“What happened?” he said.
Ben bowed his head, hiding a smile. “It’s hard to explain.”
“You look like you had a pretty good time,” Cormac said.
“Maybe I did.” Ben stared at him. He actually did look pretty good, considering: tired, but relaxed. Not freaked out, like Cormac might have expected. Ben looked better than he had in days, since Cormac brought him here.
For my part, my face felt like I was blushing fire-engine-red. Yup, human Kitty was back. Wolf never blushed.
Cormac stared, like he could see through Ben, study him with x-ray vision. Cormac was the kind of guy who didn’t like being out of control, who didn’t like not knowing everything. Ben had traveled somewhere he couldn’t go. He wanted to know what had happened to his cousin over the last twelve hours—that was all. But Ben couldn’t tell him. He couldn’t explain it—I couldn’t explain it. That reality was part of the Wolf, inhuman and unspeakable.
Ben slumped under the pressure of his gaze. Shoulders hunched, he went into the cabin and slammed the door. Leaving Cormac and me on the porch.
I wanted to tell Cormac to leave Ben alone. He couldn’t possibly understand, no matter how much he stared at Ben. Before I could think of a way to say this to him without him getting pissed off at me, he spoke.
“You were right about him changing his mind. I really wasn’t sure he would. But you knew.”
Actually, I’d hoped. I let Cormac think otherwise. “I’ve been through it myself. I knew he’d feel differently.”
“You knew he’d like being a werewolf.”
“That’s not a good way to describe it.”
“What happened out there?”
Surely he’d figured it out. Or his imagination had. I didn’t know why he wanted me to spell it out for him. “That’s not any of your business.”
I turned to go inside.
“Kitty—” He grabbed my wrist.
I froze before I hit him. It was only instinct, my pulling back with fingers bent like outstretched claws. He saw it; we stood like that in a tableau. So many unasked questions played in his gaze.
He brought Ben here so I could help him, keep him alive. Not shack up with him. None of us had expected that. And now Cormac actually looked hurt, some pain-filled anguish touching his features. If Cormac had wanted things to happen differently between us, why couldn’t he just come out and say it? He’d had his chance. I’d given him plenty of chances. I couldn’t go backward.
“Cormac, I’m sorry.” I brushed myself out of his grasp and went into the house.
My usual routine after a full moon: I came home, took a shower, and crawled into bed for a couple hours of more comfortable sleep. Then I woke up and had some coffee. No breakfast because I wasn’t hungry. Wolf usually had had plenty to eat during the night.
Ben had already started the coffee. The scent filled the house, and I had to admit it smelled wonderful. Soothing, like I could curl up on the sofa and forget about the guys in my house. I didn’t want to leave them alone long enough to take a shower. Like I still thought Cormac might draw a bead on Ben with that rifle. Easy to forget that Cormac was the one who’d brought Ben here because he didn’t want to shoot him.
I was too wired to sleep. I’d already spent the extra time napping back in the woods with Ben. That man had screwed up my entire schedule. Though if I thought about it, what I really wanted to do was crawl back into bed with him—
I went to the kitchen and poured myself a cup of coffee. Ben, sitting at the table with his own cup, didn’t say anything. Whatever he said, I was sure it would make me snap at him. I didn’t want to do that. I gave him what I hoped was a reassuring smile.
Cormac joined us a minute later, after I heard the door to the Jeep open and close. He didn’t have the rifle with him, so I assumed he put it away. Good. He sat across from Ben. I leaned back against the counter.
Here we were, back in the kitchen, glaring at tabletops and not saying anything.
I couldn’t stand long silences. That probably came from working in radio. “So, kids. Any questions? We all squared away?”
“I don’t know that I’d go that far,” Ben said, chuckling softly. He shrugged his hands in a gesture of helplessness. “What do I do now? If I’m really going to live with this, what do I do?”
I said, “You’re a lawyer. Go back and… lawyer. What would you be doing if this hadn’t happened?”
“It’s not that simple,” he said. “It can’t possibly be that simple.”
He was right, of course.