Red Moon Rising

14. trappings

He smiles softly and gives a short shrug. "You know. He misses you a lot. I don't think he holds it against you, though."

"I hope not. And Tasha?"

"The same. But I hear she calls you quite a bit."

"Every night." It's difficult for my dad when we talk on the phone—I don't think he truly understands what's at stake for me and Cam, and the longer we're gone the more desperate he seems to convince me to come back. But Tasha is my rock, my solid connection to Rust Cove. She tells me about dad, and she spies on Cam's family for us to give us updates. But she didn't tell me about the traps, or the glitching cameras. She knows me well enough to know how torn up I am now, thinking of Mira's crushed leg. I know I had to leave, but I shouldn't have left Tyler or any of those kids. Maybe my presence there wouldn't have stopped this from happening. But it would have stopped the pain in my chest for not being there to even try to prevent it.

Mindy pokes her head outside the door to let us know that Tom's food is ready, and I can see her glancing over me, measuring my face to make sure I'm okay. I try to reassure her with my smile, and she slips back inside to leave us alone.

"You still have my number in your phone?"

"Yeah."

"I hope you'll call if you need anything." He stares at me before breaking into a smile and opening the door for me, letting me step inside before following behind me, the door dinging once again. "You and Cameron should join us for dinner sometime. My wife has been in a bread baking phase lately and she makes a mean sourdough."

I have to smile at that, and I nod slowly. "Maybe we will."

"You're not alone out here. Okay?"

"Okay. Thanks, Tom." He starts walking back to his table, but I reach for him and grab ahold of his sleeve without thinking. We're still out of earshot of the other patrons, but I keep my voice low as I take a step near him. "Were their footprints around the traps?"

He looks up quickly and frowns at the implication. "I don't know. What are you getting at?"

"Jackson and I looked, and we didn't find any. There were mouse tracks, but nothing else, not even pressure from the metal being pushed into the ground."

Tom chews his lip and doesn't look at me.

"Is that crazy?" I whisper, suddenly feeling a little terrified that he seems to be taking me seriously. It's easier to hold that information inside of myself when I know that someone else will shoot it down.

"I don't know, Layla." I'm still holding onto his shirt, afraid to let go. "There's some kind of force that lets men turn to wolves. Why should it stop there?"

My hand drops to my side, and he gives me a smile that doesn't reach his eyes before returning to his breakfast. Todd leans across the table to talk to him but Tom waves him into silence, and I realize that he doesn't have any interest in sharing my identity or my pack's troubles with anyone else, at least not Todd. I wonder if he'll tell his wife that he invited two wolves to dinner.

I don't tell Cam that I saw Tom. I don't want to have to tell him about Mira and her broken leg, and I don't want to explain to him that I can feel deeply within me that something very wrong is happening, that I've been feeling it every since that damned blood moon. Now there are apparating leg holds and strange wolves about with cold, dead hands—and in the middle of it all there is this fucking curse, or the idea of a curse, that has driven Cam and me out of Rust Cove. All because of a pile of bones interpreted by a select few wolves. What is there to make of all of this? And why do I even assume that it is connected, or that Cam and I are a part of it in any way? But there is this persistent feeling inside my chest, this thumping beat of dread that tells me what I can't quite put into words.

Cam can tell I'm on edge tonight—he smooths his hands across my shoulders and rubs at the knots that have formed along my shoulder blades. I can feel the tension from the tips of my fingers all the way up to my scalp, and I try to let my shoulders sag as his fingers work away some of the worry from the day. I lean back into his chest and absorb the feeling of his arms encircling me, pulling me closer to him. This is what it feels like to be so loved that every problem becomes a little smaller.

"I'll marry you, Cam."

The way his heart beats a little faster makes me smile, and I keep smiling as he kisses my neck and cheek and hair. "Yeah?"

"We'll need witnesses."

"Jeana and Peter."

"And I don't want to spend money on all the things that humans do. I don't need a dress, or a ring."

"One less thing to take off when we shift."

"And Cam..."

He turns me to face him, his hands slipping over my cheeks as he kisses me. "Yeah?"

"I don't want to start a family, at least not for a long time. I don't...I don't want to raise a kid in  a world like this. Especially a wolf kid."

"We could always adopt, you know."

"And then what? Do we keep what we are a secret from our own child? I don't want to live like that, and I don't want anyone to feel cast out like we have."

"There's no rush, okay? If you want to have a family in twenty years, then great—we'll figure it out then. If you decide you want it to be the two of us for the rest of our mortal lives, then we'll have the best lives two wolves could ask for." He kisses me again, and I wrap my arms around his waist. "Our lives can be whatever we want them to be. That's the point of all of this."

"God I love you, Cam. I don't think you even know how much I love you."

"You know, I think loving you is the best thing I ever did."

And I believe him, because it's impossible not to believe him when he's holding me like this. It's impossible not to feel like everything will be okay when his arms are around me. But the cold seeps in when he suddenly lets go of me at the sound of his phone ringing. I know we both have the same feeling each time his phone goes off—it rarely rings anymore, and when it does it's only ever Peter. But he still scrambles for it on the off chance that the voice on the other end will belong to his parents or his sisters. He stares at the screen and then looks at me for a long moment before accepting the call and holding the device like a foreign object to his ear.

"Hey," he says, and his voice is hoarse. I can hear a muffled sound on the other end, something like tears. "Amy?"

"Cam," her voice is broken, and she cries a little harder when she says his name. He looks helplessly at me and I slip my arm through his, resting my cheek on his shoulder. I can hear her voice clearly from the speaker when she says his name again, as if she hasn't gotten to say it quite enough in the past month and a half. "Will you come home?"

"You know what mom said," he says softly. "What's wrong?"

"Mom's really sick. It started during the full moon and she's getting worse."

"How sick?"

Amy cries harder, and Cam's muscles are tense beneath my hand.

"Amy, how sick is she?"

"You should come home soon. She wants to see you again."

"Is she..."

"Yeah," Amy's voice breaks, and she drags in a long breath. "I don't know how long."

"Okay," he breathes. "Okay." His hand comes to find mine, and he squeezes my fingers. "I'll see you soon."