The Wolf in Sheep's Skin

Chapter 41

“If they’re there when he comes in, which in my experience, he will, he’ll get the wrong idea. You might want to get rid of them.” Maeve pointed at the flowers, grimacing. I chewed my inner cheek and fidgeted with my hands.

She’s right. If he sent flowers, he’ll come looking for me eventually. And he’ll probably come here, not to the house. I could picture him walking in here, seeing them. The smug look he’d have. The little curve of his lips, the playful sparkle in his eye.

My heart skipped a beat and my tummy fluttered.

I scowled, and my heart ached. I have to throw them away. All of it. It’s for the best.

I straightened my spine and held my head up high. I held my hand out to Quinn, motioning towards the note.

“I’ll have to get rid of all of it.” My throat was tight, but my voice was surprisingly clear.

Quinn frowned at the little paper in her hand, and sighed as she handed it over to me. I snatched it up, shoved it in my pocket, and went to the counter. Grabbing the bouquet and box was a challenge, but I managed.

“Do you want help?” Maeve asked, stepping closer.

“No!” I snapped. She recoiled, and I groaned at myself. “I mean, I can handle it. But can you open the door?”

She did as I asked, giving me wary looks. I strode out of the shop with my head up high and my arms full. The door closed behind me, and I walked around the building.

My heart hammered in my chest, each of my footsteps was deafening. I focused on my feet, making sure I wouldn’t trip. The flowers and wrapped box were heavy in my hands. Like stones, holding the weight of the world.

I stopped in front of the dumpster. My heart ached with each beat, and the hole in my stomach was ugly, festering. Eating away at my core, like it would sink on itself, consuming me.

I shook with each heartbeat. It was all I could hear. The sound of my blood, coursing through my veins, as I stared at the hideous, overflowing trash.

Why couldn’t he understand? It would’ve been so much easier.

I kept imagining having to tell him. Having him come in the shop. The pained look on his face. I could smell his pain as clearly as when I’d run away.

I ground my teeth together, gripping the box and vase tight to me.

Get it over with. You can’t be with him.

I forced myself to think of the other option. Of being with him. Him finding out about Lilith. Her lack of control, her love for hunting.

Of him having to deal with me.

Tears streamed down my face, and my lips quivered. I let out a harsh breath and stepped forward. Gingerly, I set the flowers in the dumpster. The vase rested on heaps of trash bags.

A sob broke out from throat, and I squeezed the box in both hands. The roses were so desolate, so lonely amongst the trash. My heart squeezed like someone had shoved their hand in my chest, trying to rip it out.

My hands shook and tears dropped onto the box. The spots where they landed made the pink fabric darker.

Time froze and I stared at the box. It matched the flowers. Bright pink, with soft fabric on the outside in a fancy pattern. A matching pink ribbon was wrapped around it.

Don’t open it. It’ll only make it worse.

But before I could finish the thought, I had already pulled at the bow. The ribbon slipped off, and I tucked it into my pocket. My heart raced and my hands shook as I pulled the top of the box off.

I groaned, the hole in my stomach eating away at me as I stared into the box. Little orange shaped cookies stared back up at me. They were perfectly shaped, with orange tinted sugar crystals on top.

My vision blurred, and I stared up at the sky, closing my eyes.

He had to, didn’t he?

I could almost taste them. Bright, sweet citrus. Fresh, warm, like the orange we’d had.

Like his lips had been.

I let out another sob, a grotesque sound. I forced my eyes open and urged myself to move. To do something, to toss the box into the trash, drop it on the ground, or smash it in my hands. But I couldn’t move, like my body had a mind of it’s own.

You can’t have them. You can’t eat them. You can’t have him. I kept replaying the words in my head. But my skin itched and crawled, and the hole in my core grew as my heart ached.

I let out a growl, loud and shrill. I went past the dumpster, to the wall. I slammed my back against the wall, sliding down it ‘til I sat on my *ss. I pulled my legs to my chest, resting the box on my knees.

I wiped my eyes, staring into the box at the horrible, cute cookies. I sniffled, shoving my face in the box, trying to sniff them.

But I couldn’t smell anything.

I shoved a whole cookie in my mouth and chewed. Sweet tangy orange burst in my mouth, spreading over every taste bud. I groaned and my eyes flittered closed.

I could taste him from that day. Could almost feel his lips against mine. His skin against me, his soft voice whispering in my ears. I shoved another in my mouth, glaring at the cookies.

St*pid cookies! St*pid man!

Making things difficult, with his st*pid handsome face!

I wanted to scream, to throw the cookies away. But I kept eating them, shoving them in my mouth like a mad woman. Hot, angry tears wet my cheeks, going down my neck.

Soon, the box was empty. I sighed in relief but shook the box like more would appear. Why? Why couldn’t I throw the d*mn things away?

I scowled at the box and wished he was here so I could yell at him. Tell him to keep his d*mn cookies to himself.

My face softened and I sighed, leaning my head against the wall behind me. My arms went limp, barely holding onto the box.

I can’t be like this. Maeve was right. I’m melty.

I pictured all the times I’d sent men away. Easily, without pain. I snorted at my new behavior. I guess I was wrong. I am like some sniveling schoolgirl. I groaned and rubbed my eyes.

Am I sure about this? Maybe there’s some way to make things work?

I thought about that day, when we’d kissed. He said my wolf was small. Did he do something?

I tried to think, but I hadn’t gained any memories of what had happened. It doesn’t make sense. What could he have done?

I thought about asking for the millionth time since that day. What he meant by all of it. Her being small; her doing things, as if I should just let her loose. I squeezed my eyes shut and clenched my jaw.

I can’t ask. It would only raise more questions. Then I’d have to tell him about her. And then what do I say?

I can’t control my wolf? She enjoys hunting too much? That my dad has to stop her from hurting people when she gets mad?

My stomach twisted, and the cookies threatened to come up. My dad had made it clear when I was young what happened to out of control wolves. And I’d heard plenty of stories since to confirm it.

That out-of-control wolves weren’t allowed.

I let out a slow, shaky breath. Talking to him would be too risky. I can’t.

I pursed my lips and stared at the box. But he’s going to keep coming around. I’ll have to tell him we can’t be together. What do I say? That I don’t want him? I chewed my bottom lip.

He’d sniff out that lie right away. I thought back to our previous conversations, and the time’s when he’d caught me in lies. My cheeks warmed and my heart fluttered. That won’t work. He seems like the type to need a real answer.

I mulled it over in my head, but everything I thought of had some kind of hint of truth to it. The sky started to darken, and I knew eventually Maeve would come looking for me.

I sighed and got up, wiping my eyes.

He’s not here now. I’ll have to think of something later. My arms hung at my sides, and I dragged my feet to the dumpster. Tears threatened to escape at the sight of the flowers. Their bright, cheery pink was painful against the black bags of trash.

I sighed and tossed the empty box into the trash. I chewed my bottom lip, letting the silk ribbon flow between my fingers.

Maeve always uses the flowers she gets as decoration for the shop. Even the ones from men she doesn’t stay with. Says it’s wrong to waste the flowers.

I could keep them, couldn’t I? Just use them for decoration? A smile crossed my lips, and the stabbing pain in my heart eased. I sighed, content on my decision, and shoved the ribbon in my pocket.

I gently grabbed the vase out of the trash, holding it away from me. I went back to the door, going into the shop.

Maeve and Quinn were huddled together. They turned to me as I walked in, their mouths open like they’d been whispering together. Maeve’s eyes dropped to the flowers before raising them, giving me a questioning look.

“It’d be a shame to waste such lovely flowers. They’re brighten the shop.” I gave her a small smile, and walked past before she could argue.

I went into the little bathroom that was in the back of the shop. It has a counter with a sink. A large mirror was hung on the wall above the sink. I recoiled at my own reflection as I set the vase down on the counter. My eyes were red and my face was blotchy. My shirt was wet from crying. At least I didn’t try and tell them I’m fine.

I scrubbed the outside of the vase with soap, removing the grim from the dumpster. After I was sure it was clean, I washed my hands. Cool water collected in my cusped hands, and I rinsed my face. I closed my eyes, letting the cool water calm my nerves.

After I dried my face, I grabbed the vase and I went back out into the front, setting it on the counter. I kept my back to them, keeping their worried faces out of view.

“Are you sure that’s a good idea?” Maeve asked, her voice low like she hesitated asking.

No. But it’s better than thinking of them in the trash.

“Yes. You do it all the time, they’re just for décor.” I smiled at the roses, rearranging them, making the bouquet nice and fluffy.

But the hole in my core grew, eating away at me. I clenched my jaw together, forcing down tears that threatened to escape.

It’s for the best. I’ll be fine.

Eventually.