Land of Wolves

Chapter 34

My palms are clammy, and I mindlessly wipe them on my pant legs as I step into the kitchen and wait for my coffee to finish brewing. I need all the extra energy I can get today.

I refuse to sit around like a lost duck waiting for Caleb to claim me. It's pathetic, and I refuse to be that girl for one minute longer. If he wants to go around entertaining the female wolves, he won't do so with me waiting for his return.

Caleb's made it clear I can only rely on myself, and I can't continue to blindly believe our bond will save our relationship. I need to put myself first.

If I'm going to live in this pack for the indefinite future, I need to acclimate.

Earning the forgiveness of the wolves is going to be an uphill battle, one I'm not necessarily excited about. They hate HPAW just as much as HPAW hates them, and I understand why they're pissed. They were nothing but kind to me, and I took advantage of it and made them out to be fools.

The addicting scent of coffee fills my nose, and I grab some milk from the fridge as it finishes brewing. I need it.

I got almost no sleep last night, and finding a job will be a headache. I hate being dependent on Caleb, and it's time I learn how to be a functioning adult. I went from having HPAW take care of everything to Caleb doing so. There's never been a time for me to be independent.

My phone vibrates as I ready my coffee, but I ignore it.

I know who it is.

Caleb's been trying to reach me since I left the hospital yesterday morning. He's called and texted several times, but I refuse to torture myself by reading his messages or listening to his voicemails.

Thinking of him with other women hurts, and I'm not mentally prepared to acknowledge it.

My phone vibrates once more before going silent, and I turn the device over so I'm not tempted to look. I already have a plan for today, and I refuse to get distracted and sway from it.

I will drink my coffee and scarf down a granola bar before going to the library to beg Mary for a job. She hates me, that much is abundantly clear, but I can tell she needs the help. When I came to do my research, the return cart was overflowing with books and she seemed to be the only employee there.

My nerves grow as I work through my morning routine, and I'm surprised I haven't sweat through my shirt by the time I'm ready to leave. I threw on a thick sweater and did three swipes of deodorant to be safe, and I do a sniff test before grabbing my car keys off the table and making my way outside.

I'm extra careful not to slip on the concrete.

My doctor said I need to be mindful not to knock my head for the next two weeks while my brain heals, and I'm taking that advice seriously. I don't have many skills, and my intelligence is the one thing about myself I truly wish to preserve.

Slamming my head against hard surfaces is sure to damage a few brain cells.

Without thinking, I reach up and touch the back of my head. The small cut is all scabbed over, and I spent a good thirty minutes this morning styling my hair so it doesn't show. It's not perfect and shows if I move a certain way, but it's the best I can do.

I'd put on a hat, but I don't want my hair to get all messed up. The wolves already hate me, and I want to paint myself in the best light possible when I beg them for a job. Having hat hair would be doing the opposite of that.

The tips of my ears grow cold as I rush to my car, and I shiver as I get inside and turn on the heat. Caleb used to turn the car on and leave it running for a few minutes in the mornings, and I'm very quickly learning I hate the feeling of getting into a cold car.