2. Zoey #2
“Sam,” I said, trembling with emotion as he walked toward me.
Roland clung to my leg, peeking out at the man who had saved us.
“Thank you for making this happen,” I murmured as I hugged him tightly.
It had only been a week since he had liberated me from George’s compound, but that reunion had been brief and hurried.
Sam cleared his throat, visibly moved by the display of affection. “You don’t need to thank me, Zoey. You’re family. You’re just as much a daughter to me as Heather is, and I want you to remember that.”
His hug was tight and protective. It felt safe, a sharp contrast to the fear that George had instilled in me with every touch. Sam pulled back to look at us, and the moonlight caught the shimmer of unshed tears in his eyes.
“Seeing you here, free. Knowing you are away from the brute... I’m so relieved to have you safe,” he said, thick with emotion. “I spoke with Alpha Alexander when I returned. You’re both under pack protection. We’re a close-knit pack, and we always watch out for one another.”
“Safe,” I repeated in a whisper, finally allowing myself to believe in the word again.
“Always,” Sam affirmed with a nod. “You’re home, Zoey. You’re home.”
Heather prepared tea for the adults and a decadent hot chocolate topped with fluffy marshmallows and whipped cream for Roland.
Settled comfortably on the worn armchair in her living room, I shared some of the routes we’d taken over the last week to keep George off our backs.
Then, Heather and Sam updated me on their lives over the last five years.
I appreciated the fact that both refrained from peppering me with questions in front of Ro.
He’d witnessed enough without having to hear about it, too.
Ro yawned widely, his eyelids drooping. While we’d been talking, he’d been completely absorbed in the Lego set Heather had bought him, but the exhaustion from traveling was taking its toll.
“Can you show me where we’re sleeping, Heather?” I asked. “I think it’s bedtime for Ro-Ro.”
“Mom,” Ro growled, his cheeks flaming at the nickname. I didn’t miss his use of “Mom” instead of “Mommy.” He was growing up so fast. I hoped I’d gotten him away from George’s influence before it could taint my son.
“I’d best be off. I’ll see you tomorrow, right, Ro?” Sam asked as he stood.
Ro glanced at me first, and I nodded. Sam was a good man. The best.
Ro approached Sam with his hand held out, his face set with courage. “Thanks for helping us, Mr. Sam, sir,” Ro said. He’d paid less attention to the Legos than I’d thought.
Sam took my son’s small hand in his and shook it. “Thank you for getting your mom here, Ro. You’re a good son.” He appeared to think for a moment, taking in Ro’s serious expression. “Why don’t you call me Grandpa Sam?”
“Okay, Grandpa Sam,” Roland said, trying it out. His voice echoed with a maturity that went well beyond his tender age of eight.
I blinked back tears and glanced at my sister, who was discreetly trying to wipe away the tears on her cheeks.
“Say goodnight to Grandpa Sam, Ro,” I prompted.
After we said goodnight to Sam, Heather led us upstairs to the room she had assigned Ro. It was cozy and inviting, with what appeared to be brand-new blue bedding and curtains.
Groggy with sleep, Roland mechanically brushed his teeth while I helped him into his pajamas.
He was out before his head hit the pillow.
I brushed his hair away from his face and placed a tender kiss on his forehead.
Not wanting him to wake up in the dark, I left the light on in his en suite bathroom.
Closing the door quietly behind me, I took a cleansing breath. I braced myself for the impending conversation. Heather had a right to her questions, and I owed her the answers, but it didn’t make them any less humiliating.
I shook my head as anger surged inside me—anger at myself. Heather was my sister. She wasn’t going to judge me.
“Okay, all your bags are in the other guest room,” Heather said when I returned to the living room. She sat down and gestured for me to sit next to her on the couch, and her knee brushed against mine as I did.
“Thanks, Heather.” I barely recognized my hollow, strained voice.
“Zoey...” She worried her lower lip between her teeth. “You know you can talk to me about anything, right?”
I nodded, pulling at a loose thread on the cushion.
“It’s just... Mom went through so much before Sam came into our lives.
My father was a real piece of work and crushed her spirit.
She never truly recovered from it, and that damaged her relationship with Sam.
I don’t think she’s ever trusted another man, keeping a distance to protect herself.
I promised myself I’d never end up like that. ”
“Hey.” Heather was firm. “You’re not to blame for George’s actions. You’re brave, Zoey. You got out. That’s what matters.”
“But is it enough?”
“Damn right it is,” Heather snapped, her green eyes blazing. “And George? He’s not getting anywhere near you or Roland again. Not on my watch.”
My attempt at a smile was feeble. “I appreciate everything you’ve done for us. I can’t even think straight, I’m so tired.” I sighed as I gathered the dirty cups.
Heather took the cup I was holding. “I’ll take care of the dishes later. You go to bed.” With melodramatic flair, she declared, “Tomorrow is the first day of the rest of your life.”
Taking her at her word, I went upstairs, pulling my nightshirt out of my bag. In the bathroom, I went through the motions of brushing my teeth and changing my clothes. With a sigh of relief, I settled into bed and slipped into a deep slumber the moment my head hit the pillow.
The smell of coffee jolted me awake. I sat up in bed, heart pounding in my ears until I remembered where I was.
I was in Boldercrest. I was safe. Once my heart rate slowed, Roland’s animated conversation with Heather reached my ears, and I smiled.
So different than mornings with George, when we had to carefully assess his mood before taking any action or speaking any words.
I dressed quickly and joined my son and sister downstairs.
Heather was standing at the table with a cup of coffee in front of her.
“Is there one of those for me?” I asked.
“Mommy!” Ro bounded over, a wide grin splitting his face. “Auntie Heather is teaching me how to make pancakes. I’ve eaten four, and I made one for Heather, and she ate it all up and said it was the best pancake she’d ever had. Do you want one, Mommy?”
“How much sugar has Aunt Heather fed you?” I asked, but I smiled at him as he shrugged. His demeanor was a complete departure from the serious, uptight persona he’d maintained around his father.
“So, apart from pancakes, what’s on our agenda today?” I asked as Heather helped Ro pour batter into a frying pan.
“We’re going shopping.” Heather turned her head, tucking a strand of dark hair behind her ear.
I groaned. Shopping had been an exhausting chore when I was trying to squirrel away money.
“I don’t think Mommy likes shopping,” Ro remarked as he decorated my pancake with blueberries, raspberries, and enough maple syrup to make it all float. No wonder he was buzzing. The kid was hyped up on syrup.
“Don’t you dare groan, Zoey Lester.” Heather waved the spatula at me. “I know you love shopping.” She spoke to Ro as if I wasn’t in the room. “Your mom’s a girl, and girls love shopping.”
They joined me at the table, Ro carefully carrying the plate, his tongue poking out between his lips in concentration.
After we’d eaten breakfast and cleaned the dishes, I couldn’t put off the inevitable any longer.
“Let’s make a list,” Heather suggested as we grabbed our jackets. “You’ll need some things to get by for now.”
“Right,” I said. “Toothbrushes, shampoo... the weather is cooler, so we’ll need warmer clothes, and I didn’t take many of Roland’s toys. There just wasn’t time to pack. I couldn’t do it in advance. George would have noticed…”
When would everything stop revolving around that goddamn twisted shifter?
Heather seemed to anticipate the downward spiral my mood was taking. “Come on, Zoey. Let’s go shopping.”
We walked down the aisles of the local grocery store, filling the cart with essentials and a few treats. Every now and then, Heather added something extra, like a coloring book or a pack of Hot Wheels, trying to coax a smile from my son.
“Thanks for letting us stay, Heather,” I said softly as she tossed a box of cereal into the cart.
“No thanks needed. My home is your home, for as long as you need it.”
I nodded, grateful beyond words, but unsure how to express it.
When we left the store, a flyer pinned to the community board caught my eye. It advertised a new gym offering self-defense classes.
“Self-defense could be useful,” I mused aloud.
“Wait, let me see that.” Heather snatched the flyer and scanned it quickly. “Noah Alexander is running it. You know, he’s our future alpha.”
“Oh?”
“He’s amazing. Trustworthy, strong... we should sign up.
I know what you’re going to say—that because you’re human, you wouldn’t be any kind of match against a shifter.
But it’s not about hitting others, it’s about learning to defend yourself.
It’s always good to be prepared, right? You never know what’s in your future.
You’ll feel safer, and it’s a good chance to meet Noah before he steps up as alpha. ”
“Okay,” I agreed. “If you think it’s a good idea.” The thought of being able to protect myself and Roland was very appealing, and if Heather trusted this Noah, it was enough for me. “Let’s do it.”
“Great!” Heather beamed. “Why don’t we drop by the gym and enroll? It’s just around the corner. Strike while the iron is hot and stop you from talking yourself out of it.”
As we walked back to the car, I felt a little lighter, and a small spark of hope flickered inside me. Maybe, just maybe, things were starting to look up.