My head was pounding a few days later. This was too much. All of this was complete and utter insanity. How on Earth was I supposed to get close enough to the royals to kill them? And that was only the surface of the many issues at hand. Was I really expected to kill a child, a little girl barely more than a toddler? And if I could kill them and get out of there alive, where was I going to hide? How would we protect the humans against a retaliation when it inevitably came?

There was no way the werewolf community would simply take this lose. They wouldn't just lay down and die because someone had slaughtered their leaders. It was going to get violent and bloody, fast.

But every time I brought it up to Armond, he only narrowed his eyes in response. He thought I was trying to weasel my way out of it, that I didn't have the stomach. The child was an excuse, the aftermath was an excuse. Maybe he was right. Maybe I should have accepted that outing when I had the chance. But I didn't.

Instead, I massaged my temples with my freezing fingers and tried to listen to the old man and his wife droning on.

"Have we lost you, dear?" Dawn asked, the sweeter of the two. At least, on the surface she was kinder and her features only added to it. She was short, round, and rosy cheeked. She looked like the kind of woman that would offer to make you cookies when you were on the brink of tears. But I had heard the stories. I knew she could kill a werewolf with her bare hands if she wanted to, that she was talented enough to make me look weak and feeble.

"No, not lost. Just overwhelmed," I confessed, staring at all of the blurry photographs laid out around me and the maps with bright red circles drawn on them. Where was the weak spot again? Who was I supposed to bring down first?

"Jesus! You just have to shoot an arrow or two! Isn't that what you're good at kid?" Armond demanded. His frustration made his normally gruff exterior downright wretched.

"This—" I gestured to the disaster before me, "is not the set up of a single arrow hitting a target. And if it was, we wouldn't be having these meetings every night. There are problems to this plan. Problems you are refusing to acknowledge."

"She's just tired," Dawn added, patting her husband's arm.

"She can be tired later. We need to deal with these animals. We don't know how long they are staying. They could vanish at any moment, then we'll be back to plucking off random wolves who are dumb enough to make their presence known. We haven't even been able to pick off an alpha in the past three years."

Dawn was right, I was tired. That exhaustion was shifting into burning anger now, rage that might help me take a stand against Armond. But it fizzled as soon as I reached out to harness it. "I'm taking tomorrow off," I blurted, wincing at the headache became a throb behind my eyes. This would wait. This would have to wait. In a situation where one breath, one twig snapping, could be the end, I needed a clear head and a steady heart. Plus, a pair of good legs.

"Think of your parents," Armond pushed, but his words were too much of a snarl to have the effect on me that he had hoped for.

If I had the strength, I would have straightened in my chair and told him to keep his mouth shut. But I only crumpled forward more. "I am. But dying will do them no good. One day. That's all I need right now."

There was obvious hostility from Armond as I left, but Dawn was gentle with me, sensing my tenderness in that moment. She knew it would take one pothole on the drive home, one spilled coffee, or someone bumping into me. she asked me how my injury was healing and gave me a little jar of ointment to use before telling me to enjoy my day.

But my job haunted me long after I drove away from the meeting place. It clung to me like a sour stench while I went to visit my parents. I thought of the single road leading to the cabin that the royals were staying in as I assisted my mother through her complicated night time skin routine. I could almost hear her scolding me as I did so, knowing that I should have been moving my fingers in gentle circles, not scrubbing. But what did it matter? She drilled into my head that consistency was the real key to beautiful skin and I only had time to do this process for her once in a while.

What really mattered was that once I was in the belly of the beast, I had no way of getting out. And that was if I could even get in. that little road must've been monitored heavily. They would hear the old Subaru coming for miles. And if they didn't stop me before I killed their precious royals, they certainly weren't going to let me hope back in my car and continue on my merry way. I wasn't dumb enough to think that I could outrun a pack of wolves either so going in on foot was not an option.

I shook my head and carefully took my mother's arm, guiding her to the bedroom. I swapped out the silk pillowcase for her and settled a silk eyemask over her before kissing her forehead and tucking her in. My dad had managed to pull on his pajamas by himself and rolled under the covers.

When I moved to shut off the lamp on his night stand, a hand gripped my wrist. My heart gave a feeble stutter in my chest.

"Dad?" I whispered.

"When was the last time you changed the oil on the car?" he asked, eyes so clear. Obviously, the mind was still hazy.

"Just a couple weeks ago," I assured, lowering myself to sit on the edge of the bed.

"Good, good," he gave a weary nod. "And Craig?"

"He's good. He's keeping busy, you know. Important lawyer stuff." The lie didn't taste sour on my tongue. How could I tell my father the truth? Craig had packed his bags and never looked back. He didn't offer a cent or an hour of time to help them. Or me. Not a single phone call or professional email was sent my way to make sure that I was okay. That I wasn't falling apart. And if this was my father's moment of clarity for the week or month or year, I wasn't going to ruin it.

"Right. You two finally getting along?"

"Of course."

"Good, good."

I could see the recognition leaving his eyes, see the exhaustion taking away whatever grain of reality he held. He released me as his breathing evened out. And I just sat there.

I didn't know if I wanted to scream until my lungs ached or sob so hard that I became dehydrated. I wanted to go on a sprint and push myself until my legs gave out and my mind could not produce a single thought. I wanted to curl up on my couch at home with a container of homemade mac and cheese and feel every jab, each cut that my emotions gave me.

But I was not any of those people. My parents hadn't raised me like that.

There was a problem. And I was the solution.

I would get my head right. I just needed some rest and a little distraction.

Sitting in the parking lot of the assisted living complex, I pulled out my cell phone. And pulled up the contact that I had been too scared to reach out to. I had thought of him every day since he had given me his number, looked for him every time I worked a shift at the coffee shop. But, with the ball in my court, I had chosen not to play.

I didn't know why tonight was different, but I pressed the icon and eased the phone against my ear. I could hardly hear it ringing over the blood pounding in my ears.

He was just a guy.

He was just a customer.

He would have no impact on my life longer term.

A distraction. Nothing more.

"Hello?"

The flutter in my chest at his voice told me that I was lying. I wished I had thought of something, anything, to say. "Hi," was all that left my lips.

"Ah, Rosemary and or Sam," he greeted as if he could recall my voice from millions. "What took you so long?"

My jaw relaxed from its clenched position. There was something so easy about him, so comforting. It was like I had known him in another life. "I thought it was customary to wait at least three days. You know, to avoiding seeming desperate." Great. Perfect, now I had implied that I was in fact, very desperate. Just what every man wanted.

"I'm not a very patient man. Next time, don't wait," he said.

It was simple. It was meant as a joke. But I felt something stir deep in my belly. I let out a nervous laugh to cover my silence.

"So, are you going to tell me why you called me at nine in the evening on a weeknight?" he hinted.

"Oh shit, I'm sorry, I didn't realize it was so late."

"It's fine, really. But I am curious."

"I have the day off tomorrow."

"Wonderful."

He must have thought I was a blubbering idiot by now. I wanted to say something substantial. I could only saw my teeth over my lower lip for a few seconds before I finally announced, "I thought, if you were still in town, we could spend some time together."

"And what would we do?" he was toying with me. I could hear it in his voice.

"I honestly haven't gotten that far, I—It's been kind of a rough day."

"Oh." All teasing notes evaporated. "Do you want to talk about it?"

Of course I did. I wanted to spill my whole heart out to this stranger and tell him about how awful and evil werewolves were. I wanted to tell him about my parents and how I had come so close to dying just a few short days ago. But he would laugh. He would call me crazy. And I would never hear from him again. The thought shouldn't have frightened me, but it did. And right now, I didn't care enough to know why. If this was what I needed to feel better, then I was taking it.

"No. Sorry, maybe I shouldn't have called. It's late."

"Tomorrow." He was quiet, but it was an order. "Let's see each other tomorrow. Tell me where I can pick you up."

"I'll send you an address and a time."

"Perfect. I'll see you then."

~~~Question of the Day~~~

What is the worst gift you have ever received?