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She examined it under the cabin light before shaking her head. “Sloane, this is literal plastic. You can see the manufacturing seam running down the middle.”

“The description said genuine,” I defended weakly.

“You’re a graphic designer. How did you not spot the molding seam?” She giggled and handed it back to me.

“I chose to practice selective observation.”

“Anything else?”

“I started working out,” I said, looking down at my skinny, non-muscular legs. “I figured wolves probably had incredible cardio stamina, and I wanted to be able to walk up the stairs to my apartment without sounding like a broken vacuum cleaner.”

“That’s surprisingly practical. I’ll send you some training intervals I like to do a few times a week. They’ll kick your ass. Okay, what else did you do?”

“Well, I’ve been eating more,” I added. “Hudson started sending my reminders back to me, so I’ve had to take photos of actual, well-balanced meals to prove I’m being a responsible adult.”

“That’s disgustingly sweet,” she cooed.

“And I researched everything,” I continued, ignoring her. “Pack hierarchy, lunar cycles, scent blockers, and whether wolves can actually hear heartbeats.”

“We can,” she confirmed.

My eyes widened. “Oh, God. Do you think Hudson could hear mine tonight? When he told me about the run and I panicked?”

“Probably,” Patty said.

I covered my face, absolute horror coursing through me. “I’m leaving the country. I’ll move to a remote island.”

“You’re not leaving.” She laughed as she pulled back onto the highway.

We drove in comfortable silence for another mile before she asked, “Do you have any friends back in the city, Sloane?”

The question caught me off guard. “I have you.”

“That is very sweet, but also a massive evasion.”

I shrugged, looking out at the dark trees. “I talk to people. Regularly.”

“Clients don’t count as a social circle,” she said.

“I know.” I sighed. “I used to have my cousin, Missy. We were more like best friends than family growing up.”

“What happened?”

“She changed,” I said, though the words felt incredibly hollow as I spoke them. I thought of her unread messages on my phone, her gentle, persistent attempts to reach out to me, and how I had always blamed our distance on some vague shift in her life.

“How did she change?” Patty asked.

“Her life moved forward,” I muttered.

“And yours didn’t?”

The question stung. Crossing my arms, I looked away. “That sounded a little judgmental.”

Patty let the silence stay in the car, forcing me to sit with the thought.

“Things just got complicated,” I finally muttered.

Patty pulled the Mustang into the brightly lit parking lot of a fast-food restaurant, the neon sign illuminating the interior of the car.