Playing with Fire

Quinn

I woke up to a gray morning, my mind still tangled up in thoughts of Jax.

I got dressed, washed my face, and brushed my teeth. Then I headed downstairs for breakfast, feeling strange about going through this routine just like I used to when I lived with my mom.

Was Jax just a dream? Had I made up the last few wild months of my life?

When I reached the bottom of the stairs and saw Jaxon sitting at the kitchen table with my mother, I decided it was more of a nightmare.

“Morning,” I said, making my presence known.

They both greeted me back, but I wasn’t in the mood for morning chit-chat. I turned to my mother, feeling like a detective about to question her suspect.

“So, ready to talk yet?”

She gave me a tight-lipped look and pointed to the breakfast she’d prepared. Eggs. Toast. Fruit.

“I made breakfast,” she said, sounding almost hurt. “Why don’t we sit down and enjoy this first? You won’t want to hear what I have to say on an empty stomach.”

That was probably true, but it felt like she was breaking our deal. The more I let her get away with, the more likely she was to wriggle out of it.

My stomach growled, betraying me.

“Ugh. Fine.”

We sat down. While my mother was savoring every bite, deliberately taking her time, I ate quickly. Jaxon did the same, following my lead.

“Now?” I asked my mom after stuffing myself.

“How about you two pack up all your things first? Then we can talk outside on the front porch.”

“Jesus, Mom,” I grumbled, but Jaxon caught my eye. He seemed to be telling me to calm down.

Couldn’t he see what she was doing?

But I gritted my teeth. “Fine,” I found myself saying again.

~How many times would I have to say that before she gave in?~

I threw my few belongings into my backpack and bounded down the stairs for the second time that morning. It would be the last time—I was sure of that.

From the living room window, I could see my mother pacing the porch, her brow furrowed. Jaxon waited for me by the couch, his own bag slung over one shoulder.

“You good?” he asked.

I nodded. “Let’s do this.”

Together, we stepped out onto the creaky old porch. I turned to my mother.

“Okay. We’re all packed up and ready to go.” Struggling to keep my voice steady as my frustration grew, I demanded, “Tell us the story now.”

She avoided my gaze, looking off into the distance. “You know, I’ve been thinking. You may still be a little too young to hear the story.”

“MOM.”

That was it.

Frustration bubbled inside me like lava.

I couldn’t hold it in any longer.

I was about to explode.

Jeanette

“Good God, Mom!” Quinn suddenly yelled. “You deal with grief in the most pathetic, worst way. You can’t cope! You’re passive, which isn’t helping at all. Just sitting around here, building up a wall of mess around you. That can’t protect you from anything. You’ve turned into a full-on hoarder!”

I flinched at her harsh words.

How could I tell her that wasn’t true? That I had finally realized my way of dealing with tragedy hadn’t been helpful or healthy? That I was doing everything I could to change?

“Quinn, you don’t understand,” I began, but I knew she didn’t want to hear it. “The place is a mess because I haven’t been here in the house. I’ve been—“

“Dad would be disappointed in you, Mom. Seriously.”

At that, I swallowed my pride, speechless.

That one hurt.

Mostly because I knew she was right.

“Your life has revolved around me,” Quinn continued. With every word, her voice grew louder and stronger, as if all these realizations were just hitting her. “Around keeping me young and in need of protection. Grow a backbone already.”

“Quinn—” Jaxon started.

He looked very uncomfortable, and understandably so. It was kind of him to try to defend me.

Quinn held up a hand to stop him. “Stay out of this, Jax.”

My daughter turned back to me, with a fire in her eyes I'd never seen before. Or maybe I had, but back when she used to keep it under control. Now it was out, burning like a wild fire. Turning my resolve to ashes.

She had never stood up to me like this before.

Looking me straight in the eyes, she said, “Become your own person, Mom, and please treat me like an adult.”

I sighed in defeat.

Slowly, I walked over to the rocking chairs, which my husband Brandon and I had lined up on the porch many years ago.

Three in a row. For Brandon, me, and someday Quinn, we imagined. Jodie would sit in one occasionally while our little girl played in the yard.

I took a seat. Jaxon and Quinn followed my lead.

“Fine, Quinn. I’ll tell you everything I remember. But don’t say I didn’t warn you.”

She leaned in, listening intently. Jax looked equally interested.

I let my mind drift back to a scene from the past…

My relationship with Brandon had always been strong. And I liked Jodie, his sister, mainly because I never had any siblings. An only child, orphaned when my parents died, I was on my own. I had to take care of myself.

I loved Brandon for his love, and Jodie for treating me like a sister. She was rebellious and impulsive—which sometimes bothered me, but I could overlook it.

Until she got mixed up with the wrong crowd.

The rogues, they were called.

Valley-dwellers beyond the mountains to the east.

She was drawn to their darkness. The thrill. The rush. The shadows. They thrived on chaos and sought to ruin the few good wolves that remained.

Brandon, naturally, didn’t approve of Jodie’s decision to join their ranks. He tried to shake her out of it. I remember him shouting at her in the kitchen, but she was stubborn.

His opposition to Jodie’s involvement didn’t sit well with the rogues. They feared he might persuade her to leave.

That he might take Jodie from them.

So, they took him.

And years later, they took Jodie, too.

She insisted those wolves weren’t behind Brandon’s disappearance, but I had a hunch. It had to be them.

They took away my precious little family, and…

“Destroyed me,” I finished my story, feeling numb.

I turned to my daughter with determination. “And if you continue down this path, Quinn, you’ll be next. You’re chasing the thrill, playing with fire, but if you don’t stop, you’re going to hurt someone.”

Quinn

I was torn.

No wonder my mom didn’t want me to meet the wolves.

But it’s not like I chose this life.

Did Jodie? For all I knew, my mom could be making it all up. The twins suggested that Jodie might be a captive.

I didn’t know what to believe.

At least we had a lead now. We could go to the area she mentioned, the valley near the eastern mountains, and then…

I wasn’t sure what. Wander aimlessly until we stumbled upon some sort of headquarters? It seemed unlikely. A pretty aimless plan.

But it was all we had right now.

“Thank you for telling us all this,” I said, getting up from the old rocking chair. “We should get going.”

My mom looked disappointed. “So soon?”

“Yeah, Mom, it’s a long drive back.”

“Okay. Let me get the lunches I made for your trip.” She reached out and squeezed Jaxon’s shoulder.

“Oh, Mrs. Michaels, you didn’t have to do that.”

“I insist. They’re all packed up in brown paper bags. I’ll be right back,” she said, disappearing into the house.

Jaxon and I exchanged glances, both trying to digest everything she had just shared.

“Are you okay?” he asked me.

“Yeah. I just don’t know what to believe,” I admitted.

I turned away from the house, resting my hands on the porch railing, while Jaxon leaned against it, facing me. He watched the door, waiting for my mom, while I stared out into the surrounding woods.

What secrets were hidden behind those trees that I didn’t know about yet?

What didn’t I know about my own heritage? About my own abilities, which I’d barely explored?

~I'm a werewolf.~

I was still trying to accept that fact, which felt more like a fantasy.

I took a deep breath, letting the crisp mountain air fill my lungs.

Since the last time I’d stood on this porch, I’d learned a lifetime’s worth of information. But compared to what I still had to learn, it was just a tiny piece of the puzzle. One tree in an entire forest.

“Oh my God,” Jaxon suddenly gasped beside me, his voice filled with fear.

His face turned pale as he stared at the door.

I spun around.

There was my mom in the doorway, holding a rifle.

With trembling hands and clenched fists, she pointed it at Jaxon and me.

Holy shit.

The woman had lost her mind.

“You’re not going anywhere,” she said, her voice shaking. “I’m not letting you go back out there.”