Page 8 of Same One
Her phone vibrated with a text, and tiredly, she checked it.
Tabian had messaged her. Tru sat up straighter and opened up the text in a rush. She hadn’t realized he’d texted himself from her number so he had access to messaging her.
It was nice to meet you today.
It was a simple text. Polite. Formal. But the butterflies it caused in her chest were overwhelming.
“Who is that?” Bayen asked, staring at her phone.
“You’ll never believe what happened today,” she said, an undercurrent of excitement zinging through her.
Bayen frowned. “What?”
“I met a werewolf.”
Bayen’s eyes blazed brighter. “Where?”
“In the coffee shop.”
“One of the Coeur d’Alene Lake Pack?” he asked low.
“No. Not a current one. A Rogue.”
The disappointment in Bayen showed in the way his shoulders slumped and the light faded from his eyes. “No thanks.” He put the car in drive and pressed his foot onto the gas, aiming them for McDonalds.
“Bayen—”
“Trudy, come on. Dad was a Rogue pretending to be worth a shit for long enough to drain a Pack and then get kicked out. Repeat dozens of times. We both know how Rogues are. They’re dead-end wolves. I don’t want to learn from a dead-end wolf.”
Fair. His dad had put him through some trauma with all of this. She understood.
“So, you really don’t want to meet this one? Do you want me to tell you which Rogue it is?”
“No. I don’t care.”
She puffed air out of her cheeks and relaxed back against the seat. “Okay, okay,” she grumbled.
“You gave him your number?” he asked protectively.
“Not like that.”
“I know your type. Yes, like that.”
“No, I’m serious! He’s young.”
“How young? My age?”
“No, thirty-one.”
He scrunched up his face in a look at her and then hit the gas through a green light. “He’s fuckin’ old.”
“Hey, language! I meant too young for me.”
“Whatever. Delete his number. You’re only dating humans from here on out.”
“Oh, you’re okay with me dating again?”
“No. You can try and we both know I’ll chase them off. I’m too hard to handle, bla bla.”
