I deleted a line of text, scrunched up my forehead, and rewrote it.
As soon as I’d gotten home from grandmother’s long term care facility, I’d started drafting my letter of resignation from the pack. She was right. I’d been hesitating and delaying long enough, and now I needed to take some action. If I left now, I’d be able to get far enough away to set up a new life before anyone realized I was pregnant.
If I waited any longer, I risked all my secrets coming out.
I was trying to get the wording right and figure out how to suggest we address the issue of how much money I still owed the pack. I had a suggestion for a payment plan, but was still struggling with language about why I was leaving.
Everything I wrote made me sound like a spurned lover.
Which I was, but Hunter wouldn’t
