Werewolf at Heart Ch. 03

"Don't worry, Ms. Whelehan, it'll be fine. You know I can handle it," the young woman said, standing in the kitchen and smiling prettily as she bounced Caleb on one hip.

"I know that Maddie," Carly said, matching Maddie's smile with one of her own. "I guess I'm just nervous. I've not spent any time away from the boys since I became their guardian. I worry."

Maddie laughed, and freed a long strand of blue hair from Caleb's grasp. "You have given me six different people to call, and you're only going to be next door. Everything will be fine." If it was odd that the younger woman was reassuring the older one, no one mentioned it.

"You're right, I know." She dropped a kiss on the top of Caleb's head and went to find Jason. "Listen to Miss Maddie while I'm away. If you need me, she knows how to get ahold of me. When you wake up, I'll be here. We'll watch cartoons and have breakfast in bed," she said with a gentle smile. Jason nodded solemnly at her assurances. He still wasn't talking, and Carly worried. It seemed to be all that she could do these days.

Leaving behind everything but her phone and a six pack of her favorite brew, Carly walked next door and into her friend's house. It had been years since they had bothered with any sort of formality, coming and going between the two houses with little thought and less effort. She strolled through the house to the kitchen, calling out to Emile to let the other woman know she had arrived.

Grabbing a plate, she dug through the fridge, pulling out cheese and vegetables. She found the crackers and beef sticks in the cupboard, where she knew they would be. After cracking the top of the first beer, she stowed the remaining bottles in the fridge.

"It's hard to have girlie time if I'm all alone," Carly called out again. She could hear Emile moving around upstairs, so she turned on the television and settled into the couch to wait, munching on her snacks and drinking her beer.

"Sorry," Emile said as she descended the stairs.

She passed into the kitchen, foregoing a snack but pouring a liberal amount of whisky into a pint glass of cider. Carly turned down the volume on the television as Emile flopped onto the couch. She sat with her back against the armrest, knees tucked up close to her body, intently watching her friend.

"I'm a hot mess," Emile admitted, borrowing one of Carly's pet phrases. "And I feel terrible dumping my problems on you. I just... well, you're my only friend. Sad, huh?"

Carly looked at her friend thoughtfully, turning to mirror her body position. "You're my only friend, too, you know. And 'hot mess' could probably accurately describe my life at the moment. So what's up? I've been back for a week, and you're acting like I have the plague." She didn't mean to sound so accusatory, but the abandonment had stung fiercely.

Emile looked away, ashamed. She took a long pull of whisky-laced cider before finally answering. "It's not you, it's me," she said, trying and failing to inject some humor into her voice.

Then, before she could lose her courage, she started her story. "I used to be married, a long time ago. Jacob. Jacob was the light of my soul, the air I needed to breathe. He was everything to me, my first and only, my high school sweetheart. Together, we were invincible. We married, and started trying for a baby. It took years of heartbreak and doctor's appointments. Years. Until I finally fell pregnant. We were beyond happy, beyond overjoyed. Nothing could keep the smile from Jacob's face, or mine. The room he had been using as an office space was turned into a nursery, all decked out with the latest bits and bobs a baby needs." Emile paused her story, seeking the strength to continue at the bottom of her glass. Carly wanted to stop the story there, pretend there was a happy ending. She had known the other woman for years, and never was there a mention of a doting husband and adoring child. Carly knew the rest of what she had to say wouldn't be pretty.

Eventually, Emile managed to continue. "I was thirty-five weeks along, so near the end. I was ready. More than ready. I had nurtured my baby as much as humanly possible, but I wanted to be able to bend over again. I wanted to be able to drink coffee and whisky. I wanted to walk instead of waddle. I wanted to hold my baby and show her all the love a mother could give to a tiny girl. I wanted to watch her learn and struggle and love and grow. Jacob decided we needed a weekend away, one last weekend for us before the baby came. We went to a friend's cabin on a lake up north. It was a charming place, and we spent the day relaxing and enjoying nature and each other. Sometime after dinner, there was a knock on the door."

Emile closed her eyes, reliving the horrors once again. Carly shifted, leaning into her friend and offering wordless support. "Jacob answered the door. It happened so quickly. He screamed and fought, but he was unarmed and there was so much blood. When Jacob hit the floor and didn't move, the man came for me. He came for my baby, my precious little girl. He didn't know what he was doing."

Emile lifted the edge of her shirt, allowing the scars to tell the story. Three parallel slashes on either side of her belly. She couldn't put the pain and horror into words, she couldn't explain what had happened. Carly let out a soft cry, understanding was clear and words were not necessary. Tears flowed from both women, but Emile wasn't quite finished.

"There were some hikers in the woods nearby, and they heard the screams. They tried to save my baby, but it wasn't possible. No one could have. Jacob was dead, my precious baby was dead, and because of the hikers, our murderer was dead. So much death, but I wanted to join them."

She was heavily editing the story, leaving out that the attacker was a werewolf, as were her rescuers. That the attacker shifted to a wolf, as Jacob grappled with him. That the scars were from claws and not a knife. That there were long-healed bite wounds that would be harder to explain. The horror of death compounded by the lycanthropy that had been passed to her during the savage attack. Without this information, the next bit of the story didn't make much sense, but Emile needed to see it through.

"The hikers were part of a group, I guess you could say. And they kind of took me in like a stray. They looked out for me, long after I was released from the hospital. I lived with them, for a while, because I couldn't manage to face my old life. I couldn't live where Jacob no longer lived, a nursery my baby would never see. I guess they felt responsible for what had happened. My body healed, but my soul was shattered. That isn't something that can be healed."

The hikers were responsible, in a way. Not for the attack, that had been carried out by a lone werewolf of uncertain motive. They had been tracking the loner, knowing they often went crazy, and had failed to stop him in time. As she spoke she wondered, for the first time, if her anguish could actually heal. Jack, it would seem, was trying to piece her soul back together again. And wasn't that a frightening thought? As Emile was caught up in her thoughts, Carly took the opportunity to grab more drinks, skipping straight to whisky over ice.

"They still check in on me," Emile finished her story when Carly returned. "They never gave up on me, or let me give up. One man in particular has been rather persistent lately. I hate him, but he won't go away. I just can't deal with it, with feeling, you know?"

Emile finished her fresh glass of whisky in one long drink, before admitting, "Boy problems aren't the worst, though. I can't look at babies, at your little Caleb, without dying a little more. He lives, they live, everyone lives but my baby girl, her precious life..." Emile couldn't go on, sobbing as fresh pain pierced at her. Carly hugged her friend, sharing her grief.

"I'm sorry, I'm so very sorry. I can't imagine, I just can't even think about what that would be like," Carly said tearfully, trying to ease her pain. Tears and hugging continued for many long moments, until Emile finally broke away. Wiping her face on the edge of a blanket, she attempted to regain control.

"So, boy trouble, huh?" Carly finally asked after long moments of silence, latching on to the one part of the story where she could actually relate.

Just like that, the mood shifted. The story was a new truth between them, not to be forgotten, but what was there to discuss? It was pain and horror and darkness, and Carly knew enough. Emile had offered it as explanation, a past best left behind.

Drinks were poured and poured again, as Carly told of Blake and Emile told of her run-ins with Jack over the years. Every look Blake had given Carly, every word he had spoken was taken apart and analyzed. Jack's words and looks were subject to the same intense scrutiny, most especially the recent ones. The women giggled at the arrogance of men and plotted how best to handle them. When the whisky bottle was empty, Carly knew it was time to head home and relieve the sitter. It was just past midnight, but she had to be responsible.

"My boys would love you, if you let them," Carly offered, unknowingly echoing Jack's earlier words.

"I'll come over and we can talk tomorrow," Emile promised as Carly took her leave with one last hug.

Carly woke with a groan. Sunlight poured through the window. Apparently, she hadn't bothered to close the shades when she finally made it to her bed the night before. Not a real surprise, given they had finished a handle of whisky between just the two of them. She groaned again as a small finger poked her shoulder. She turned and squinted at Jason's serious face. Scooting into a sitting position, she pulled back the duvet and Jason crawled in.

"You find us something to watch," she told him, "I'm going to make some coffee and clean up a bit. I'll be back in a few minutes."

Jason nodded, searching out his favorite Saturday morning cartoons. Before long, he was snuggled up against Carly, watching the show intently as she sipped at her brew. When Caleb started crying, she brought him to the bed, too, along with his bottle.

And that was how Emile found them, piled into bed watching cartoons, when she stopped by as promised. Her heart squeezed at the sight of such easy, happy domesticity and she almost bolted. Carly's words stopped her imminent flight.

"There are muffins in the kitchen, and you're welcome to join us. I can't give you back your heart, but I can share these hooligans. Play at being Auntie, they need a replacement." Her words were soft and persuasive. Emile looked inside for strength, and found her wolf waiting for her.

"Trust them. They need you," her wolf said, offering her strength.

Kicking off her shoes, Emile crawled into the bed, passing out muffins. Leaning close to Jason, she whispered, "at least the crumbs won't be in my bed."

Jason suddenly looked at Emile with such intensity, she actually shuddered. "Oh, Jay-Jay," she cried softly, instinctively connecting with the anguish of loss she saw in his eyes. "I know, baby. God, do I know."

Emile pulled Jason into a tight embrace, holding him as he started to cry. She understood him. Some things hurt so badly they transcended words. She hadn't expected to find healing here, her heart filling with love for the nearly broken child. In her head, her wolf snorted.

Carly looked on, astonished at the unexpected development. After Emile revealed her past last night, Carly was resigning herself to losing her friend. She honestly hadn't expected her to show up. Now, she was a little stung that Jason so readily connected to her. All it had taken was a look.

Emile looked up, sensing her friend's thoughts. "Like calls to like." She said softly. "His soul is in agony in ways that you can't understand. I can."

Carly nodded, trusting Emile knew what she was talking about. Eventually Jason cried himself out, and dozed off. Carly cuddled a cranky Caleb as Emile comforted Jason, even in his sleep.

"Now," Emile said, "about that man of yours. You promised me you'd call." She raised an enquiring eyebrow.

"I promised, but only if you called yours," she returned the challenge.

"I called Jack before I came over," Emile said smugly, if not entirely honestly, holding out Carly's phone.

Carly protested a bit longer, but eventually caved to her friend's demands. In truth, a part of her had wanted to call Blake, but she still felt his offer hadn't been entirely sincere. He was everything she was not- handsome, confident, well put together. What could he possibly want with someone like her?

Emile didn't bother to hide her amusement when Carly finally relented. Although Carly was adamant that she would never actually phone Blake, she had programmed his number into her phone all the same.

"Hi, Blake," She said awkwardly, acutely aware that Emile was listening to her every word. "It's Carly, from the airport. I guess I was just calling to say hello. Give me a call, if you want." She rattled off her number and quickly disconnected.

"Doofus," Emile giggled, "That was probably the lamest voicemail message in the history of ever!"

"I know," Carly said helplessly. The women looked at each other, and dissolved into giggles. For several minutes, they could barely face one another, overwhelmed by the desire to laugh at the impossible situation.

"Hello?" Carly managed to answer the phone when it rang, desperately trying, and failing, to stifle the giggles.

"I feel like the hapless victim of a gaggle of girls at a sleepover," Blake said lightly, amusement in his tone, all the while wondering just what was going on.

"Maybe not a sleepover, but I am in bed with my best friend and two boys," Carly said, finally regaining her composure.

Blake managed to not say what he was thinking, his mind showing him pictures of what Carly in bed might look like, although his mental image was definitely devoid of friends and small children. "I'm glad you called. I'm going to be in The Cities on Wednesday for business. Can I take you out to dinner?" He held his breath, hoping she would answer favorably. He knew the question was rather sudden, but he wanted to see her again. "We can go somewhere family friendly; the boys are welcome to join us," He guessed at her hesitation.

"You don't have to do that," she said, her eyes pleading with Emile to fix this. She didn't want to talk with him on the phone, let alone go on a date.

"Ah, but I would like to," He responded easily. "I believe that Caleb still has much he would like to say to me. He was rather vocal the other day." His tone remained light and teasing, wearing down her defenses.

"Fine, we'll join you for dinner," she agreed grudgingly, "But only if it's our treat."

Emile rolled her eyes at her friend.

"You have done this before, right? You're not secretly a twelve-year-old or anything?" She asked, only half in jest, when Carly finally disconnected the call.

"It's been a while," Carly admitted, "but I have lived many a year on this earth. I have dated and kissed and even slept around. Men throw themselves at me almost daily. Why, I practically have to beat them away with a stick,' she finished, haughtily.

"Well, if you're not a naive youngling," Emile teased, "Why were you acting like it?"

"Blake isn't just anyone," She said slowly, feeling for the right words. "I feel like I have known him since forever, and I feel like he could easily be part of my life for the rest of forever. And it scares me, the way I feel. He's so, I don't know, he's such an alpha male, so confident and demanding. I could lose myself in him, and I don't want that. I don't want to give up me, not even for him."

Emile thought about it seriously, understanding completely. "I feel the same about Jack." She said slowly. "I guess we just have to trust in our men?"

Carly slipped out of bed with a sigh.

By the time the doorbell rang late Wednesday afternoon, Carly was half tempted to hand off the children to Blake for a moment of peace. The day had been long and arduous, with next to nothing going according to her plan. Jason had refused to comply with any of her directions, alternating between glaring and just walking away. It was almost enough to drive her insane. Caleb was handily supplying the last little push off the edge of sanity.

Blake wanted to take her in his arms as soon as she opened the door, he wanted to soothe the edge of hysteria he saw in her eyes. Instead, he reached for Caleb, who was screaming bloody murder and refusing to be comforted.

Carly looked at Blake wearing an expensive suit, easily calming the baby. Astonishment quickly turned furious. "You're hired."

"For what?" He asked, a bit cautiously, wary of the look in her eyes.

"To nanny for that demon until he learns to speak. And maybe even after. He hasn't stopped fussing for love or money, and ten seconds in your arms and he's acting like he's the most angelic thing this side of heaven." Her eyes were snapping, and she knew she was unloading her temper, but couldn't seem to stop.

"I guess it's just a guy thing?" he shrugged, trying to gauge just how close to the edge she was.

"Well, then do your 'guy thing' on Jason, too," she said sarcastically, complete with finger quotes, "because it is flapping difficult to have a conversation with someone who refuses to speak! Jason's mad at me, Caleb hates me, and I suck at this!" Her tone was frenzied, and Blake was concerned.

"Change of plans," he said, slipping easily into his Alpha mode, waving Carly into her own home with one hand. "You go and take a bath or do whatever it is you do to relax. I'll order pizza, and then have a little man-to-man chat with the boys. I'll let you know when the pizza arrives, and we'll eat in the living room. Jason gets to pick out the movie."

She glared at him for a long moment. "Fine. Just waltz in here and fix everything, you big stupid man," Carly muttered as she stomped away. She was perilously close to tears as she marched up the stairs and slammed the door. She knew she was being petulant, but she couldn't seem to help it. Caleb was taking to Blake like a fish to water, and Jason was bonding with Emile. She felt more alone and more like a gigantic failure than ever before. And Blake just breezed into her home, ordering things about to fit his whim. Carly was furious with herself for letting him take control, even as she was relieved. She had needed a moment to collect her nerves and recover her patience.

She hadn't taken a bath, as he had suggested. When the doorbell heralded the pizza delivery and she hadn't returned, Blake set Jason to gathering plates and napkins while he went to find Carly. She was starfished across her bed, snoring lightly. He took a moment to memorize her relaxed features, in sleep looking so innocent and carefree. He wanted to crawl into bed with her, and imagined the scene. Her waking as he tasted every inch of her skin, her writhing in pleasure as he slid slowly into her welcoming body... Lust hit him like a sledgehammer, and he decided that he would do anything to make that imagined scene play out in actuality. He continued to watch her sleep and imagine various ways to wake her, until he was snapped back to reality by Caleb's cry.

"Carly, honey," he said softly, gently stroking her hair away from her face, unable to resist touching her. She blinked several times, before he spoke again. "Pizza's here. Come on down and eat."

Carly sat up, stretching languidly, and groaned. Blake, trying to be a gentleman, hid just how is body reacted to hers. "I'm sorry for earlier," She said, looking at him, as he searched for composure. "It's been a rough day, but I shouldn't take it out on you."

"I told you once before," He said, reaching out a hand and pulling her to her feet. "I'm here for you, whatever you need. If you need to abuse someone, well, it isn't the most pleasant way to spend time, but I can take it." His simple words assured her that all was forgiven, but the gleam in his eye told her exactly what pleasant ways he was considering. Blushing, Carly pulled away and skipped lightly down the stairs.