Page 81 of Ice King

“So he’s working?” Roxanne pushed.

Samantha laughed. “Absolutely. He’d be out there in the woods, cutting down trees, hoisting the logs over his big, broad shoulders and carrying them to the sawmill himself if our father hadn’t put his foot down.”

“Did he say anything about Georgia? They are very good together.” Roxanne’s insistence was sweet.

“I agree and he adores her even if he doesn’t want to admit it, the big lunkhead.”

“Hello. I’m sitting right here.” I raised my hand, shifting my gaze from one back to the other. It was impossible to keep my glarefull of anger. “Just tell me if there’s something critically wrong with the man. I haven’t seen Ford at all and I’ve been afraid to ask anyone about his condition.” The truth was I didn’t want to bring up the subject for fear of being run out of town.

Maybe a little dramatic, but the people were hockey crazy. Was there such a thing as puck people? The images flashing through my mind were ridiculous.

“You haven’t asked because you’re stubborn just like he is.” Roxanne allowed one of her cutesy snorts. “You two really are two peas in a pod.”

Tell me something I didn’t know.

“Here’s the short version,” Samantha began. “You were right to be very concerned about his health and the level of pain he’d been experiencing. He’s the master of ignoring and forging on. When Ford was required to go to the hospital, the emergency room doctor was concerned enough that my brother was admitted for a night.”

“Wow,” Roxanne breathed, watching me carefully. Did she think I was suddenly going to break into some chorus about being right? I hated what I’d been forced to do.

“I know,” Samantha continued. “They did so because there was so much fear about how severe the break was. The x-rays were… Let’s just say even my mother was prepared to stand vigil, refusing to allow him to leave. Don’t worry. My idiot brother is healing and from what I heard about his last doctor’s appointment, he’ll be able to play hockey again as long as he rests. But with one hit, things would have been terrible. You were right to be concerned. And yes, the lunkhead knows that.”

Relief flooded me along with a healthy dose of fury. “Does your brother know he’s supposed to take it easy?”

Samantha laughed. “Yes, he does. As you might have guessed, he doesn’t like doctors and even went to one of ours to get a second opinion.”

One of theirs. I’d read a little more on the world surrounding shifters and didn’t like most of what I’d read. No wonder they hated anyone in the medical field as there were several professionals who wanted to dissect them to learn more.

“Can I ask you a question?” I posed.

“Anything.” At least Samantha wasn’t surly like her brother.

Even though there were no other customers, I leaned in to ensure no one could overhear us. “Is it really true about your anatomy in that you can heal at a faster rate than humans? What little I’ve read doesn’t provide detailed data.”

“That’s because you’ll likely never develop the full picture about shifters unless you talk to one of our elders. Even then, they likely won’t talk to you. If you think Ford has trust issues, you don’t understand our people.”

“You make it sound like just yesterday you remained in shifter form, foraging for food in the forests.” Roxanne laughed, causing me to follow suit.

Samantha wasn’t laughing.

Until our faces fell.

“Gotcha.” Her laugh was like a breath of fresh air, unconcerned that we were chatting about how and why her family transformed into wild beasts. There were days I believed I washigh on some toxin. “I’ve heard all the stories about our distant past, but certainly from what I’ve experienced in my life and what I’ve seen in pictures, we’ve been living in our human forms more than embracing our wolves for generations. Our medical professionals are hypersensitive to being grilled or allowing anyone into what they call their inner realm. As you might imagine, there are those who would exploit that information for personal or professional gain.”

Sighing, I glanced at the television. While I’d tried to avoid media of every type, I’d heard enough about the recent murders occurring in Washington State to know why people were on edge. I’d heard a few people discussing who could have murdered the shifters in cold blood, which had been deemed a sport, although my guess was the elders as she called them who frequented the coffee shop believed something else. No wonder they were cautious.

“To answer your question, yes. At least usually, often at two or three times the rate.” Samantha sipped her coffee.

“You say usually,” I pushed. “Why?”

Her shrug was just like her brother’s. Noncommittal, but I sensed there was a lot more to the story behind why Ford hadn’t healed.

“Wait a minute. What aren’t you saying?” Roxanne pushed her arm.

“Nothing important. Maybe you should try and pay Ford a visit.”

Now I snorted. “He’d toss me out on my butt or chase me through the forest like he did in the dream I had.” And why in God’s name did I admit to something so private?

And sensual?