Brynn stared at the bottle between her hands as she tilted it back and forth, swirling the amber liquid around. “I blame myself for blaming her. It feels ungrateful and unfair, but the last three weeks have been pretty miserable, and I’m not just talking about the people trying to hurt us.”
Trying to approach what had happened—and what still might—from a rational standpoint would drive her batshit. “Who said your feelings have to be fair? They’re your feelings. Be miserable if you want.”
“Yeah?” Her jaw tightened. She drank the rest of her beer and pushed the empty bottle aside. “Well, I’m scared shitless, all the time. The only thing that’s going to help is learning to take care of myself, so why don’t you start lecturing, or whatever?”
He pointed to her plate. “Eat.”
She stiffened. “Don’t you start. I’ve got enough would-be parents.”
It would have been amusing if he hadn’t already spent the better part of the last three weeks trying to fight his protective instincts, which were about as far from parental as you could get. “If I decided to get in on that game, the first thing I’d do would be spank your ass.” He’d mostly meant it as a joke, but the words came out with a bitter, grumbling bite. “You spend half your time bitching about being treated like a little kid, and the other half acting like one. Make up your mind.”
Brynn opened her mouth and snapped it shut again as angry color flooded her cheeks. “I would love to hear what you think I should be doing, then. What amazingly mature and adult actions should I take?”
He bristled. “For one thing, you could listen to me when I warn you that becoming a werewolf isn’t going to magically fix all your problems.”
“And I told you the only problem I think being a werewolf will fix is how easy I am to kill. Besides, I’d rather do it because I want to than because the next person who came after us decided to rip me up and infect me.” She leaned forward, the hot anger in her eyes turning her words into weapons. “That’s what they were going to do, you know. Matthews already had the guy picked out. He’d come into that room and paw at me and talk about how he wanted to turn me. How much he was going to like it.”
He managed to let go of his beer before he shattered the bottle. Her words weren’t surprising; he’d be shocked as hell if that was the worst thing they’d done to her. But hearing her say it, seeing the pain on her face… He shook his head. “There are a lot of things about this world that aren’t pretty, Brynn. But would you really be doing it because you wanted to?”
It took forever for her to answer. “Maybe not. But I don’t have a lot of options, and this morning made it pretty clear that running away to hide isn’t going to keep me safe.”
“No, it isn’t.” He lowered his voice to a whisper. “Who are you going to blame if you do it and hate it, Brynn? Abby? Matthews? Or me, because I should have stopped you and didn’t?”
He expected her to say she wouldn’t blame anybody, but she didn’t. Her jaw tightened stubbornly as she met his eyes. “Damn right I’ll blame Matthews. I blame him for kidnapping me, for hurting my sister, and for sending people after us. I blame him for every damn thing he’s done, and if I make this stupid choice backed into a corner and it goes bad, I’ll blame him for that, too. But at least I’ll be alive to blame him, and right now that’s all I want.”
Joe rose, leaving his food untouched. “Then hold on to that, and we’ll start with the weapons training tomorrow. I promise.”
The fight went out of her with shocking speed. She managed a shaky smile that didn’t reach her eyes before she turned her focus to her sandwich. “Thank you. I’m sorry.”
He’d gotten angry with himself and lost his temper, but it wasn’t fair to let her think it was her fault.
“Look, Brynn. You could have talked to a dozen other people about this and nobody would have blinked. I have some issues when it comes to people deciding they want the transformation. But they’re mine, not yours. So don’t listen to me, okay?”
“No, I get it. You want to make sure I don’t have stupid romantic ideas.” She didn’t look at him, and her voice sounded numb. “You said there are a lot of things about this world that aren’t pretty. That’s not news, Joe. Kidnapping, abuse, murder, torture, rape… You want to know why I’m bitching about stupid shit? It’s easier than admitting that last night I tried to decide what would be worse, this life or death…and it took me a few minutes.”
He didn’t know how to tell her it was the most reassuring thing he’d heard her say yet. “Maybe tomorrow I can help you talk to Abby.”
She finally picked up the sandwich and took a bite. She chewed in silence and swallowed without looking at him. “Okay.”
Chapter Three
Brynn held up the battered box and read the faded writing. “Strawberry toaster pastries, huh? Not only are they store brand, but they might be from the eighties. I think you must be trying to poison me.”
“There are better ways. Faster too.” Dylan’s tone was gentle, and so was the look in his brown eyes.
“It’s all I could find on short notice.”
She fought the tears she was too stubborn to shed and distracted herself by tilting the box on its side and making a big show of squinting at the bottom. “I can’t even find an expiration date. I’d ask you to eat one first, but I don’t know if werewolves get food poisoning.”
“Doubtful. I’m fairly sure I’d have killed myself with my own cooking by now.”
Banter with Dylan was the first normal thing she’d had to cling to in weeks. “Yeah, how are you going to live out here without fast food delivery? I hope Cindy can feed you.”
Most people wouldn’t have noticed his hesitation or the tense set of his shoulders, but Brynn had known Dylan far too long to buy his attempt to be casual as he leaned against the counter. “Cindy’s pretty good in the kitchen.”
Ignoring her supposed reservations, Brynn popped open the box and pulled a crinkly silver package out. Things obviously weren’t going well between Dylan and his new girlfriend. “Trouble in paradise? I thought you were the hero of the hour.”
“Hero?” Dylan’s mouth twisted in a self-deprecating approximation of a smile. “That’s overstating things. I’m just a guy. One who isn’t very good at relationships, I think.”
“Neither of us ever were.” The pastry was broken inside the wrapper, but it didn’t stop her from popping a piece into her mouth. In spite of the beat-up wrapper, it tasted as good as any cold generic boxed snack could be expected to. “I should be crying about Richard instead of eating junk food. I am a crappy, crappy sister. What the hell’s wrong with me, Dylan?”
“You barely knew Richard, that’s what. Besides, you can cry and eat junk food.”
Tears burned her eyes again, and she stared at the table. “I barely knew him because he was working and sending us money. He was taking care of me. He and Abby always took care of me.”
“Hey.” Dylan grasped her shoulders and turned her to face him. “Brynn, what happened to your brother wasn’t your fault. Blame at a time like this will drive you crazy. I know, because I dealt with it when Matthews turned Abby and then took you.”
Brynn shivered and closed her eyes, unable to take the calm understanding in his expression. “I still should have known, Dylan. I was up close and way too personal with Alan. He’s insane and he’s fixated on Abby in a way that doesn’t even make sense.”
“Because he can’t have her.” Dylan said it matter-of-factly. “You don’t understand, Brynn. No one says no to Alan Matthews. No one.”
“You did.”
He tensed again. “Yeah, I did.”
“All those years, Dylan…” Brynn found his gaze and this time she didn’t bother to hide the tears.
“Abby doesn’t really know, does she? You got her out before she saw what they’re like. What your life must have been…what hers would have been.”
“She never will, and neither will you.” He spoke quietly but vehemently, and she could almost feel the intensity of his determination. “I’m not going to pretend the last ten years of my life haven’t sucked up one side and down the other. But if I manage to do this one thing, Brynn, it’ll be worth it.”
Will it? She couldn’t ask the words, not with that brittle, pained look in his eyes. She recognized it all too well, had seen it a dozen times before when Dylan had shown up on her apartment’s stoop with a bag full of convenience-store junk food and a quiet, tense unhappiness that he tried to hide. She’d clung to him as the big brother she’d never gotten to have, the replacement for Richard, whose monthly checks and bimonthly phone calls might as well have come from a stranger.
But Richard hadn’t been a stranger to Abby. To her, he was a peer, the brother who’d helped her make the safe, comfortable life Brynn had enjoyed after the deaths of their parents.
Guilt burned through her, and she folded her arms on the table and dropped her head with a groan. “I am a horrible person. I should go over there and try to help Abby.”
“Abby’s with Keith,” Dylan reminded her.
Unspoken was what they both understood: even if she was alone, Abby wouldn’t accept support from her baby sister. Abby would fake strength and stability from the second Brynn set foot across the threshold, as if her pain was incidental. And she’d keep dying inside while she took care of everyone but herself.
Abby had Keith now. Someone she could let go with, if only for a short time. Brynn sighed and rubbed her face against the sleeve of the oversized sweatshirt Joe had lent her, trying to scrub away tears.
“This sucks, Dylan. This all just…sucks.”
“I know, and I’m sorry.” He pulled a chair close to hers and sat, his arm touching hers. “I’m here to help, if I can.”