The Wrong Bond

ARLENE “L ife is f*****g peachy,” I said into the phone for the millionth time that night, even though I didn’t believe a single word. My life was far from peachy, and just thinking about it catapulted me into a loop of depression that I always had a hard time clawing my way out of. I was tired of being overworked, sad, and pessimistic. But most of all, I was tired of always being exhausted. I needed a break, but I would have more luck being a purebred than having a day off anytime soon. “Say it like you mean it,” Leah said. I sighed, pulling my jacket tighter around me. The sound of cars zooming past and the crickets’ distant hum filled the air. If my life was perfect, I would be cuddled up in bed right now with Coral, watching a crappy reality show about uptown wolves trying to find their fated mates. It would be awful, and we would laugh at the people who thought they could find their fated mate on television when there was a literal one percent chance of finding a fated mate out in the real world. But because my life wasn’t amazing, I walked down a dark, shady alley that smelled of garbage and urine as I headed to my night shift. I sighed. “My life is great.” It was hard to manifest anything positive when my life was on the verge of imploding. Work was literally hell, my rent was due, my car had suddenly decided to stop working, and Coral was sick. It was like the universe was having a laugh at my expense. I wished I could be all sunshine and rainbows like Leah, but Leah was like that because she didn’t know the first thing about struggling, and sometimes I wished that⁠— Nope, not tonight. I shook the disruptive thoughts out of my head. I took a deep, shaky breath and let it out, my exhale visible in the cold air. “Ally, you have to take this more seriously,” Leah said on the other end of the phone. I could picture her eyebrows furrowed together in a frown, and her lips jutting in a slight pout. “Leah, if I took things more seriously, I’d be an even bigger ball of stress,” I said, dodging a puddle on the sidewalk. “And I’m not sure my sanity can handle that.” This was our evening ritual. I wore my skimpiest skirt and a crop top under a huge coat as I strolled—practically waddled, because I was freezing—two blocks from my studio apartment to the bar, while Leah kept me company on the phone. We’d been doing this since I started working at the bar two years ago, and even though I always grumbled like I hated it, we both knew it was the best part of my evenings. Also, the Eltons were doing nothing to protect the downtown district, so crime had been rampant for a while. And Leah, as always, had pulled up a study which showed that people on the phone were less likely to be attacked than those who weren’t. I’d learned not to ask any questions about all the facts and studies she could recite off the top of her head—it was much easier to just go along with them. “You’re not taking this seriously.” I rolled my eyes. “What am I supposed to say?” “You’re supposed to say it like you mean it. You know, fake it until you make it. Manifestation works, I promise,” she whined. But I didn’t need words; I needed money, and a whole lot of it, to keep Coral and me afloat. To give her a fighting chance at life. Working five-hour shifts with tips that grew with the less clothing I had on wasn’t the best way to get her that life, but it was all I had. But yay, manifestation. I sighed for the hundredth time before saying, “My life is amazing.” As the words left my lips, a part of me believed it, but almost as quickly as the feeling crossed my mind, it disappeared. “See? How hard was that?” Very. I shrugged even though she couldn’t see me. “Not too hard.” Leah obviously took the bait and changed the topic, much to my relief. “So, how many hours is your shift tonight?” “I’m gunning for six to seven hours. But we’ll see how it goes.” “That’s a long time.” “Yep,” I agreed. “But someone’s gotta keep the drunks in line.” Leah snickered. “Yeah, Commander Arlene to the rescue.” I couldn’t help but grin. “Hey, they’re more scared of me than Connor, and he’s built like a tank.” “Then they’re smart to be scared. You’re a hybrid with a very short fuse.” I threw my head back and laughed as I kicked a loose pebble, watching it skitter across the sidewalk. “Thanks, Leah. I needed that. Sometimes it’s just…a lot, you know? The full moons, the transformation hangovers, trying to fit in when I’m not really one thing or another…” “I can only imagine. Well, you’ve always got me. Remember that.” “I definitely will.”