from Abel. All it said was, Gone to hunt Cain.
Abel was gone?
She sat down on the edge of her bed, feeling even sicker than ever.
Rylie showed Seth the note at breakfast, while Crystal and Trevin devoured a cow’s worth of steak. All he said was, “Okay.” Like it wasn’t a big deal. Like Rylie didn’t feel like an important part of her life had just been amputated.
They got back on the road an hour later—even though Rylie felt like she was on the verge of throwing up again, and the smell of the car’s oils weren’t helping.
Nobody talked as they beelined for California.
They stopped in town to fill up the gas tank, and Rylie took the chance to pace the parking lot, hands hooked together behind her head. She was feeling a little better than before—still exhausted, but not as queasy.
Maybe she wasn’t sick after all. Maybe it was just stress.
But then she walked around the back of the gas station, and it came over her all at once.
Rylie threw up all over the ground.
She groaned and wiped her mouth clean on the back of her hand. A feeling of dread crept over Rylie as she stared at the puddle of vomit.
Werewolves didn’t get sick.
But there was more than one reason she could be throwing up.
“No way,” she whispered.
Seth was putting the cap back on the gas tank when she recovered enough to walk around to the other side of the parking lot again. He hadn’t seen her throw up. Crystal and Trevin looked like they were arguing in the backseat of the van.
“Ready to go?” Seth asked.
“Yeah, I just need to use the bathroom,” she said. “I’m not feeling awesome.”
“Take your time. I’ll stretch my legs,” Seth said.
Rylie ducked into the gas station and pulled a wad of cash out of her pocket. Twenty-three dollars. Would it be enough?
Her cheeks burned as she found the aisle with the condoms, headache medicine, and pregnancy tests. They had two different brands. One of them was for early detection, and the other had two sticks in it.
The one with the two sticks was a dollar cheaper, so she grabbed it. She also picked up a pack of gum and a green tea before going to the counter.
“Congrats,” said the grizzled old woman behind the counter. Her nametag said “Brenda.”
Rylie blinked. “Huh?”
“Congrats on the good news. That’ll be twenty-one fifty.” She dropped the pregnancy test into a bag.
Rylie didn’t think her cheeks could have burned any hotter. “I don’t think I’m really pregnant. It’s just in case.”
Brenda gave her a knowing look and pulled the bathroom key off of the wall. “Come on.”
She set a sign on the counter that said “Out for Lunch,” and then took Rylie to the bathrooms and unlocked the door.
“Thanks,” Rylie said.
“Hang on a second.” Brenda disappeared, and came back with a paper cup from the break room. “You’ll need this. You have to pee in the cup and put the sticks in them. Read the directions. They’re pretty good. I’ve got six kids, myself.”
Six kids? Rylie felt dizzy.
“I’m not pregnant,” she whispered.
Brenda patted her on the shoulder, pushed her into the bathroom, and shut the door.
The light over the toilet flickered on. Rylie opened the box and read the instructions. Brenda was right—they were very clear. It would be pretty hard to mess it up.
Her heart pounded as she did her business, dipped the sticks in her urine, and set them on the edge of the sink.
The instructions said three minutes. Three minutes until Rylie would know.
She paced around the tiny, dingy bathroom with her hands jammed under her arms.
What if she was pregnant? A werewolf that had babies would have more werewolves. Cain was proof of that. And she had promised not to continue the species.
It wasn’t that Rylie didn’t want to be a mom—she just hadn’t ever given it that much thought. She didn’t get along with her own mother, Jessica. They had zero interests in common. And the only other mom she knew well at all was
Abel was gone?
She sat down on the edge of her bed, feeling even sicker than ever.
Rylie showed Seth the note at breakfast, while Crystal and Trevin devoured a cow’s worth of steak. All he said was, “Okay.” Like it wasn’t a big deal. Like Rylie didn’t feel like an important part of her life had just been amputated.
They got back on the road an hour later—even though Rylie felt like she was on the verge of throwing up again, and the smell of the car’s oils weren’t helping.
Nobody talked as they beelined for California.
They stopped in town to fill up the gas tank, and Rylie took the chance to pace the parking lot, hands hooked together behind her head. She was feeling a little better than before—still exhausted, but not as queasy.
Maybe she wasn’t sick after all. Maybe it was just stress.
But then she walked around the back of the gas station, and it came over her all at once.
Rylie threw up all over the ground.
She groaned and wiped her mouth clean on the back of her hand. A feeling of dread crept over Rylie as she stared at the puddle of vomit.
Werewolves didn’t get sick.
But there was more than one reason she could be throwing up.
“No way,” she whispered.
Seth was putting the cap back on the gas tank when she recovered enough to walk around to the other side of the parking lot again. He hadn’t seen her throw up. Crystal and Trevin looked like they were arguing in the backseat of the van.
“Ready to go?” Seth asked.
“Yeah, I just need to use the bathroom,” she said. “I’m not feeling awesome.”
“Take your time. I’ll stretch my legs,” Seth said.
Rylie ducked into the gas station and pulled a wad of cash out of her pocket. Twenty-three dollars. Would it be enough?
Her cheeks burned as she found the aisle with the condoms, headache medicine, and pregnancy tests. They had two different brands. One of them was for early detection, and the other had two sticks in it.
The one with the two sticks was a dollar cheaper, so she grabbed it. She also picked up a pack of gum and a green tea before going to the counter.
“Congrats,” said the grizzled old woman behind the counter. Her nametag said “Brenda.”
Rylie blinked. “Huh?”
“Congrats on the good news. That’ll be twenty-one fifty.” She dropped the pregnancy test into a bag.
Rylie didn’t think her cheeks could have burned any hotter. “I don’t think I’m really pregnant. It’s just in case.”
Brenda gave her a knowing look and pulled the bathroom key off of the wall. “Come on.”
She set a sign on the counter that said “Out for Lunch,” and then took Rylie to the bathrooms and unlocked the door.
“Thanks,” Rylie said.
“Hang on a second.” Brenda disappeared, and came back with a paper cup from the break room. “You’ll need this. You have to pee in the cup and put the sticks in them. Read the directions. They’re pretty good. I’ve got six kids, myself.”
Six kids? Rylie felt dizzy.
“I’m not pregnant,” she whispered.
Brenda patted her on the shoulder, pushed her into the bathroom, and shut the door.
The light over the toilet flickered on. Rylie opened the box and read the instructions. Brenda was right—they were very clear. It would be pretty hard to mess it up.
Her heart pounded as she did her business, dipped the sticks in her urine, and set them on the edge of the sink.
The instructions said three minutes. Three minutes until Rylie would know.
She paced around the tiny, dingy bathroom with her hands jammed under her arms.
What if she was pregnant? A werewolf that had babies would have more werewolves. Cain was proof of that. And she had promised not to continue the species.
It wasn’t that Rylie didn’t want to be a mom—she just hadn’t ever given it that much thought. She didn’t get along with her own mother, Jessica. They had zero interests in common. And the only other mom she knew well at all was
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