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I described it to Griffin like that of a Frankenstein retelling converged with a modern-day horror film. The ivory moonlight washed out her pallid features when she rolled her eyes at me and moaned with the blood-thirst of a reanimated corpse... He scoffed in that usual way that told me he might have laughed... but he just didn't care for it at the time. For the time being, he was popping the cap off an aged wine bottle he couldn't possibly have traveled with, but he refused to explain its origins. Sans wine glasses, he poured two hardy mugs of white wine for the both of us.

"I hope you realize this is considered underage drinking for me," I warned, but was already holding up the mug to my lips.

"That's not going to stop me from getting a girl drunk," he said, and upon my scowl he rolled his eyes, "Cut the shit—you've drunk wine before."

"Just straight vodka. Rosanna's the wine-drinker, I'll have you know." Though that was true, I didn't mind the taste as much as I thought I would. Perhaps the cheap crap was what rubbed me the wrong way the first time around.

"Then you know it won't get ya past tipsy," he said. "I'm interested in setting aside the bear girl for now—she's more your problem than mine at the moment. Though I have to say, I'd love to meet her when she isn't haunting your hallways."

"You must have a thing for all the alpha females around here," I laughed, swinging my legs up off the side of his truck bed. I held them straight out like that for a bit, and leveled them with the coast, and the horizon that rippled with whites and blues. I tilted my head to the side, and viewed the horizon vertically. "What did you want to talk about then."

"We don't 'ave to talk," he said, and even though he wasn't looking at me, I had a feeling he would be if I turned to him. I kept my gaze ahead of me and took a sip more.

We were in a cove of sorts, tucked away where the water dropped dozens of feet below us, and was surrounded on most sides by rocky, crumbling cliffs dotted with trees and moss, vines and the sort. I enjoyed the thought of hopping onto one of those lower regions, the shelves in the rock face, and laying there for a while.

I drunk the mug full and set it down to pour a bit more for myself. Griffin beat me to it, the bottle closest to him anyway, and tipped the nose of it towards the mug. It glugged out for a second or two, before he capped it again.

The wine filled all of my senses. The taste was overpowering, and collected like hot air in my nose. My lips leaving the rim of the mug—a soft but audible sound—and the wine sloshing back to the bottom.

"Do you know much about being the head of a pack?" I asked softly. It felt like anything above a whisper would be a shout. The wine's aroma escaped my mouth, letting cool, salty air in.

He shrugged, and after a moment, shook his head. "I never learned. I just observe every now and then," he explained. "I... went to school for a while. Alphas have specialized classes every now and then, and they were always insane. Imagine having ten—no, twenty—hormonal, hyperactive, teenage alphas all in the same room. Some days were complete disasters—one broken nose after the other. Most of them were sons of men who lead packs, raised with arrogance and competitiveness. I didn't get involved much, but it's why my nose is a bit crooked here."

He looked at me then so I could see it. His finger rested on the bridge of his nose, where it seemed a touch out of place, with a bump favoring his right eye. Hardly noticeable, but there all the same.

"Have you broken a nose before?" he asked me, and I shrugged. "What's that supposed to mean?" he laughed.

"Well, I've gotten in fights before. I got hit in the nose, but it was just really bloody. Nothing broken I don't think," I confessed, and raised a hand up as I remembered how it felt. It was like a dam being struck, and it gushed all at once. I could taste the blood in my mouth.

"That's good though, I suppose. Depending on how you hit it, it could ram straight through the cavity here and kill you. Or displace the nasal passages—you could 'ave headaches for years afterwards. Or, in my case, mess with your tear ducts. I cried for a solid twenty minutes for no reason, and in a school filled with boys like that I was picked on until I finally struck back," he said, leaning his head against the door in the back of the truck.

"I hope you broke the other guy's nose."

"No. I cracked his skull open," he confessed. "We were out on the grounds and a few kids came up to me saying whatever. I suppose it doesn't matter anymore, but I grabbed the guy's head and whipped him to the side—that happened to be where the wall was. All brick.

"The ones with him tried to fight me but I got away. I think I broke another one of their ribs, but either way I was suspended. I got a reputation after that—and not for crying after breaking my nose. Reputations like that are a sure way to be recruited for jobs like these," he told me with a slight smile.

He looked down at his mug, and I smiled even though I felt bad. It never failed to make me feel as though I was grimacing.

"And how do you feel about that?" I asked.

"To be honest? Pretty okay. Pret-ty o-kay..." he drawled, absently rubbing his thumb up and down the curve of his mug handle. "I always wanted to travel, you know."

"And travel you have," I mused aloud with a smile. I placed my hand on his lap and patted it. "If I could travel like you, I would."

Griffin scoffed, laying his hand over mine and saying, "I wouldn't doubt it. If ya weren't such a softy, you'd make a pretty great hunter."

I laughed, and shifted closer to him so I could rest my head on his shoulder. If I thought it was possible the first time I met him that he'd be a perfect headrest, I'd think I was crazy. But right now, he made a pretty okay headrest.

"I've been wondering," I started, knowing that it was likely bad manners to be willing to think like this on a date, let alone say it aloud. I doubted those girls Everett knew wouldn't say such things on a date... Perhaps talking about it isn't the grandest idea I've ever had...

"What are you second guessing?" he asked, and his amusement had me sputtering and swinging my hand out to slap him in the arm. He scoffed at my childish attack, so I leant away and crossed my arms.

"I was just wondering if you even like me or if you're just doing this to piss my dad off," I said, voice stiff as I glared at him.

His eyes widened a fraction. I guess that was as good of an expression I'd get out of him aside from stoic and bitter. "I mean... don't get me wrong I love pissing Graham off every now and then, but I can do that with or without walking out with you," he said. I was just about to tease him for saying such an old fashioned thing when he added, "And... I figured now's my best chance before I have competition."

He raised his eyebrows at me, lips pursed. My mouth fell open, before clamming shut as I realized I didn't know what the hell he was talking about.

"Yeah... uh, I'm lost. Care to explain?" I said, voice tired.

Griffin rolled his eyes and said, "When the girl wakes up."

"What's that supposed to mean?"

"I'm just saying that there's a possibility that you'd return her affections."

My jaw dropped and I looked around, completely bewildered that he was steering the conversation here. "I don't—since when did—? We don't know that she likes me! Or that she even likes women!"

"Lesbians exist, you know."

Flustered, I slapped my hands over my cheeks so he wouldn't see how pink they were. I hated getting worked up. Adrenaline was one thing when it was from fright or paranoia, but when it kicked into gear uselessly like this, my brain couldn't function. I couldn't even form coherent words until Griffin burst out laughing.

I'd never heard a full-fledged laugh from Griffin until now, and I couldn't stop myself from jumping in surprise. I stared at him as he calmed down and said, "Oh my God, you don't have to look so terrified. Jesus, that was—that was good, I'll give you that."

"You're ridiculous! You're just teasing me, aren't you?" I cried out, clutching at my hair.

"No, not at all."

"I really do hate you, you know."

"I'm sure ya do, Reagan." He stretched his arms back behind his head and smirked at me. "And anyway, I tend to have pretty good instincts when it comes to shit like this. You'd be surprised by the number of lesbians I've befriended out here."

"I'm sure they're all just trying to escape douchebags like you."

"You're probably right."

"And you're saying I'm one of them. Then what do you say about this date we're having? Not very gay if you ask me."

"To be honest, I think you're just entertaining me," he confessed, and a rush of guilt sent me scrambling to insist that wasn't it. He interrupted me, though. "But... I do think that you fancy me enough to even accept the invitation. So by those terms you're either pan or bi, but still discovering yourself."

My arguments fizzled out as I considered this. I never considered it before, so there was no telling what my brain thought on the matter. I wasn't entirely opposed to those labels, because I always did think highly of both genders, but in the end, none of that really mattered. I glanced at Griffin skeptically, and he gave me a genuine, triumphant smile. Just seeing his smile beyond all that scruff had me convinced that I wasn't just here to entertain.

"Fine. Suppose you're right about that," I said, and spared one last glare at him before saying, "I don't think I'd really know because I've never dated anyone before. I stay away from the guys in my hometown to avoid situations like... like..."

"Like what?"

"I don't know. I don't know how to describe it. My grandma's told me plenty of things about it but there's no word for it, you know?" I explained with a sigh. I didn't want to offend him, but sometimes these things were necessary to get out of the way. "Lycanthropes tend to get a bit... obsessive about the women they fall in love with. I guess Rosanna and I have just been... avoiding it because we don't want guys we loved to turn creepy, you know?"

Griffin didn't take offense (thank God) and instead donned a thoughtfully solemn look. He scratched at his beard and said, "Your grandmother... must be the alpha Lillian, right? I heard she went through some rough shit with the alpha before her."

"From what I've heard. People don't like talking about it around Rosanna and I. Again, that whole... disguising the worst so that we don't think poorly of our kind," I said with a roll of my eyes. "Bullshit, if you ask me."

"I guess this is your passive-aggressive way of warnin' me to keep from that, yeah?" he said.

"No, it's just—Okay, yeah, sort of. If you... plan on making this a regular thing?" I asked, hopeful as I pressed my cheek to my shoulder and studied the way he huffed a soft laugh and glanced at me.

"Yeah, we can make this a regular thing," he agreed.

* * *

After I snuck in through the silo door and crept into my room without a sound, I was woken up no more than four hours later to a knock sounding on my door. I groaned and muttered for whoever it was to come in, and I peered out of my blankets to Jillian waltzing in with her hands on her hips, and Everett peering in behind her. "What is it..." I moaned.

"We're going out today!" she declared. "And tonight, so pack a bag. We're visiting Graham's brother's place."

I sat up, hair disheveled as I raised an eyebrow at her, and then at Everett, who didn't seem to be arguing. After a moment, I started to hear it—Louise's pathetic voice down the hall. "Fine," I sighed, pushing out of my bed to get dressed.

Jillian practically packed my bag for me while I brushed my teeth. Immediately after I set my toothbrush on the counter, Jillian snatched it up and stuffed it into my toiletry bag. Everett took to sitting on my bed and asked, "What about that... girl or whatever."

"We can't very well take her with us, can we," Jillian sighed. "I'll come back to check on her once we're all settled at the cabin tonight."

I splashed water in my face and scrubbed away the oils with my facial soap. "I mean, we don't have to leave her here. I have a feeling she's gonna be waking up soon."

"What gives you that impression? You suddenly a doctor or something?" Everett said, and glared at me when I turned to sneer at him.

"Enough of that—now, here's your bag. And I'd really rather not have to deal with that girl any time soon. I could use a vacation from all the ruckus you've caused," Jillian said to me, and just as I was sure she was disappointed, she winked on her way back to the door. I pursed my lips to keep from grinning victoriously at Everett, who was displeased by the entire situation.

As we were leaving, bags thrown over our shoulders, Everett and I caught the last bit of Louise cursing on the phone. I shared a look with Everett and asked, "Is she always like this?"

"Not particularly," he replied bleakly, looking repulsed by the question as he sank into the passenger's seat. I climbed into the back of Jillian's car, accepting my position as the guest here, and not the favorite child who earned shotgun.

"So... Dad's brother had a cabin or something?" I said, because I was more or less confused by the entire scenario reeling in my head. I didn't know much about my Baretto Uncle, aside from the usual: younger brother, originally married to Jillian, and now long since passed for about ten or so years. Jillian and Uncle Charlie met and fell in love after Dad married Louise. Rosanna liked the classic conspiracy that Jillian and Charlie were the Maid of Honor and the Best Man, and as that whole scenario goes, they hooked up at the end of the night and called dibs for the rest of their lives.

"Yeah, we were supposed to move out and onto the property, but he never quite finished building the cabin," she explained. "It's... more or less a 'summer vacation spot' than anything now. It's not equipped for living there in the winter. I've been hoping to fix it up myself... but I never find time with the bookstore and all that."

"I've offered to help, like, a dozen different times," Everett muttered against the window.

"I know, and that's sweet of you, but half the year you aren't even here to help," she said.

"I'm surprised he even offered," I said, and snickered when Everett twisted around to scowl at me.

Jillian sighed as we turned down the road and drove off into the wilderness. "Sometimes I find it hard to believe that you two haven't been living together all your lives. You act like siblings."

"Do not!" I cried, and clamped my mouth shut when Everett shouted the same exact thing. We didn't even bother glaring at one another because that would just prove how right Jillian was and encourage her manic laughter.

I was expecting a dilapidated house when we reached Charlie and Jillian's property more than thirty minutes away from the epicenter of Redborough. Instead, it was lodged in the midst of acres upon acres of redwood trees, and nested against a freshwater creek. The property itself ran along a street owned and named after Jillian, and was titled after her middle name: Heather. Heather Road twisted between the gargantuan trees, avoiding them rather than plowing through them, and as we stepped out of the car, I looked up into the canopy before dropping my gaze to the half-finished cabin.

They had big plans for it, which was why only half of it was finished. The exterior looked complete, but inside it was a mess of exposed plywood and insulated papers taped over the nonexistent windows. Our footsteps echoed across the building as Jillian hefted a bag of groceries up onto the counter.

"So... you and Charlie would be living here instead?" I asked.

"Most likely. We decided on it after everything finalized with your mother not needing Graham down in Texas," she explained. "Otherwise Charlie would have inherited Redborough."

"Ah," I hummed. I knew all of that was a touchy subject, especially when Charlie was around. Dad hated talking about it, because in truth, he felt guilty for taking his brother's potential livelihood. Sure, Dad was the eldest son and therefore next in the running in grandfather's will, but the hope that Mom would steal him away to Texas gave Charlie a reason to believe that he might have a chance at this glory.

Thankfully, we had some sort of reception outside, stranded in the wilderness. Granted, we were just as stranded as anyone with a car with a tank full of gas, but the idea that we were lost out here made the experience all the more thrilling. I walked to the back patio and pried the door open with a calm breath in. The air smelled like fresh wood, and as I let Everett and Jillian's voices dissolve, they blended with the sound of the creek trickling over the riverbed.

It was impossible to deny my childish tendencies and poke sticks in the creek to try and spear fish for "food," but we definitely had an entire grocery bag full of meal necessities that Jillian...

Wait a minute.

I perked up from the rock I was perched on, realizing belatedly that Jillian was leaving us. Everett was following after her, and my eyebrows raised at the mention of, "You're leaving me alone with her?"

"Oh you'll be fine—unless you want to work at the shop again. I'll be back after closing time."

"Wait, you're leaving?" I blurted out, leaping off of the rock to chase after her. She was half-in the driver's seat and looking over the window at us, annoyed with our complaints.

"Just until I close the shop. I'll be back for dinner," she promised, and punctuated the end of our discussion by slamming the door shut.

Everett and I stood on the edge of the road watching until the tires disappeared behind the warp of redwood tree trunks rising high above us. I crossed my arms and sighed, turning to look at Everett, who seemed too indifferent about everything to actually care. After a moment, he gave me an evil side-eye and turned away, snapping, "Don't look at me! As if I'm in charge of all your problems."

"Problems? I don't have any!" I cried, hurrying after him before reconsidering. "Wait, never mind, I definitely do—but that's not the point!"

"The point is: you do your weird cryptic fish-hunt thing, and I'll be inside away from you," he said, glaring at me from the porch before disappearing behind the screen door. The sticker was still on the door window.

I scratched the back of my head and turned back around. What was I supposed to do with all this vacant time Jillian gave us? I certainly didn't want to spend it brooding about what the fuck happened with Dad and Louise. I wasn't exactly in the position to start asking questions. Louise wasn't my mom, and I didn't want to bring it up to Everett because it might be a sore subject. But perhaps we were both in the same boat and neither of us knew what was happening.

I wandered back around the house and crossed through the shadow it dropped through the forest. The sun was climbing higher as we approached noon, but it was already heating up. I shed my sweatshirt and boots, and finished the look by rolling up my jeans so I could stand in the water with my toes digging under the tiny, smooth pebbles.

I stood like that for a while, listening to everything around me. Rosanna and I did this more times than I could count. We'd see what we could hear and investigate if it was right. Our neighbor's mom asking where the peanut butter jar was, two squirrels chasing one another up a tree, Uncle Gavin tinkering in the garage where Mom pestered him with questions.

Now, if I focused, I could hear Everett tapping away on his phone inside. The beating of wings overhead. The gentle creek became a roar in my ears after a while, and I had to dial it back just in time to hear a car pull up and heavy boots drop onto the gravel.

I dropped my head and looked down at my feet through the water. There were minnows circling my feet and I tried to grab one just as the man took in a breath to speak—I knew who it was just by the sound of his boots.

I interrupted him. "What're you doing here?" I asked, straightening up to look back at Griffin as he wandered around the side of the house. He looked so gangly without his jacket. It was impossible to tell just how much muscle was on him when he was so tall and skinny.

"Followed Jillian's car. Waited until she left—she works these days so I figured she'd be back in town by the time her shop opened up," he explained, and the sound of his voice sent Everett running to the patio door and swinging it open. "Hey kid."

"I'm not a kid," Everett said, arms crossed as he stomped down the patio steps like a child.

"What's your dad up to today? He hasn't been answering any of my calls about the girl," he said, looking between us both. Everett reached a hand behind his head and looked away, and I pursed my lips at Griffin for bringing it up. "What?"

"We don't know. Something happened after Louise got back. I think Dad might have shifted last night. Kind of... emotional right now," I explained, and kicking a foot through the water, adding, "Brilliant that we're in the middle of the fucking forest! With no one around!"

"He wouldn't," Everett muttered defensively.

"He wouldn't know," Griffin corrected. "I could stick 'round here. Could let you shoot for a bit."

"You brought your guns?" he gasped, and Griffin barely nodded before Everett was racing around the cabin to get to Griffin's truck. I raised an eyebrow at Griffin, who rolled his eyes and swayed to the side, turning, and slumping off after Everett.

I stepped deeper into the creek as Everett came back with a gun holster slung around his waist. I hadn't seen Griffin use it before—close-range fighting with wolves wasn't exactly ideal, so rifles seemed to suit Griffin better. Regardless, it seemed he had more than one style of firearm for Everett to test out.

"I'm charging your dad for the ammunition," Griffin said.

"Okay."

Griffin laughed, walking over to me with a grocery bag slung over his shoulder. He swung it around, standing on the edge of the riverbed, so I walked over just as he pried out a spiked lemonade can.

"Griffin," I groaned. "It's not even noon."

"What else are we supposed to use for targets? Drink up," he said, cracking open his own can. He waited until I had mine open, and then we both chugged until all of its contents were in our stomachs.

He set up the empty cans on rocks by the river. Everett was so excited he was buzzing, vibrating in his spot as Griffin wandered back and popped open another can for himself. He sipped it less hurriedly and said, "'ight, let's see what you can do."

"Aren't you gonna show him how?" I said, and they both gave me flat stares before turning their attention back to the targets. I dropped my hands to my side in exasperation, and pointedly marched several more feet away from the cans to keep from getting shot.

It seemed like Griffin already gave Everett lessons prior to that day, and so all he really needed was to practice his aim. Griffin had the gun suppressor on, and so the blasts weren't as intense as I thought they'd be. I went on trying to catch minos before discovering that on the riverbed, there were rocks housing salamanders.

I watched one dart out and screamed, gasped, and lunged for it. It slithered out of reach and underneath another rock in the shade.

"What is it?" Griffin called out from where he stood on the other side of the creek beside Everett. Everett lowered the gun to look.

"I don't—aha! There it is again!" I shrieked, clasping both hands over it. Its slimy tail slithered and licked across the palms of my hands. I cupped it and lifted it up, prancing in the water. "Wuaaah! Look at it! It's so cute!" I screamed, sloshing through the water to head back over. My jeans were wet all the way up to my knees by the time I got there and showed the little guy to them.

"Salamander? You've never seen one before?" Everett laughed, and I scowled at him.

"In case you forgot, I basically live in the desert most days. Not many cricks around there—"

"Crick?" Griffin and Everett both shouted, borderline offended.

I clutched the salamander closer to my chest and said, "You... don't say 'crick'?"

Everett slapped a hand over his face and groaned. "I can't believe how southern you are..."

"I've been wondering about your weird accent," Griffin confessed.

"My weird accent?" I snapped, and nearly jabbed a finger at him before realizing I was holding a creature. I pointed the salamander's head at him. "You're the one with the weird accent, you... you... you French heathen!"

"French heathen? Really?" he said. He reached up and pointed a finger at the salamander. "And ya know our skin is toxic to their's, right?"

I gapped at him, and hurriedly rushed to find a good spot to place the small fella. The instant the salamander was on the rock, it took off running, and squeezed between the rocks to hide again. "Of course I knew that," I said, trying not to look guilty as Everett stomped away, muttering, "'Crick', I can't believe she says 'crick!'"

I stuck my nose up at him, and then at Griffin, who raised his eyebrows and said, "So if you're here, and I'm here, then who's watchin' the girl."

"Jillian wouldn't let me take her with."

"Ya say that like she's a dog who doesn't do well with car rides."

"I'm serious, Griffin—I would've taken her with!" I cried, and at my exclamation, Griffin's eyebrows raised higher. I clamped my mouth shut and did the first thing my body could think of—shove him as hard as possible.

I didn't expect him to stagger, let alone fall from the force, and the next thing I knew I was bright red, and Everett was laughing up a storm at the sight of Griffin drenched in river water. I clamped my hands over my mouth and squeaked, "Oh—Oh God, Jesus Christ, I'm so sorry."

"Are we gonna start talkin' about the Holy Ghost now or something? What other names are there?" Griffin said, accepting the hand I held out to him.

I really should have expected him to yank me down with him.

I yelped and kicked him in the shin on my way down. I landed face-first in the water, and emerged, gasping. The cold knocked the air straight out of my lungs. But, since I was now effectively drenched, I twisted around and sat there facing Griffin, and the slime ball that was my brother, who was cackling in the background.

Everett fell on the ground laughing, dropping Griffin's gun in favor of clutching at his stomach. "Oh my God, that was priceless!"

"Was it now?" I said, grinning as I shoved myself to my feet and started marching over to him. "You're up next!"

He didn't make it off of the ground, at least not on his own. He screamed as I came for him, tackling him around the torso. I hefted him up, kicking and screaming, and tried to ignore how fucking heavy he was. "What did you eat for breakfast? Bricks?" I said, now standing in the water before doing a belly-flop with Everett in front of me.

I rolled off of him immediately so that he could jump up, panting, and screaming, "Reagan! Fuck, don't do that!"

Griffin and I were laughing though. I laughed until I teared up because Everett started splashing water at me, and soon we were all sticky with mud and algae and whatever else was in the water. Afterwards, we laid in the grass together in the hot, hot sun, and took off our shirts and pants to dry on the rocks. Thankfully I had a hefty supply of women's boxers and sports bras, so I was basically in my usual bikini set. Changing in front of the boys back home meant adapting their fashion sense when it came to underwear.

Griffin sat on one of the rocks in his boxers, whittling another stick to a fine point. He glanced at Everett, for a moment before looking down and saying, "I've been wondering. Are you interested in the hunt?"

"Me?" Everett said. When Griffin looked at him then, though, his response faltered and disappeared. He pinched his mouth shut and shrugged uselessly.

"Since Reagan came here, I've been wondering what the chances are that she'll even be able to succeed your father. So in that respect, you could still inherit his position."

"What makes you say that?" I said, perking up. "And when I inherit, Dad's probably gonna get Everett a job on the council."

"But that's not exactly up Everett's alley," Griffin said. "And the reason I'll say 'if you inherit' is because we all know the council hates you and your sister. And the last thing they'd want is for you to spread your 'religion' elsewhere."

I mockingly said, "Religion," with big air quotes that had Everett snorting. "You mean feminism. It's not a cuss word, asshat. Just say 'feminism' and we can move on."

Griffin rolled his eyes and said, "You know what I mean. And for you to live here you'll have to gain Canadian citizenship, on top of the council's permission. Take a wild guess which one's not gonna work out."

I fell silent as Everett spoke up on my behalf. "That's ridiculous! Shouldn't it be based on who is more qualified for the position, not something like... I don't know. Dismissing modern ideals over their own traditions? They treat this like we're part of a cult or something."

"Who's to say we aren't?" he replied, picking up a fresh twig before tossing me the clean one. As I inspected it and considered the chances of spearing a minnow with it, he said, "As someone who wasn't raised in the cult we call lycanthropy, I can safely say that I wasn't brought up under the same patriarchal ideals as everyone else was—save for Stonecroft and any friends of Lillian and Emma. And I'm being rational by saying that life would be far easier for you if ya stuck to Stonecroft, Reagan. Life must have been tough for Lillian, starting out as the first female alpha of Stonecroft."

"I can't argue with that. All those guys Dad works with have their egos shoved so far up their asses that it's the only thing they can see out of their saggy eye sockets," I said, wiggling my fingers in front of my eyes before scoffing and thrusting Griffin's spear between the pebbles so it stood up in the water. "Either that or they're half dead."

"Yeah. Is that Ron guy all right? He seems a bit off his rocker, so to speak," Griffin said.

"Who, Old Man Ron?" Everett said, and scoffed. "He's always been like that."

Griffin and I shared a look, wondering if it was possible for someone to be senile through their entire life.

I was on the lookout for my aunt's car throughout Griffin's entire visit, and so when I heard it far down at the start of the road, I sat up straight with a gasp. Griffin perked up like a dog preparing to chase a squirrel. "What is it?" he asked sharply, grabbing the gun Everett was holding onto.

"It's just Jillian. You should probably go—she hates your guts," I told him, getting to my feet as Everett whined from the grass. I grabbed Everett by the arm and hauled him up to his feet. "Check on the girl, okay? Use my key to get in through the silo," I said to Griffin, running inside to grab it.

When I came out through the front door, Everett was standing outside Griffin's open driver's door, grudgingly handing over the ammunition Griffin gave him. I reached around Everett to slap the key in Griffin's outstretched hand. Neither of us lingered, and I felt relieved by the distance. Attentive proximity tended to suffocate.

"I'll keep you posted," he said, glancing behind him down the road. They could all hear Jillian's engine now. "Blast some music or something to distract her when I backtrack and have to drive by."

Everett scoffed and told him he'd handle the distraction part. With that, Griffin slammed the door shut and pulled out of the drive in one fluid motion, and headed down farther into the wilderness so that when Jillian pulled up, Griffin was already gone around the bend, looking for the dead end that would allow him the chance to turn around, and leave without being seen.

When it came to the distraction, Everett took us out to the river where the bubbling water and Everett's loud rambling concealed the sound of Griffin's engine cruising by. I hitched my jeans up and got into the water, forcing Jillian with me so that we were screaming with laughter, our backs to the road until Everett was sure Griffin was out of sight.

"Well, you two seem to be acting like siblings for once," she commented with a laugh.

Everett and I looked at each other, and it was Everett who wound up saying, "Well, we are half-siblings. Might as well get used to it."