Morning came quickly and easily. I woke up with my head nestled on Ryder's chest, his arm wrapped around my waist. Even with his snoring, there was magic in the simple moment. And I wasn't strong enough to end his magic just yet. I slipped out of his hold slowly, taking extra care not to wake him. Despite our previous encounters, I was still a little too shy to undress and redress with him in the room – sleeping or not-- so I opted to change in the washroom.

A quick trip to the grocery store was propelled by my dream. Who said that we couldn't share a breakfast? Would the world not wait for us?

When I entered my home, my arms loaded with reusable tote bags, Ryder must have still been sleeping because the house was still. And I killed all the silence by playing Abba on my cheap sound system and pulling out my favorite pan. Soon, the kitchen was filled with sounds: the crackle of hot butter, the pop of a toaster, the steady drip of my coffee maker that would make anyone at the café gag.

By the time Ryder rolled out of the bedroom, I was placing the English muffin on top of his breakfast sandwich with microgreen, swiss cheese and pastrami.

His tee-shirt still had creases from where it had been folded in the duffle bag. His dark hair was sticking up at wild angles while he used the heel of his hand to rub one of his eyes.

My only thought was that I needed to tuck this sweet creature right back into my bed, pull the blanket up to his chin and kiss his forehead.

"You're making breakfast?" he asked sleepily.

"I couldn't stomach eating takeout again," I said, trying to shake the sap that was making me feel all sticky and sweet.

All of the drowsiness left Ryder. He looked at my little sandwiches and the two cups of coffee, his silver eyes narrowed into focus. "Thank you, Georgia."

I hated the reverence of his tone. I hated the way he seemed to be stunned by something so simple, something that would have been so common it was almost expected amongst other couples. It was a reminder that my little fantasy was not true.

"Do you have a contact for Milo that we can use?" he continued, a final knock to shatter the world I had created this morning. "I don't think he would appreciate us dropping in repeatedly."

"I think so." I moved across the kitchen and pulled open one of the cabinets. It seemed retro at the time, but I had written down the cellphone numbers of a few hunters and taped this one the inside of the cabinet door. I had felt silly doing it because I couldn't fathom a time when I wouldn't have my cellphone contacts. But there was Milo's number, waiting.

"We should call him as soon as possible. We don't have a lot of time as is."

Milo declined the call from Ryder's cellphone almost immediately. I left a brief voicemail and got a call back instantly. He apologized for not answering and I laughed it off, even though part of me wished this number hadn't worked at all. It wouldn't have mattered really, Ryder wasn't the type to let hiccups stop him. I asked to meet up as soon as possible and when Milo told me he was busy for the next couple of days, I knew better than to press. I didn't want to come off as pushy or overly eager. Even if Milo was not the target, it didn't change that he was a hunter and that Ryder was very much a werewolf. The last thing I wanted was to have Milo asking too many questions.

Ryder and I had two days to kill. We ate breakfast in front of the television, our conversation limited. Whatever I had felt this morning left so after he finished eating, I put our dishes in the sink and bowed out to go see my parents. It was all the vacant stares and the occasional gurgle. I was there early enough to have morning coffee with them, prepping their beverages just the way they liked.

And I found some surprising words dribbling out of my mouth.

"I thought that I was doing the right thing," I whispered to both of them and neither of them. "When Dawn and Armond found me, all I wanted was to make someone pay for what had happened to you guys. I went through all of the training, hated every second of it. Then, when I was finally sent of my first kill and I shot that arrow and I brought that wolf down, I felt nothing. I wanted to know that I had done something. I wanted to feel like I had healed myself. But I felt absolutely nothing. I just kept doing and doing it because..."

Because I had been waiting for that feeling to come. Because going out and hunting, going to team meetings, it had given me a purpose. It had pulled me out of the dark, unending hole I had crawled into. It had given me a family when I had lost my own. And those things were stronger than the illness that swept over me when I watched the spark of life float out of a wolf's eyes.

"When I think about another hunter finding Ryder—" I couldn't even bear to visualize it. the words felt like they were constricting my throat.

"Ryder?" my mom repeated, her eyes focusing onto me.

I stalled for a second, my mind unable to process that my mother was actually speaking to me, had actually repeated something I had said to her. "Yes, Ryder."

"You finally found a boy, then. A nice one, I hope. Not like those kids you dated in college," she continued.

I watched her attention fade. I watched whatever recognition she had leave her mind. She went back to mindlessly slurping her orange pekoe tea, spilling a little bit on her blouse.

Ryder was certainly not like the irresponsible, one track-minded boys I had flounced between in high school and college. He didn't drive a car that his daddy paid for, didn't wear a fake watch to impress. Ryder's confidence didn't come from his things, from his social statis. His smile wasn't earned with careless flirtations or simple compliments.

I think my mom would have liked him. Well, she wouldn't have liked that he didn't wear SPF every day, but she would have seen past it.

I said goodbye to both of my parents and apologized again to the sweet receptionist, then I returned home.

Ryder looked like he was about to explode off the couch when I entered the house. He was still on the couch where I had left him but his knee was bouncing a thousand miles a minute and he was trying so hard to win whatever game he was playing I was concerned for the safety of the controller.

"Are you winning?" I asked.

"No, I'm getting worse. My focus is gone," he admitted, pausing the game. "This is the longest I've ever sat still. I'm used to driving from pack to pack, doing rounds, meeting new people, going through training sessions. Being stagnant is...hard."

"Well, if you want, we can go out for a hike," I suggested.

"I thought you didn't hike or that—"

"I lied," I interjected, wincing a little. "A lot of the hikes are in werewolf territory and I didn't want to risk anything. But, since it's all out in the open now and since I know that you're a werewolf, we can go."

That was all it took to get him up and out. I drove us to a small, easy hike in the area that ended at a cute little waterfall. It was smooth going and relatively flat until we neared the falls. There, it took a little bit of clear rock hopping. Ryder, being as tall as he was, could extend those long legs and move about easily. I occasionally had to take run-ins to give my jump enough momentum to clear the winding creek. And sometimes, Ryder extended a hand towards me and helped me cross gaps.

By the end of the hike, my hand stayed permanently clasped with his.

We cooked supper together. he didn't complain about how I blared Celine Dion and other songs that reminded me of my mother. I didn't mind how he always seemed to be in my way or that he accidentally over-cooked my steaks. We ate at my tiny dining room set and he told me about how his mom and dad used to travel around the country sometimes to follow their favorite rock bands. Apparently, they were big fans of Kiss and The Foo Fighters. I liked the thought of his parents being such free, fun loving people.

There was no conversation around sleeping in the same bed again. I didn't have a second pair of sexy velvet shorts, but he stroked his hands over the terry cloth as if it were the finest silk. He told me he liked my special pillow cases. I told him I liked the way he held me in the middle of the night. I almost fell apart when he pressed a gentle kiss to the back of my neck.

Too bad my night was filled with imagines of me perched in a tree, firing arrow after arrow into a massive black wolf. And when I climbed down the tree to inspect the wolf, Ryder's silver eyes shone up at me.

I shook the thoughts out of my head as soon as my eyes parted. His arm was around me and he was very much alive. The day played out much like the previous. Breakfast and coffee together with a side of idle chatter. He cleaned the kitchen while I pretended to read on the couch. When he finished, I was grabbing my car keys.

"Leaving again?"

"I'm going to see my parents," I said. Then I thought of my mother and how she had said his name. How there was a little relief in her body. "Would you like to come? It's nothing exciting, obviously. I also understand if it makes you uncomfortable. But you are welcome to come along. We can get coffees after and go for a walk in a park after."

"I would love to come."

He held my hand with a warm, sure grip while we walked into the home. I had walked these hallways a thousand times. I knew these staff members – the kind souls who took care of my parents when I could not. But having someone beside me made me realize just how lonely all those walks had been. Just how much I wished someone would give my hand a squeeze before I opened the door to my parents' apartment.

My mom was in an armchair, my dad on the loveseat. I vaguely introduced Ryder because it was the right thing to do, but neither of my parents reacted. I wanted to help my mom with her hair, wanted to get my dad to sit up straighter because I knew how they thought first impressions were everything. And this was the last way they would want someone to see them. But this is who they were now. And maybe part of it was me. maybe I was afraid to show Ryder this side. The side that broke me. the reason I started hunting. I forced myself to allow them to be just as they were.

But Ryder was unphased. He settled himself on the floor, allowing me to sit on the loveseat with my dad. The man spoke gently, talking to my mom for a little while, then talking to my father. He told them about our first date at the adoption center. He said that we went to movies and that we cooked together, that I liked my steaks rarer than he did, that I could cuddle a cat better than he could.

I fidgeted, folding blankets and adjusting pillows within reach until Ryder said, "She has the best laugh. It's just too bad that it only comes out when she wins."

I stilled, looking at Ryder who was already watching me. A smile was tucked into the corner of his mouth.

"She's always been so competitive," my mom sighed.

And I froze all over again.

"She needed to have longer hair than her friends, get better grades, be better at whatever sports they were good at." I didn't even care what she was saying or how true it was. I was just stunned that she was even speaking this much.

"You're taking good care of her, then?" my dad asked, his voice rough from not having spoken for an extended period of time.

"I'm doing the best I can," Ryder answered honestly. His gaze was heavy as my parents slipped back into their mindless void.