How to Flirt With a Naked Werewolf - Molly Harper [106]
How many times had I wanted him to say that? How much anger and anxiety could have been prevented if we’d had this conversation when I was a teenager, instead of a thirty-year-old? I sighed, feeling a little weight wiggle loose from my chest. There was still pressure there, from Cooper, from past hurts, but it was eased enough to let me breathe.
“I’ve got to go,” I told them, my voice thick. “I love you guys, I really do. I’ll try to come home for a visit soon, OK? Iloveyoubye.”
A few minutes after I hung up, the cell phone rang again. It was such a relief to see the caller ID and not feel that dread. I smiled. “Did you forget something, Mom?”
“What’s bothering you, baby?”
I opened my mouth to protest. “Nothing’s bothering—”
“I know this is probably a strain on the delicate peace we’ve just built, but honey, I know when something’s wrong with you. Is it a man?”
I hung my head. “How did you know?”
“Well, I’ve never heard that kind of hurt in your voice before. And you’ve never been in the kind of relationship where you could be hurt like that,” she said. “So it stands to reason that this is something new for you.”
“It sucks, Mom. It really, really sucks.”
“Can you tell me about it?”
This was new, too—Mom asking for information instead of demanding answers, which was good, because I was going to have to edit heavily anything I told her. I was not ready to tell my parents about the baby yet. For one thing, they might insist on coming up to visit, and I couldn’t have them traipsing through the complicated werewolf soap opera that had become my life. And second—well, really, the possibility that they might come to visit was reason enough. One good phone call isn’t going to make me that optimistic.
“I can’t talk about it right now, Mom. There’s too much going on. But I will, soon. I’ll call in a few days, OK?”
“I love you, Mo. I just want—I want you to be happy. You say that you needed to figure out who you were without us. But you’ve always known what you wanted, honey. And sometimes I made it hard for you to have that because I thought I knew better. And I’m sorry. I never wanted you to doubt yourself. You know what you want. You wouldn’t have traveled so far without knowing what you want. You’ve gone the distance. Now, maybe it’s time to sit back and let what you want come to you.”
“Thanks, Mom.” My forehead creased as I stared at the phone and wondered what exactly my mother had been smoking to bring out her logical side. “That’s oddly appropriate and well-timed advice.”
“Oh, honey, don’t be sarcastic. I’m trying here.”
“I’m not!” I exclaimed. “Seriously, that’s very helpful.”
“Really?” Mom sighed. “I’m so glad. Though, honestly, I don’t know why you sound so surprised. I’ve been giving you good advice for years.”
“Don’t push it.”
20
The Hormones Speak
I WAS BAKING A THIRD batch of what Evie was starting to call my triple-chocolate “misery brownies”—a new bestseller for the saloon—when Oscar set up a howl and ran for the door. I jumped at the soft, insistent knock. I tried to control the pounding in my chest as I raced to the door, oven mitt still on my hand.
I yanked the knob (somewhat clumsily, given the oven mitt) and found my local forest ranger on my doorstep with a bottle of red wine and a pizza from Mama Rosario’s, the only decent place for a pie in a fifty-mile radius.
“Alan.” I sighed, instantly ashamed at the disappointment coloring my voice. “Funny, I didn’t order a pizza. Someone must have prank-called the ranger station.”
Alan laughed. “I hope you like pepperoni and sausage. And I hope you don’t mind me just stopping by. Mo, you—you just looked so sad at work this afternoon. I wanted to come by and cheer you up.”
It was galling how quickly that made me tear up. I smiled, opening the door and taking the wine, a nice table red, from him. “I love pepperoni and sausage.”
We sat on the couch, chowed down on the best pizza available in northwestern Alaska, and talked. But I couldn’t seem to get comfortable. I sat with my back against the armrest, my legs folded against my chest