“Werewolf saved the day, like I said.”

And now, I’m thinking about Warner coming to my rescue.

Right after he stripped down to his briefs. Guess that last bit of fabric tore off like Hulk’s shirt when Warner shifted.

The replay of the fight flashes through my mind, and my humor fades at the memory of claws and teeth and blood.

I’m not hurt. Not really. But he was sporting some major lacerations.

And what about infection?

Can werewolves get sick? Can they catch rabies?

I open my mouth to ask my mom, but then slowly close it. For some reason, getting intel from her almost seems wrong.

If I want to learn about werewolves, I should go straight to the source.

That is, if he’ll forgive me for treating him like a pariah after he saved my life.

“Well, you were lucky one of the pack was nearby. They tend to only hang around their own kind.”

That spikes my curiosity, but I’ve already made my decision about who to bring my questions to. Maybe if Warner refuses to talk to me, I’ll reconsider pumping my mom for info.

But right now, I have some groveling to do.

“I know. I was lucky. I’m sorry, but I have to let you go, Mom. I need to meet up with someone.”

“Wait …” She pauses for a stretch. “How are you feeling?” Mom clears her throat. “There, I mean. You’re … okay?”

Her hesitation speaks to how worried she is for my mental well-being.

I don’t see a point in rehashing the last few days of my shocked zombie state, so I give her the current truth. “I’m fine. This is helpful, I think. Being on my own for a bit.”

“Oh, okay. Well, I miss you.”

“You already said that.” I smile.

“I could say it ten more times, and it still wouldn’t cover it. You’ve left me outnumbered. It’s all men, all the time.”

I chuckle. “Even if I were there, they’d still have the majority.”

She rattles on a bit longer about my brothers and my father before we finally hang up.

As I climb down from the tree house, my brain is already strategizing.

Guilt sits like a heavy muck, coating my heart. The way I reacted, maybe it would be understandable to some, but I pride myself on how open-minded I can be.

That night, I treated Warner like a freak.

The need to apologize tugs me toward Pine Falls, but I resist the urge, instead returning to the cabin. Words aren’t enough to make this right. He needs to know I’m not saying some empty platitude.

Plus, there’s the whole thank-you-for-saving-my-life situation.

That werewolf had better brace himself for a Gunner apology.

26

ZOEY

I’m wearing a dress. Which means I shaved my legs.

Do werewolves care about shaved legs?