Page 85 of Fool Moon First Aid

“Come on, tempest.” Ethan’s voice pulls me back from my thoughts, a thrill running through me. “I have somewhere I want to take you.”

I settle into the heated leather seats. “Where to?” I ask. I’m not tired, but my mind is worn out as I try to process everything.

My lips still tingle from his kiss.

A sigh escapes me at the thought, and my fingers brush my lips as if to capture the sensation again, but then reality intrudes in the form of my period. A cramp ripples through my body. So much for magical healing powers doing away with that inconvenience. At least it’s just a cramp…for now.

“Eh, it’s a surprise,” Ethan says, a secret smile in his voice. “How are you feeling?” he asks, turning to glance at me before focusing back on the road.

I let out a breath. “I don’t know how to even begin to answer that.” It’s the truth. How do I even start to unpack everything that’s happened, from shifting to his kiss?

“Don’t,” Ethan replies, his voice soft but firm. “If you can’t, then don’t. Your thoughts and emotions will come to you when you’re ready to process them.”

“When did you become a therapist?” I joke, resting my head against the headrest as we turn toward town, the familiar streets offering me a mirage of normalcy. That’s fine. I’ll hold onto that.

“I’m in line to be the clan’s alpha,” he reminds me, pride and responsibility woven into his words. “I’ve been shadowing my father since I could walk. I learned to handle more than just egos from a young age.”

“I imagine there’s a lot of testosterone flying around with a bunch of wolves,” I muse, trying to lighten the mood.

Ethan chuckles, then his hand finds my thigh, squeezing gently. “Usually, we’re pretty levelheaded…unless it comes to our mates.” His words carry a warning, laced with a promise of protection, and when he glances at me again, I see the resolve in his eyes—a silent vow against any threat, making me feel both treasured and fiercely guarded.

After tonight, they are never going to let me out of their sights, and I think a part of me is okay with that.

A surge of exhilaration zips through me as my wolf barks in vibrant agreement. It’s enough to coax a grin onto my face. “I can hear her,” I say, the wonder in my voice mingling with amusement.

“Your wolf,” Ethan says, his voice laced with understanding, since he’s intimately familiar with the unique bond I’m experiencing. “She’s become a part of you now. I’d wager she’s yearning for another run under the moon.”

Feeling her eagerness ripple through me, I visualize us—two spirits intertwined—racing through the moonlit forest, our hearts beating as one. “Is she separate from me?” I ask, curiosity in my tone.

“No,” Ethan responds, his voice carrying the warmth of a summer’s dusk. “She’s as much a part of you as you are her. Think of her as an alternate facet of your soul. It’s still you, just a distinct, vital part of your being.”

“There you go again, playing therapist,” I tease. “A midnight run sounds like a slice of heaven.”

“Soon,” he assures me, steering us onto a road veiled in memories.

Merger Ave.

A shiver of anticipation tickles my spine as he guides the car onto the northern end of the road, a place shadowed by the memory of where my mama breathed her last breath. It’s a spot shrouded in sorrow, untouched by my presence in the five long years since her departure.

I haven’t traversed this road since.

Even though it’s late, the avenue buzzes with life. Humans and spiritkin alike cast off the weight of the day for moments of joy, their friendship painting a picture of harmony and happiness.

Ethan finds a spot for the car in front of Dreamy Drizzles, the ice-cream shop that’s remained a charming relic of simpler times amidst the bustling street. As we approach, memories flood in—the sight of the cozy double doors, the sound of lively chatter, and the warm glow from the windows spark images of days long gone, especially of the booth where my youth blossomed into countless memories.

As Ethan exits the car, a torrent of memories washes over me—memories of a little girl, hand in hand with her mama, making their Sunday visit to this very spot after morning service. It was our thing, a time when the world would dim to a whisper, leaving just the two of us in a cocoon of shared secrets and laughter.

Ethan offers me his hand as he opens the door, pulling me back to the present. His eyes dart around, tinged with unspoken nervousness, as our palms meet. The cool embrace of the spring air swirls around us as he leads me inside to a place where the past and present converge.

A sense of something just beyond my grasp tugs at the edges of my consciousness, elusive yet achingly familiar. The aroma of freshly churned ice cream surrounds us, like a whirlwind of nostalgia that makes my mouth water.

“Do you know what you want?” Ethan’s gentle voice brings me back from the brink of the past.

I shake my head, feigning indecision, though I damn well know what I want. “I haven’t even looked,” I lie, already tasting the blend of cookie dough and mint chocolate chip on my tongue.

A smile tugs at the corners of his mouth, amusement lighting his eyes. “I’m going for black cherry.”

“Wise choice,” I quip, my voice dripping with playful sarcasm. “Only one scoop?”

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