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“That’s good.”

“But you lied to me.”

“I didn’t lie.”

“You weren’t truthful.”

“It’s complicated.”

“Try me.”

She sighs. “Not now, okay? I’m not ready.”

“That’s even more cryptic. I don’t get it. I was honest with you about . . . you know, my whole deal. Why can’t you just tell me?”

She twists the bag closed. “Let’s go inside. It’s freezing.”

I help her up.

“I know you’re the one who fucked up Matty’s shoulder.”

I consider denying it.

“He didn’t tell me. He’s suddenly wearing a sling and wouldn’t say what happened. Seth told me.”

Have to say, newfound respect for Matty for not ratting me out.

“It was an accident,” I say. “I swear.”

“Okay.”

She drops onto the couch, puts her feet up on a pillow. I sit on the floor between the couch and the coffee table.

“You’re really not going to tell me why you kicked him out?”

“Just . . . take it easy on him,” she says. “Please?”

“Seriously?”

“Let’s watch TV. Take this candy away or I’ll eat it all.”

I do as she asks.

“You want something to drink?” I call from the kitchen.

“No, I’m okay,” she says. “I’ve got water.”

I spot a note on the counter. It’s in Scarlett’s neat handwriting. My name is at the top. Then an address. A date. A time. Another name.

A doctor.

“Hey, what’s this note?” I ask.

“I made an appointment for you with the therapist I mentioned.”

“Why do you think I need to see a therapist?”

“Why do you think you’re a werewolf?”