Page 66 of Full Moon Frenzy

His head snapped up. “What?”

Jack rolled his eyes, switching to one of the other, actual coffee mugs with a scowl. “Trapp, your brothers spent the night in custody because of you. You all look like you were in a prison yard brawl. I think they’re entitled to know whose honor they bled for.”

“How do you know there is someone?” He demanded, cursing a moment later, realizing he already knew. Fucking Tris. His father had likely received a daily play-by-play since the morning he’d stormed out of Adriana’s townhouse. “You know she’s not a wolf, right?” he challenged, already knowing too well how his father had felt about his human girlfriend.

Jack only shrugged. “Did you know that coyotes are the most successfully integrated were-species? They’re in every single state in the Unification, in every city. Country, suburbs, it doesn’t matter. They’ve fully adapted no matter where they live, in a way few weres have been able to. And they’re just tiny wolves, aren’t they?”

He dropped his head back, wincing as he did so. “I don’t know if it’s a good idea . . .”

His father sighed, closing his screen and facing Trapp fully. “Grayson said you’d be working it out with her and that if you did, she’d be permanent. Was he wrong? And you know, just in case you’re not already aware of this, but every time you all let him magic away your problems, he gets stronger, like a wizard. If that’s not the case, and she’s not someone of consequence, Tris is prepared to run an exposé on the clinic, highlighting the new doctor’s inability to—”

“If Tris ever writes a single fucking word about her, I will put his horns up his own ass.”

His father smiled, spreading his hands. “Perfect. I’ll let your mother know the extra place setting is necessary. Lunch is at two. We’ll see you both then.”

Adriana

The house was massive. Adriana leaned forward, her fingers white-knuckled around the steering wheel of his truck, feeling her lungs hitch at the sight of the castle-like brick structure.

She’d dressed her best for the occasion . . . or, at least, the best she was able to manage. She had taken to heart the advice of the woman she’d met outside the leathergoods store, and had paid attention to the clothes worn by the trendy mothers who brought their children into the clinic. Copy until it’s natural. The poplin shirt dress she wore had the same architectural sleeves and eyelet detail she’d seen on several of those sleek sylvans and selkies, and it felt appropriate for the occasion.

The gold bracelet on her wrist was antique-looking, from the same thrift shop where she’d found her leather bag. Her flats were the same camel color as the bag, brand-new, uncreased and clean. Her nails were kept short because of work, but she’d painted them a neutral buff color that same morning, after Trapp had returned to his house, breaking the news that she was expected to be at his side at his parents’ house that same afternoon.

He’d laughed when she’d panicked, insisting she needed to go home to prepare, but she’d not been joking. She’d deep conditioned her hair with the expensive bottle of product purchased from the she-wolf’s recommended salon, shaved her legs and painted her nails, and then stared into the mirror for what felt like a small, panicked eternity, wondering if there was enough Xanax in the world that could calm her jangling nerves as she tried to transform herself into someone who might be worthy of perfect, handsome Trapp Hemming.

Every breath felt tight, trapped in her chest. Ahead, the driveway seemed to stretch on forever, a winding ribbon of concrete with a decorative trim, and the house beyond was like a fairytale fortress. Images of her own childhood home flashed unbidden behind her eyes — the rusted aluminum siding, the smell of damp particleboard every time it rained, and the way the whole structure shuddered whenever a heavy truck passed by. Adriana was well-acquainted with the sort of people who lived in homes like this one, and knew all too well what they thought of the people who’d grown up in homes like hers.

Beside her, Trapp looked completely at ease. The scrape on his jaw had begun to bruise, and the whole side of his face above his cheekbone was engulfed in sickly purple-green, but other than his outward injuries, he didn’t appear as if he were in danger of shaking apart in nerves over this meeting, which she found to be a bit of a betrayal. He didn’t understand the bone-deep shame of poverty, and he never would.

When she had woken alone in his bed that morning, it had taken her several panicked moments to remember that it was, in fact, his bed. She’d not been ghosted. She’d not been left alone, the victim of a cruel prank. She didn’t know where he’d gone, but it was reasonably safe to assume that he was not going to abandon his house, and that he would be coming back.

It gave her plenty of time to spiral in private.

What are you doing? You hate Trapp Hemming. You’ve hated him for fifteen years. Are you just going to pretend that never happened? Maybe so, she’d challenged her reflection in his bathroom mirror. After all, once, she’d been in love with Trapp Hemming, long before she’d ever hated him. She didn’t know if they would actually be able to make it work this time around and was certain she’d never risk her heart again with anyone else if it didn’t, but she was willing to try.

He doesn’t have any reason to trust you, either. You both need to let the past go. She’d apologized for her role in their past hurts, and he’d apologized to her. Neither had groveled. Neither had begged. They could start again on even footing, or not at all. Either I’ll see you at my wedding, or I never want to see you again. She’d never been to a fancy wedding, Adriana considered, but it might be fun to experience one. That is, if that’s what he wants. She hadn’t had to wait long to find out.

“You’re not supposed to be driving,” she had told him upon his arrival, before he had even stepped through his own front door. “And you know that! No operating heavy machinery!”

“Then it’s a good thing there’s a trolley stop right around the corner, isn’t it?”

He’d dropped to the sofa, his head falling back, eyes closing. For a long moment, she watched him lie there, memorizing the contours of his face. She wasn’t braced for his words.

“I think we need to talk.”

Her heart had fallen. Never in the history of conversations had a conversation ever gone well that was preceded by ‘We need to talk’. You should just leave now, while you can still save face.

His eyes opened. “Do you want to give us another try? I know that’s a complete one-eighty from three days ago. I feel silly even saying it out loud, to be honest. But . . . I feel like we need to be honest with each other from the get-go. So that we’re not bringing any more confusion into this. And I do. Want to try again, I mean.”

“Confusion . . .”

His eyes narrowed. “Confusion, Adi. You know, like the way I chased you for a whole semester in school and you never noticed? The way we spent all of our time together for an entire year, slept together, studied together, ate together, fucked every day, did everything together, but you thought we were just study partners? That kind of confusion.”

Her face screwed up in a scowl, hackles rising. Should have bit him on the balls when you had the chance. “Yeah, I think that’s a good idea. Let’s spell things out very clearly. Because obviously your version of ‘asking someone out’ isn’t rooted in anything that resembles straightforward conversations.”

He snorted, wincing as he did so. “Fine. Would you, Adriana Brunelli, be interested in pursuing a romantic relationship with me, Trapp Hemming? Blink twice for yes.”

He dodged the pillow she swung at him, chuckling, holding his side to support his bruised body. Moment of truth. She thought about her younger self, anxious, awkward, desperate for acceptance, to prove that she was worthy enough to be there, completely infatuated with Trapp Hemming. This wasn’t the tandem career daydream she’d harbored for so long . . . but maybe it was better.