Rejecting Him

Sitting in my car on the way home, I knew what I needed to do, and that didn't include going to Yoga tomorrow, as I would have otherwise done. I needed answers, and while the pack grapevine could probably yield something, that something wouldn't be enough.

The answers I needed would be with Dad, in the one place I had never been allowed into.

His office.

I still had no idea what I thought I was doing when I pulled up to my parents' house the next morning. My chest tightened when I glanced over at the quiet, empty house. Guilt squeezed at my heart with no promise to let go.

I had never gotten rid of my old house key. In fact, Mom and Dad told me to keep it, back when I moved out. This was still my home, they said, and I was always welcome here.

Why, then, does it feel like I'm breaking in?

I clutched the old house key in my hand. It felt cold and strange against my skin, as if it didn't want to be held.

Now that's just stupid, I thought angrily to myself. Keys aren't alive.

Being what I was, I wholeheartedly believed there was more to this world than what we saw and experienced every day. That didn't mean I believed any of that New Age psychic stuff. Objects weren't alive. This key and the house it was about to let me into weren't about to punish me for what I planned to do.

Neither Mom nor Dad were home, which was made clear to me by the absence of their cars. Both were most likely working, Mom at her real estate job and Dad at the used book store he ran. He often took in donations at his job, especially if the books were related to Oregon's wildlife and nature trails. Most of his customers thought he specialized in certain things, and maybe he did, but for Dad, it was all part of networking. At the store, he met and interacted with a lot of customers. It was a good way to know what other werewolves were out there. Not only that, but used book stores were typically quiet, low-key places. Just the way Dad liked it.

I tried my best to look natural as I darted across the street and jogged lightly up the steps. Despite the fact that my parents were out, I was still painfully on edge. The click of the door being unlocked may as well have been a cannon going off.

The door swung open. I paused. Sniffed the air. Listened for any out-of-place noises. There was nothing unusual, though--the house still smelled like potpourri, Dad's earthy scent, Mom's lavender. I breathed it all in as if I had just been drowning. My own scent no longer lingered here, but this was still home.

Slowly, cautiously, I shut the door behind me and peered around the living room. It looked the same as it had the night of the meeting, only this time the room was completely empty and there was no buffet table set up. A white archway separated the living room from the dining room--that area was empty, too.

On an end table to my left--wooden and colonial-style to match the rest of the house--was a stack of letters. Normally the mail would have fallen to the floor, however, they were stacked neatly on the table. That, and the faint, wispy scent of lemon Pledge told me that our cleaning lady, Doris, had been by earlier. Dad didn't like having Doris around, but Mom had hired her anyway. Whatever Doris had seen here, she never told a soul. Dad had his ways of knowing, and if she had told someone, he'd have definitely known.

I carefully picked through the letters one by one, only to turn up empty handed. Nothing but bills and coupons for various businesses. Just as well, I suppose; last I checked, it was still illegal to steal someone's mail.

An older car rumbled by on the streets, and for a second, I froze. The car continued on. I let out a breath I didn't know I had been holding.

To my right was the stair case. Just like old times, I bounded up the stairs, taking every other step. Mom always hated when I did this; when I was younger I hadn't yet grown into the natural lightness of step that each werewolf possessed. When I got older, she said it was just plain "unsightly". I was the Alpha's daughter, she said. I should be more lady-like.

I idly wondered how much progress I would have made with getting Warren to go away if I'd been "more lady-like". Probably less than I had now, and even that wasn't much to shake a stick at.

When I reached the top of the stairs, my disgust at the present situation turned to guilt. Family photos lined the hallway. Some of them were my class pictures, some of them family portraits taken at a Yuen Lui studio, and one, seemingly more prominent than the rest, was the photo from the zoo.

I bit my lip, a sickening, twisted feeling gnawing away at me from the inside.

I should turn back, I thought to myself. Now, before Dad has any more reasons to be ashamed of me...

I turned around, ready to leave, only to remember that almost-kiss. My lips tingled at the memory, in the exact spot where they had brushed against Logan's, and I lightly ran my fingertips over the spot. Warren had been there, I know he had. He knew where I lived, and I was certain he had returned later that night.

That alone was enough to make me turn back around. I leveled my gaze with the door at the end of the hall. This was something I needed to do. I had a right, as a member of the Willamette Valley Pack, to know about what was going on in Seattle. I had a right, as the wolf everyone expected to become Warren's Mate, to know about Warren himself. He had done nothing but antagonize me and make a mess of my life since he arrived, and I wasn't about to sit around and let it continue to happen.

At the end of the hall was the door to Dad's office, with his and Mom's bedroom immediately to the left. The office door stood dark and looming, its brass knob gleaming at me like an eye. Sucking in an uneasy breath, I took a nervous step forward, then another, and another. Before I knew it, I stood in front of the door, nearly trembling from excitement. Dad's residual scent hung in the air, mingling with Mom's slightly from their wide-open bedroom.

Hand trembling, I took the knob, twisted, and pulled.

The door wouldn't open.

I let out an annoyed sound through gritted teeth. How could I be so stupid? Of course Dad would lock his office. What self-respecting Alpha wouldn't? As the leader of a race that's living in a masquerade, it's not like there's many humans that could be trusted with our secret. And with a regular housekeeper coming by...

Sighing, I turned and gazed carefully around the hallway. Maybe there could be a key hidden behind the photos, or in the plant next to the office door, but I wasn't so sure. Dad was smarter than that. Even still, I had to try.

As suspected, the photos yielded nothing, and neither did the plant. It was fake anyway, stuck into a block of foam with rough moss bunched around its base. I wasn't sure how a key could be hidden in that.

The only other area I could think of checking was Mom and Dad's room. Just thinking about looking in there sent a shiver down my spine, hesitant once more. In our household, their room was just as strictly off-limits as the office. It was their territory, it was their sanctuary. Intrusion was not taken lightly. Not in wolf packs, and certainly not under Dad's roof. We thrived on respect and order. Now, at this very moment, my actions were flying in the face of both.

I squeezed my eyes shut and wracked my brain for an alternate solution. In the kitchen we had a drawer full of keys: old keys to our last two homes, duplicate keys to this one, keys of unknown origin, keys to the shed and to a storage room in a building out by the airport. I wondered if Dad was the type to hide his keys among the others, but there was no sure answer. How well did I really know him anymore?

I headed downstairs to search through the drawer. Since I didn't know what exactly I was looking for, I had to take the keys--each group secured to their own ring--to try the door. No dice. I went back downstairs to the drawer and placed them carefully in the way I'd found them. Dad may know right away that I had been here because of his sense of smell, but not Mom. I would have to be incredibly careless in order for her to detect my intrusion without Dad telling her anything.

"Shit," I hissed under my breath as I slammed the drawer shut. "Now what?"

Of course, I knew. I had to search their room.

~

My skin seemed to prickle as I took my first awkward steps over the threshold of my parents' room. A floorboard creaked beneath my cautious feet, sending my senses onto high alert. The noise, while small, seemed to ring out like gunfire, or a dumpster lid being slammed shut in a place with good acoustics. I paused, listening, breath caught in my throat. Then I looked around.

The bedroom was just as clean and frilly as the rest of the house; Mom really had a thing for colonial décor. A white, flowery comforter was spread neatly on the bed, and sheer yellow curtains hung above large windows across from the door. The room was bathed in natural golden sunlight. A round, cream-colored rug claimed the center of the floor. To my left was a wooden antique writing desk.

Two wooden night stands, draped with white lace, flanked the antique canopy-topped bed. An old glass lamp sat on one night stand, and next to it was a cheesy airport romance novel with a bookmark stuck in it. Mom never dog-eared her pages.

Each night stand had a drawer, which was where I started my search, as there was no way would I go rooting around in my parents' dresser or closet. All I found, though, were smaller things like pens, a planner, a pack of Kleenex and my mom's red reading glasses. I checked the planner. It had to have been Mom's since it was marked with nothing more than dates that she'd be showing houses to people. I didn't recognize the names, so I put it back.

The other drawer had nothing of value. I sighed with annoyance and made my way back to the door.

Perhaps Dad wears the key, I thought to myself in defeat. Maybe it's not here...

The floorboard squeaked again as I crossed it. I rolled my eyes. Dad really needed to get that thing looked at.

Hold on...

I pressed the floorboard again, and it gave another squeak. Frowning, I repeated the action.

Could it be...?

I knelt and felt around for...something, anything that would give, I supposed. My fingers dug into a groove that seemed promising. With a tug and a grunt, I pulled the floorboard up.

Lying in a small space under the floor was a dark green pouch with light green drawstrings at the sides. I picked it up and opened it, pulling out a tiny gold key.