“You’re overthinking it,” I replied defensively. But was he really? I was wearing them for the exact reason Nash thought I was — to be like Brandon. I couldn’t admit it to him, or anyone else. It was best to deflect the attention I was bringing to myself and Brandon.
“So, is it love?” Nash asked.
“What do you mean?” I was startled by his directness.
“Are you in love?”
“What are you talking about? In love with whom?”
He took my hand.
“I’d like us to get back together.” He took my other hand and pulled me close. “You want me to pay attention to you. I get that. So I will.”
I liked Nash. He was handsome and popular and had moments of being a great boyfriend. Before we’d begun dating, I’d had a crush on him since I could remember. Every girl did. But as gorgeous and athletic as he was, we ultimately had different values and goals. And I was in love with another guy.
“I don’t think we should keep seeing each other,” I said. “We want different things.”
Nash dropped my hands in disgust. He paused, his face flushed red.
“You’ll see,” he said. “You’ll be begging to go back out with me. You mark my words.”
My ex-boyfriend hopped in his car and sped off into the distance.
I still wanted to tell Brandon about Mr. Worthington’s remarks. The only thing on my mind was being in his arms. But I arrived at his house to find him holding something else — groceries.
He was helping a woman get produce out of her hatchback.
Brandon hurried over to me carrying several bags.
“Hey, Celeste,” he said.
“Hi. Did I come over at a bad time?”
“No, I’m just helping out. I’d like you to meet someone.”
I followed Brandon to the car. A very stately woman with perfectly styled brown hair greeted me with a smile that looked remarkably like Brandon’s.
“Grandma, this is Celeste.”
“Hi, Celeste. It is wonderful to meet you.”
“You, too, Mrs. Maddox.”
“You can call me Barb,” she continued sweetly. “I am so happy Brandon has a friend,” she said as if she was taking me under her wing. “I worried so when he moved here after school had already begun. Well, I am so happy to know why he’s been keeping to himself and acting so…” She rolled her eyes. “Now I know why he’s been behaving so strangely,” she said, winking at me. “Would you like to come in for hot chocolate and cake?”
I looked to Brandon for an answer.
“We have to study, Gram. But thanks.”
“Perhaps another time,” she said, walking up the back stairs.
“Yes, I’d love to,” I said.
“I’ll only be a minute.” Brandon followed his grandmother with the groceries and met me inside his guesthouse.
“She is so cute!” I said. “I love her.”
“She is sweet, but she can be a bit…”
“Grandmotherish?”
“Exactly.”
“Is it lonely back here, with your grandparents in the main house?”
“Not now,” he said, engulfing me in his strong embrace.
We settled in his guesthouse for a quiet afternoon. We talked a little about my research into werewolf folklore and how I wondered if there could possibly be a cure that wasn’t a silver bullet. I mentioned meeting Dr. Meadows again, but Brandon still wasn’t sure he wanted to reveal his secret. While Brandon spent some time researching werewolves on his computer, I leafed through the books he had on his shelf. I saw a vintage Hardy Boys and pulled it out. Pictures were stuffed inside. I examined the first one.
I was stunned. Staring back at me was the same picture Mr. Worthington had in his room. I turned the picture over and inscribed in pencil was the name Claire Worthington.
I was afraid to speak.
“Who is this woman?” I asked.
Brandon turned to me. “She’s my mother.”
I gasped.
“What?” he asked. “It’s like you’ve just seen a ghost.”
“I just…” I began.
“I haven’t seen her since I was a kid,” he said. “I was raised by my father.”
“Brandon, I’ve seen this picture before.”
“What? You couldn’t have. Where, here?”
“I know this man at the retirement community. He’s so kind, and a gentleman. We spend a lot of time talking, and recently he told me the story of his great-grandfather, who was bitten by a wolf.”
“That’s weird.”
“He said that his great-grandfather was never the same.”
“Sounds familiar.”
“This man I know, his name is Charles Worthington. Do you know him?”
“No.”
“He has a granddaughter. Her name is Claire Worthington.”
“That must be a coincidence.”
“You told me your mother’s family moved away.”
“Yes,” he said.
“Well, no one told you that one of them moved back.”
Brandon was trying to process this new information.
“It’s more than coincidence, Brandon. My friend Mr. Worthington is your great-grandfather!”
Ivy, Abby, and Nash and I were hanging out after school in the gymnasium. Nash and Abby were waiting for their various athletic practices to begin, and I was trying to stall until I’d be in the clear to catch up with Brandon and take him to Penny for Your Thoughts. I glanced out one of the windows and spotted a woman with long gray hair and bundled up in a tan parka roaming our campus sidewalk as if she was looking for someone in particular.
I pressed my face closer to the glass and recognized it was Dr. Meadows.
“What is she doing here?” Ivy asked, also spotting the psychic.
“I don’t know,” I said. “I better find out.”
”Why would you want to do that?”
I headed down the bleachers and raced ahead before my friends could follow me. I opened the gymnasium doors and caught up to the psychic.
“What are you doing here?” I whispered.
“You didn’t show up at my store. I was concerned something happened to you,” she said.
“I’ve been trying to convince him to see you. It’s taking some time. But I think he will.”
“That is great,” she said. “But it has to be soon.”
“We discovered it’s in his blood,” I said softly. “The lycan lineage goes generations back.”
“Which one is he?” she asked. “No, wait — don’t tell me.”
Just then my friends, their beaux, and Nash opened the gymnasium doors. Dr. Meadows pointed to Nash.
I half laughed.
“I must see him at night,” she said urgently, looking at Nash.
“But it’s not a full moon again for weeks.”
