People keep coming up to us and chatting, stringing together conversations and engaging us. It’s friendly and they’re wonderful, but if we don’t leave soon, we’re going to need pee breaks—and I’m afraid if we get out of the car again, we’ll never leave.
“What’s going to happen to my mom?” Ginny asks, sitting forward in the middle of the back seat so that she’s hanging over the console and can better see Finn, who’s glued himself to Deek’s window, practically obliterating Deek as he leans inside and chats with us like he loves our company so much he can’t walk away.
Ginny’s question makes Finn revert to a much more serious mien. He withdraws from the window a little, which gives Deek—who has his salad bowl on his lap for catching puke just in case we get the chance to drive home—a little more room. Finn meets Ginny’s gaze with more solemnity than I’ve ever seen from him. “We’re going to teach your mam what it means to be Pack. We’re going to do everything we can to help her clean up and fit in here.”
Ginny’s eyes don’t waver from his, but he doesn’t seem offended by her direct eye contact. “What happens if she can’t, or… won’t?”
Finn swallows, but he doesn’t shrink away from answering. “We’ll make sure you get the chance to say goodbye.”
Ginny’s head drops so suddenly it’s like a puppeteer cut her string.
Tentatively, Deek reaches out and pats her shoulder. When she doesn’t flinch away from him, he carefully pets her hair.
I rub her back.
“We’ll be showing you the ropes too,” Finn says, trying to draw her out of thoughts of how things might go if her mom can’t recover in the ways the Pack demands. “And you’re going to do great.”
“What if I’m like her?” Ginny questions, still slumped over the console, her voice bleak and her breath choppy.
“You’re not,” Finn murmurs with feeling. “You aren’t like her, and you know it.” He takes in a breath like he’s not sure he should go any farther, but with a glance at me and the occupants in the back seat, he does, his stare moving to Ginny’s bent head. “The Pack is made of people who have good heads on their shoulders. Strong people, and I’m not just talking in the physical sense. We didn’t survive in secret this long by having members who couldn’t control themselves. We need decent folk, and Ginny, you do us proud on all fronts. You’ve kept your nose clean and you have nothing to worry about. Y’hear?”
Without a word, Ginny sinks back until she’s sandwiched between Charlotte and Maggie in her car seat.
“We’re going to head home,” I announce for maybe the third time. “Thanks again, Finn.”
“Say, would you three like ice cream for the road?” Gail calls from the porch.
Maggie reacts like they’re giving away free puppies and kittens and Liams. “MOMMMMM, CAN WE HAVE ICE CREAM?”
“What is it with you and ice cream?” Ginny asks her over Charlotte’s groan.
Deek darts a glance at me from the corner of his eye, and head slightly ducked like he’s doing something wrong, he orders, “Turn the car on.”
“I don’t want to waste gas and I’m afraid we’re going to be here awhile—” I start.
Deek reaches for my hand, which was already on the key, and covers my fingers with his. With gentle pressure, he turns the key in the ignition using my hand’s grip.
He leans out the window. “Loved seeing everyone. Goodbye.” He puts his left hand on my knee. “Go.”
“Susan!” Jennifer calls. “It was so nice to meet you! I’d—”
Deek pinches the outside of my thigh. “Go.”
“Ouch! I don’t want to be rude, and did you really just—”
Deek soothes the spot by rubbing it lightly, although he doesn’t verbalize an apology out loud. “Susan, they won’t be offended. Really. They know what they’re like.”
“Hup ya boya! Tracey is coming up the road!” someone calls from outside.
“Tracey!” someone shouts.
Another voice calls, “Heya, it’s Tracey!”
A herd of werewolves—or a pack, I guess—runs up to an approaching vehicle that has a small flashing light on the roof.
Our car is so filled with confusion it should be fogging up the windows. “Who is Tracey?” Maggie asks.
“Drive, Susan,” Deek orders. He twists to address Maggie. “She’s the mail lady.”
“Bye, Finn!” As I put us in drive and get rolling, Charlotte is snickering. “Werewolves get happy when they see the mail lady?”