Page 6 of Full Moon Frenzy

“I know you have,” she answered quickly. “Because we fit so well. We made sense. I fit perfectly into the attractive, inoffensive girlfriend-shaped hole at your side. But that’s what you’ve been committed to. The optics of who we play at being. And I want something more than that. I deserve something more than that.”

“I thought we were happy!”

She smiled then, that same miserable smile she’d given him as she left the tent.

“You’re happy, Trapp. You genuinely love this life. I don’t. I thought I would get used to being the only human at the table, but I haven’t. Don’t even pretend your father won’t be thrilled. You love this place, and you love your place in it. I’m just not cut out for the role. It took me too long to realize that.” She raised her hands, halting whatever words he’d been about to say. “I want to go home. I miss my family. I want to see my niece and nephew grow up. I want to be there for my mom. I want a life that feels like mine. Not a role I’ve been cast in. I love you, and I know you love me, but it’s not enough. I’m sorry, Trapp. But you love me in your life. And it’s not one I had a hand in building.”

***

The smell of fried dough had overtaken the scent of sweet candy floss on the air when he returned to Main Street. Trapp wasn’t entirely sure he’d meant to do so, but his feet had moved on their own accord, turning him off Julia’s street and back toward the center of town without need of his brain’s interference.

That was for the best. His brain didn’t have much to contribute at that point.

He’d been dumped.

He’d never been dumped before, he realized. He’d never been on the other side of an it’s not you, it’s me conversation, and evidently didn’t possess the common sense of a gnat to realize that was why Julia had seemed so quiet, so distant.

It’s not me, it’s you. That was essentially what she’d told him. It’s definitely you. Even when his short-lived and ill-thought-out marriage to his med school girlfriend had fallen apart, they’d called it quits together.

As he climbed over one of the barricades, letting himself back into the park, the evening reassembled itself into something recognizable. Comfortable and safe. The glow of twinkle lights stretched between lampposts, the overlapping aromas of fried food and grilled meat drifting through the warm air, the yowling voice of a bushy-tailed gnoll as his band tore through an upbeat cover of a pop song.

Trapp sucked in a lungful of air, breathing in the smells and noise, trapping it in his lungs until his eyes spotted, exhaling in a rush. It was as if he’d re-entered a familiar bubble, one in which the previous thirty minutes didn’t exist.

Someone called out his name as they passed, and he responded with his megawatt grin, raising a big hand, the motion of it so practiced that it required almost no conscious participation at all. A smile at his brother’s fox-tailed assistant at City Hall, a grin and a cheeky wave to the satyr from Gildersnood; easy, automatic, always on cue. Smiles from passersby who all knew his name, which he returned in kind, the expression settling onto his face with the reliability of deeply ingrained muscle memory.

He paused at the lemonade stand, refilling a tray.

She was right. He did love this.

This was where he belonged. This was where he made sense. Trapp Hemming, everyone’s favorite handsome werewolf. Trapp Hemming, local hero. Trapp Hemming, everyone’s friend.

“Trapp, are we getting you on that dunk tank tonight? I just assumed they were saving the best for last, but you’ve got us on the ropes now.”

“How could I not? You’d better have those dollar bills ready, Humah. I’m not stripping down to my skivvies for nothing. You’d better spread the word before the ATM runs out of small bills.”

The sylvan laughed, and so did the minotaur and naiad beside her. Trapp let the sound wash over him as he moved on, smiling at the harpy from the nail salon and winking at the frogwoman from the library. The sound of his name came from several directions as he wove through the crowd. The weight of hearing it was familiar enough to feel grounding, reminding him of who he was, even as something in his chest remained slightly misaligned, like a door that had been shut too quickly and not quite latched.

“Hemming! You taking a turn on this thing and putting these females out of their misery?”

The lemonade tray emptied as soon as he deposited it on the surface of the table, giving Magruh the same cocky, affable grin. “Sure thing, Chief. We wouldn’t want the committee to get complaints.”

Trapp moved to the outside of the tent on the far end, the area he’d been avoiding since the afternoon, where the tank of cold hose water waited.

Vinlop was just climbing out of the water, his long, lapine ears clinging wetly to the sides of his narrow face, shivering as he pulled his soaked Cambric Creek Fire & Rescue t-shirt away from his body with a squelch.

Trapp stripped his own off in response. He would be cold in the water, but that didn’t mean he needed to stay cold once he was out.

This was where he belonged. This was where he made sense. And Julia was right, he thought, even if it pained him to admit it. This was the role he was happy with.

A burst of high laughter caught his attention as he handed Vinlop a towel — a cluster of sable-haired selkies, hands over their mouths, head bowed, whispering about him, clearly. The selkie in the center held his eye as she reached into her clutch, pulling out a fistful of bills meaningfully.

This is a fundraiser, right? Show a little skin for a good cause. Xenna was right. It was for a good cause, and how could he, the town golden boy, not do whatever he could to pitch in? The girls nudged each other as he kicked off his shoes and socks and undid the fly of his uniform pants, shucking off the navy twill until he stood in his snug boxer briefs.

Reframing a bad situation had been another lesson from his childhood. Politicians in spirit, if not by trade; every one of them. He wasn’t dumped. He wasn’t a bad boyfriend; he wasn’t intrinsically unlovable. That’s not what this was. He was Trapp Hemming, ascending the dunk tank platform, grinning when he heard Xenna whooping from the crowd.

And he was single for the first time in years.

Adriana