It was 2:30 in the morning when Sawyer trudged up the shoddy back steps to her shitty little apartment above the bar. Originally, there were only two apartments, but about ten years ago Harvey decided to chop them in half and charge more money. Two units were rented by college students, one by the bar cook Gogo, and the other by Sawyer.

She unlocked the main door and trudged down the narrow hallway, skirting around two bikes propped up against the wall. After checking her mailbox (nothing but bills), Sawyer entered the apartment, locked the door behind her, and collapsed onto the couch without turning on the lights.

Goddess, she sighed, leaning her head back, eyes closed in exhaustion. For five long years, she tried to forget Caleb, but her heart wouldn't let her. Seeing him again brought about as many painful memories as good ones.

"So—it's true!"

It didn't take much to conjure up the raw fury in Alpha Owen's voice when he found them lying together on the hill, Caleb's hand under her shirt as they kissed.

"Gramps—" Poor Caleb—he had started to get up, but his grandfather backhanded him so hard he crashed to the ground. Sawyer could still see the bright red blood spilling from the cut on his lower lip; watched as his eyelids fluttered as he struggled to remain conscious.

"How long have you been fucking this faerie whore?" Alpha Owen had demanded, stalking towards his grandson with blazing orange eyes.

She had screamed and tried to run towards Caleb, but Alpha Owen reached out and grabbed her by the upper arm, nails painfully piercing her skin.

On the couch, Sawyer winced, heart beating faster as she remembered the exact moment she turned her head and saw that Alpha Owen now towered above her, seven feet of snarling, drooling werewolf. His claws dug deeper into her arm, little rivers of blood rolling down her bicep to splatter on the grass.

"Gramps ..." Caleb had wheezed, levering himself up on one arm. "Let her go ..."

"All faeries do is ruin lives," the alpha had thundered, lifting Sawyer up by her arm. His eyes were two orange suns, lips pulled back from three-inch-long fangs. "I warned the Bloodmoons about bringing this girl into their home, but they wouldn't listen. Now I find that she's seduced my grandson!"

White-hot pain had raced up and down Sawyer's arm. She could feel the claws tearing deep into muscle and closing in on bone. "I love him!" she had screamed.

But that had been the wrong thing to say. Alpha Owen turned the full fury of his orange eyes on her, fangs gleaming in the late spring sun. "You love him?" he had mocked, lupine jaws twisting the words. "You are nothing, girl—nothing! Just a lying, scheming whore. And I will see to it that—"

But he never got to finish his threat. Sawyer had shrieked and lashed out with her free hand, full of pain and terror, zapping the werewolf with all of her electrical defenses. The alpha dropped her and staggered backward, howling, as all of his fur stood on end, subtly smoking.

Clutching her injured arm to her side, Sawyer had summoned her wings and fled the area—soon to flee to the very edge of Hecate City where no one would find her.

Until tonight.

Sawyer heaved a huge, shuddering sigh and brushed at the tears that rolled down her cheeks with the flats of her palms. Goddess.

Why did they have to find her? Why?

Because your life is a shit show, that annoying voice in the back of her mind calmly reminded her.

It was true—there was no denying it; she barely had enough money to survive. Most of her paycheck every week went right back into Harvey's pocket as rent; what remained paid for water and electricity—both of which were not included in her renter's agreement—and food. She was lucky she wasn't homeless.

But, werewolves were the dominant species in Hecate City. Alpha Owen had seen to it that his people prospered while the other races floundered. Sure, she could go home, but she was still a faerie surrounded by werewolves—most of whom had a superiority complex and inflated ego, courtesy of their alpha. Trying to get through trade school had been bad enough—to now navigate that snake pit as an adult?

Sawyer shook her head. She'd rather deal with human truckers who had no concept of female bodily autonomy.

Except—

Except there was Caleb.

There had been a time when she couldn't envision the rest of her life without him. He'd become Hecate City's Fire Chief and Sawyer would run a successful wholesale plant business. They'd live in this cute two-story house with a big backyard, a massive garden, and two kids. (Girls, Caleb insisted. "Boys are little shits," he'd said.) Those had been their dreams. So much for hers, right? She could only hope that Caleb had found some way of reaching his goal.

More tears flowed as her weary mind started going down a different path—one where she had been so full of hope and optimism. Stop, she thought, clamping down hard on those happier times. Misery lived at the end of the road. Getting to her feet, Sawyer wandered through the bare apartment to her shitty little bed and fell onto it, not even bothering to brush her teeth.

Caleb, her heart whispered as she fell asleep, clutching her thin sheets, wishing that they were his arms.

------------

Come eight o'clock at night the next day, neither her brother nor Caleb had shown up. Had both werewolves listened to her and were going to leave her alone?

Part of her was relieved; the other part kept glancing at the door, waiting for one or both to walk through.

Tonight, the bar was strangely busy—and by busy, there were ten people in the building simultaneously. Most were seated at the tables, a couple played pool in the corner, and two men were at the bar. Sawyer ran back and forth, taking food and drink orders; she was so distracted that she didn't notice the door swing open until the three human men approached the bar.

Tired as she was, all these customers represented some good tips. "What'll it be, gentlemen?" she asked, a polite smile on her face.

"How much for a bottle of whiskey?" one of them asked. They looked to be related—brothers, probably—with the same sandy blond hair, thin noses, and washy complexions. With their short haircuts, button-up pastel shirts, khakis, and Midwestern accents, they were not from around here.

Sawyer told them the price. "We'll take the whole thing," the man said, digging in his pocket for his wallet.

She nodded and turned to pull down an unopened bottle when the youngest of the three snickered and said, "Remember to use your words, baby."

That set the brothers laughing; it was high-pitched and childish but cut straight through her. Sawyer paused, cheeks flushing pink, her hand halfway to the shelf. She despised those words.

"Words, baby," the boy repeated, sniggering.

"Does she look three to you?"

Sawyer almost dropped the bottle. She pivoted on the mat and saw Caleb standing behind the brothers, hands in his pockets and a frown on his face.

As a unit, the brothers swiveled on their stools. The two other men at the bar—both werewolves—scooted towards the far end as quickly as possible, putting as much distance between them and an alpha-descended male as they could.

"What?" the youngest brother replied, looking Caleb up and down with a sneer. They really must have been from out of town, because no man—werewolf, faerie, merfolk, or human—would have the balls to speak like that to a Stillwater.

"You heard me. Do you have any idea how ridiculous you sound? She's a grown woman, not a toddler trying to figure out how to express herself. She doesn't owe you a goddamn thing."

While Sawyer could only see the backs of their heads at this point, two out of the three were starting to squirm. But the youngest had no brains because he retorted with a challenge, "And who are you? Her boyfriend or something?"

Sawyer's mouth formed a small "O". Boyfriend ... Over the tops of the brothers' heads, Caleb's eyes found hers. Before she could say anything, he turned his attention to the humans.

"I'm just a guy who doesn't like to see other men treat women like garbage," he said, pulling his hands from his pockets and folding his arms across his broad chest.

"Elijah," the middle brother hissed, elbowing the youngest. "Do you see how huge this guy is? He could snap us like twigs, so cut it out."

Caleb continued to glower. Not wanting this pissing contest to turn into yet another tab she had to pay, Sawyer leaned over and placed the bottle of whiskey on the bar, and slid three glasses next to it. "Why don't you three boys take this over to a table?"

"Yeah, we'll do that," the oldest one said, grabbing the bottle. The middle brother took the glasses in one hand and hauled the youngest to his feet, dragging him past Caleb.

"Tell her you're sorry before he breaks you, man."

Glancing up at Caleb, who was much taller than he imagined, the youngest brother paled. "S-sorry," he stammered before following his siblings to a corner by a street-facing window.

Sawyer sighed and shook her head, making a note on her pad. She better get a good tip after this.

"I shouldn't have spoken for you like that."

She looked up to see Caleb sliding onto one of the free bar stools. As he moved, she caught a whiff of a familiar scent.

"Are you wearing the cologne I bought you?" she blurted out, completely forgetting about everything else. The rest of the bar simply faded into the background.

"Yeah," he chuckled softly, adjusting his seat. "It's not too much, is it? I can never tell."

"No," she breathed. She'd bought it on impulse while shopping with her mother after she and Caleb had decided to officially become a couple. He'd worn it the night they'd lost their virginity together and every day after that. "I can't believe you still have some left."

"I stopped wearing it after you ..."

"Fled?" she asked wryly. Escaped into the night with only a note telling her parents that she was sorry, but she couldn't stay there anymore? Yeah.

Caleb sighed and reached out for her hand where it rested on the counter. "Savvy ..."

Butterflies erupted in her belly at his touch, his scent mixed with the cologne swirling through the air. Savvy. Lee had trouble pronouncing "Sawyer" when they were kids, so she became "Savvy" or "Sav". Everyone used it, but when Caleb said it, there was a whole different meaning to the nickname. It was a term of endearment, a whisper against her neck as they made love, a plea as she escaped his grandfather.

Everything that she had tried to suppress came crashing down on her with full force: Their first kiss, those awkward fumblings, the two weeks when they snuck out and made love in the woods where his grandfather wouldn't find them.

Sawyer ducked her head, tears pricking her eyes as the heady scent of Caleb's cologne weaved its magic. Goddess, she'd never stopped loving him.

Caleb's hand tightened on hers. "Savvy."

"Miss? Our order?"

Sawyer's head snapped up and she quickly dashed the tears away. "I'm sorry, I'll be right there," she called out to the couple by the pool table. She turned on the rubber mat, but Caleb's fingers were still entwined with hers.

"When do you get off work?"

"Bar closes at one, but I'm usually here until two-thirty cleaning up."

"Can we talk then?"

She looked down at their hands. How could such a simple gesture feel so right after so long apart? Swallowing, Sawyer nodded. "If you want to stick around, you'll have to order something. Harvey says this isn't a coffee shop."

"I'll order everything if that's what it takes," he promised, a slight flicker of orange in his gaze.

"Okay," she whispered and slipped free to attend to customers, the scent of his cologne staying with her like a comforting blanket.