The Wolf’s Forbidden Mate by Layla Silver

Chapter 4 — Waverly

I scrolled through some cat pictures on my laptop while dreampop played in the background. The form I was making for a cat plushie had to be absolutely perfect. Though it felt like the pictures on the screen were taunting me—because I still desperately wanted a kitten—they also gave me a point of reference to make the form come to life.

These should be realistic enough, I considered as I clicked on a picture of a plump cat. Let me go ask Hailey.

My limbs went rigid with the striking memory that Hailey wasn’t in the house anymore. She was always the person I went to for a second opinion. She was always around for that and now she wasn’t. My eyebrows knitted together as I let my shoulders slump forward, defeat permeating every limb. I sat back from my desk and rocked myself gently in the office chair.

I feel abandoned.

The thought prompted a groan to escape my lips. It was a silly thought, one that had absolutely no right living rent-free in my brain. It was absurd. It was illogical. I wasn’t abandoned by my sister—Hailey never left. All she did was move to a different house. She still lived ten minutes way with her mate.

I blew a curly lock of hair out of my face and leaned over my laptop, trying to get back into my work. But every few seconds, Hailey returned to the front of my mind with the same persistence as Laurene.

I needed velvet for the next piece—Hailey is gone—and then I needed to measure twice before cutting—She left—and then I would need to make sure all symmetrical pieces lined up perfectly—I have no one left here who understands me.

I huffed as I grabbed my supplies from the basket seated on the left side of the desk. I snatched the velvet fabric, grabbed a couple of eyeballs that I set on the desk, and turned to the right where my sewing machine was located. I grabbed my tools to measure. I lifted the scissors carefully, thinking about chucking them across the room, but then thinking better of it.

I didn’t want to ruin my environment or my tools. Why would I do that? Why would I sabotage myself?

Because I’m lonely.

Hailey had been right. Her absence was like a crater and I wasn’t sure how to cope with it. I was fine up until recently. I wasn’t sure why the void feeling suddenly appeared, but I couldn’t deny it. The more I tried to push it down, the more it came back with a viciousness, the same kind that came from an animal backed into a corner.

It was me. I was the animal. I hadn’t felt this terrible and depressed since our father left us. Hailey had practically taken over the house after that. She kept us in a healthy routine, she cooked for us, she held us when we were upset. Hailey was a second mother to me. Having her leave was like losing a parent.

Again.

I took a few breaths as I leaned over my desk. I measured the fabric twice, marked the proper areas, and then lifted the scissors to cut. Soon, I picked up a steady rhythm of measuring, marking, and snipping. The sound of it filled the space around me, a rhythmic white noise that put me at peace. I smiled when all the material was cut perfectly. I rested the pieces on my desk, spreading them out so I could see each one.

In my mind’s eye, I could already picture the end result. I could see the pieces coming together, the thread weaving between bits of fabric to draw them together. It was what made my business so successful. I could recreate just about anything at nearly any scale. It’s why the furries ordered so much from me.

Which meant I kept busy. And keeping busy meant keeping Hailey’s absence from my brain.

Well, it mostly kept her absence out of my brain.

I reached for the box of thread next to the sewing machine and propped it on my lap. I plucked through my options and frowned when I couldn’t locate the tawny thread.

“This needs to be perfect,” I said as I set the box down. “I’ll just have to drive into town. Whatever will I do?”

I wasn’t particularly upset that I had to leave the house. Since losing two sisters to marriages, Laurene and I were at each other’s throats. Aunt Evangeline was in the garden most days. Mom was quiet as usual, but the silence was getting to be a little more tense than I would have liked. Leaving the house meant leaving some of this anxiety behind.

I lifted the pieces I had stitched together so far and tucked them gently into my satchel. I made sure my wallet and keys were in my bag and slid on my sneakers. The house was quiet as I descended the stairs. I hopped into my car, set my satchel in the passenger seat, and headed to Boston.

***

The craft store came up on my right as I pulled up to the curb and popped the car into park. I grabbed my satchel and wandered toward the door, placing my hand on the knob as I registered that flyers were posted in the window. A rather colorful poster with hand drawn cats prancing around bold letters announced an auction that would happen a month from now. It called for artists in the Boston area to donate art to the cause.

Paw Pride Shelter, I read. My eyes bulged. Wait, I was just looking at that place the other day.

I pulled the handle and listened to the familiar chime of the bell above the door. A woman called from the back of the store, “Be right there!”

I smiled. “Take your time Mildred.”

“Ah, is that Waverly I just heard?”

“Sure is.”

A short, round woman wearing a white blouse with a pattern of pale yellow flowers and blue jeans beneath a red apron shuffled up one of the aisles to the right of the counter. Her dark brown hair curled around her face, some of the gray strands glimmering like silver when she turned her head. She plopped a collection of sketch pads on the counter near the register.

“Back for more thread?”

I grinned. “How did you know?”

“You’re one of my repeat customers—one of my best repeat customers.”

“I need tawny thread. Do you have any on the shelf?”

She nodded with a grin while gesturing to the third aisle. “In the usual place. I just stocked up on some.”

“Thanks, Mildred.”

“What are you making today?”

I ducked into the third aisle and walked purposefully toward the rows upon rows of thread rising like a wave to my right. I sifted through a few and plucked the ones I needed plus an extra one for when I ran out. It was bound to happen. It always happened. I went through thread faster than someone with a cold going through tissues.

“It’s for a plushie,” I called over my shoulder. I chuckled when Mildred gave her customary knowing snort in response. I nodded and added, “It’s a cat this time.”

“Who could have guessed?”

I brought my items to the front, grabbed a sketchpad from the stack on the counter, and watched as Mildred rang up my items.

“Hey, speaking of cats,” I said while gesturing toward the flyer. “Can you tell me more about that auction?”

She smiled weakly. “Honestly, it’s bound to fail.”

“Why do you say that?”

“They are never getting enough interest.”

I frowned. “Nobody goes there? It’s a cat shelter. Who wouldn’t want a cat?”

“I don’t think it has much to do with people not wanting cats.”

“Then, what is it?”

She glanced toward the door behind me and then rolled her eyes around the store as though to check for customers which seemed rather silly. The store was empty right now. In a conspiratorial whisper, she replied, “Rumor has it they’re in debt.”

“Isn’t that even more reason to go adopt from them? Or donate? Or do something?”

“Too much debt means they’ll have to close soon. I guess people don’t want their money going to a place that won’t be around anymore.”

My features scrunched together in sympathy. “That just sounds awful. Even if they did have to close, it’s still worth trying.”

“You always had a big heart.” She smiled as she gestured to the miniature screen above the register. “That’ll be $30, even.”

“Gee, how much were the sketchbooks?”

“They’re made with high-end paper.”

I giggled and winked as I handed her a few bills. “I’m just teasing you, Mildred. This store always has better quality products. I’m willing to pay more for that.”

“Bless you for that.”

She handed over the paper bag of items and smiled warmly as I headed toward the door. I waved over my shoulder and then grabbed the flyer from the door. If the shelter was in trouble, I wanted to do everything I could to help them out. Screw the whole pack vs. pride thing. We lived in the modern world now. Ancient battles between prides and packs were so outdated.

As I slid into my car, I set the paper bag in the passenger seat along with my satchel. I turned the key in the ignition and checked the address on the flyer. I plugged the address into my navigation app and set it in the holder on the dashboard. I would be heading to the outskirts, but it would be worth the effort. Besides, I had time today.

Helping this shelter will distract me from my worries, I thought as I carefully peeled away from the curb. Hailey would be proud. Her husband would have a fit. I don’t really care anymore.

My desperation overwhelmed any concern about what this might look like to either the pride or the pack. It didn’t matter anymore. All that mattered was that I had something else to do besides sewing things in my room all day. I loved my job, I loved my clients, and I loved my family, but I needed to get out of the house. I needed to be around someone who wasn’t in my house.

And a dozen or more cats sounded like just the thing I needed.