"Dad's gone," my cousin's voice was barely above a whisper. "You must come home for the Evaluations," she uttered and the phone line went dead.
*****
After Keri's Uncle - the Alpha of the Silver Bullets pack - loses his battle with cancer, the young...
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I opened my eyes, my body on fire. Not actual fire, not like the flames I once again dreamt of, but it felt pretty darn close.
Sitting on the edge of my bed, I rubbed my eyes with the heels of my burning palms before I turned towards my alarm clock. The angry, red digits told me that it was nearing six in the morning. After a short debate, I got up and began to prepare my breakfast. Two eggs and a few strips of bacon took their turns in the frying pan while the toast was baked. The fire I'd woken up with in my veins had dissipated, leaving in its stead the usual coolness that the warmth from the kitchen appliances could not combat. Even the first shot of whiskey didn't manage that task, so I took another - not that it helped much - before I sat down to eat with the TV on for some background noise.
I wasn't paying attention to whatever morning show was on, until one of the women on it said something about dinner. I turned my head to the screen displaying photos of someone who, given their expensive-looking evening dress, was probably famous.
I frowned.
I was invited to dinner tonight.
That wasn't a bad thing since the invitation had come from Kelly, but it had been sudden. I replayed the previous day in my head, trying to figure out what could've prompted it.
I'd been just about to leave the precinct on Friday when she'd approached me with a huge smile I'd assumed was lighting her face due to her shift ending. She'd pushed some papers aside and sat on my desk, her face radiant as she'd inquired if I'd had plans for the weekend. I recalled myself snorting, and then, still grinning, she'd asked "How 'bout coming over for dinner on Saturday then?".
A normal human being would've said "yes" or "no" and maybe thanked her for the invitation; I'd grumbled "What on Earth for?". She'd given me one of her eyerolls so I'd corrected myself with a "I mean, why?" to which she'd sighed and shaken her head.
"Can't I invite a co-worker for dinner?" She'd asked.
"I suppose," I'd replied.
"Is that a yes?"
After, I'd assured her that yes, I was going to visit her and Steve on Saturday at dinner time, she'd beamed at me and left.
Had I looked particularly lonely and pathetic that night?
I had colleagues occasionally ask me out for a beer, but none had been foolish enough to invite a grump like me into their homes. Not for years. I'd had a couple of open invitations from people my age with whom I'd been working with since I'd come to the precinct, but even they hadn't brought it up recently.
And then, there Kelly was, seeming ecstatic at the idea of spending a few hours with me outside of work. This young, vibrant person with sulky, old me.
Yes, I must've looked especially pitiful on Friday.
