing up for, for him to be safe.

Even knowing all that, it really didn’t help.

“Yeah, I get it.” My voice was small. I didn’t want to get it, but….

“Love.”

I peeked at Duncan’s face. He was sitting up in my arms, watching me, but his nose was busy twitching as he smelled what, or more likely who, was in the room.

Being here period was the end of a lot of things, but it could be the start of something new too.

The start of my heart breaking….Stop, Nina.

Lifting my gaze to meet Henri’s, it took more effort than I ever would have imagined to keep the grief from my tone. “If he doesn’t want to go in or he starts crying….” I threatened as the tank of a man watched me for a moment, then turned toward the door and pushed it open, slipping inside.

I could have used a hug or another word of reassurance. Even a nudge, but all right. Fine.

I could do this.

I barely got a chance to see Henri crouch through the window before the puppy in my arms started trying to lunge out of them.

Here I was, on the verge of crying, feeling so guilty for leaving him, and he wasditching me?

I dropped to a squat just as he wiggled out of my grasp, darting through the mini door to get into the room, leaving me standing there with my mouth open. I could not believe him.

A little bit of jealousy and disappointment that he’d left me that fast—at the first opportunity!—made my heart hurt for maybe two seconds total. But the sound of his familiar, playful bark reversed it almost as quickly. This was what I wanted for him. To be happy. To have people other than just me and our occasional visits to Sienna and Matti’s.

I gulped.

My time of living apart, of being so solitary, was over—as long as we made it through the next three months.

Someone told me once that life was 10 percent of the things that happened in it, and 90 percent how you handled those things.

Now, I had to figure out how to handle this next chapter. If that had to be with my head held high, my heart open, and maybe a little teary-eyed, so be it. For Duncan, I’d manage.

Moving toward the door, I pushed it and went straight to stand beside Henri. He hadn’t gone very far into the brightly lit classroom with lots of windows. Scattered around it were small beings of various heights. Most of the kids were human, looking between the ages of big toddler and elementary-school sized. Agnes was greeting the teacher, and Duncan was sniffing a small boy who was already scratching his ears, grinning wide.

Very, very slowly, I released a long breath as the woman who Agnes had been by made her way over.

She was very nice; she shook my hand and assured me that Duncan was going to be just fine, or something like that. Everything went in one ear and out the other. She might have said I smelled like a stinky dumpster, and I would have had no idea because I was trying so hard not to cry that I gritted my teeth and nodded a lot.

I didn’t think I was fooling anybody because Henri patted my shoulder once halfway through whatever the teacher said.

I was leaving Duncan.

Everything was moving so fast.

In a daze, just as quickly as we’d come in, Henri shooed us out, and I tried to catch Duncan’s attention, but he was busy getting pet by a boy with large ears and pale green skin. My donut had his butt in the air, his tail was swishing back and forth, and the boy, who I assumed was an ogre, was smiling at him.

That meant he was fine, right? That he felt safe and confident and knew that I would never, ever leave him until he was an adult? I could not cry.

This might be the worst moment of my life.

Top five at least, and I’d lived through losing Matti’s mom and dad, who I had considered my second parents, and moving away from my own parents.

The door had barely closed behind us when Henri stopped, and I couldn’t find the strength in me to do anything else but do the same.

I scratched my upper lip.

Henri lowered his voice. “You can cry outside but not in front of him.”

I wasn’t technically in front of him, I wanted to argue, but I nodded, all jerky and just once. “He used to wail when I locked him out of the bathroom because he’d bite my underwear and try to take off running with them, and he just dropped me like a bad habit,” I told him, torn between laughing and tearing up.

There was a clear winner not even a second later. Shrugging my shoulder, I wiped my eye with it and sniffled. Then I did it again.

“It’s fine. I’m fine,” I tried to assure him. Then I waved my hand in front of the upper half of my face, but that didn’t do anything. “You don’t need to say anything. I’m not crying.”

Henri’s rugged face was neutral as he lifted his hand, set it on my shoulder, waited a second, and gave it a light squeeze. “He looks happy.”

“He does, huh?” I whispered.

He nodded.

Then I nodded.

And he said, very seriously, “If you’re done not crying, we can start the tour.”

If I was done….

That did it. The grief left my body just like that. There was no way I didn’t look like a goldfish as I stood there, trying to figure out how I could respectfully respond to that, while also trying to process whether he was teasing me again or not.

Henri didn’t give me enough time to decide. He squeezed my shoulder gently one more time, a very werewolfy touch—and so unlike the man-boy I’d known who had never been very affectionate to anyone in my memories—and said, “Follow me.”