Page 76 of Rocky Top

Not human.

Not monster.

Just… something in between. Something that had a choice to make.

Chapter 20

Birdie

I’d always prided myself on being the kind of woman who knew exactly who she was. Birdie Mae Foster, frilly, loud, always down for a good time, never without lip gloss or a sassy comeback. But ever since that damn bite, I couldn’t tell where I ended and this new, uninvited... thing inside me began.

I wasn’t me anymore. Or maybe I was too much me, and that was the problem.

Eliza’s guest room had become my little self-imposed prison. I’d taken to pacing it like a caged animal, which felt ironic in the most messed-up cosmic way possible. One minute I was crying over my favorite lotion smell making me nauseous, the next I was sniffing the air like a bloodhound every time Knox walked by. That man smelled like cedar and secrets, and it wasn’t even sexy. It was annoying. My nose had no boundaries now.

Worse than that, though, was the way I could feel Rocky.

Not just in my dreams, which were steamy enough to make my own toes curl, but in my blood. In my skin. Like my body remembered him even if I didn’t want it to.

I’d asked Eliza if it wasnormal.

She blinked at me, holding her nonexistent baby bump, looking too composed for someone whose baby might be a fox shifter. “Define normal, sweetie.”

I didn’t know how. All I knew was every time the wind changed, I wondered if I’d catch Rocky’s scent again—motor oil, leather, pine, and something else. Something wild.

And I hated that I missed it.

I hadn’t been back to the Wild Dog since I stormed out. Hadn’t texted him, called him, not even liked one of the thirst traps his club girls still posted of him on their socials. Seriously, how many shirtless photos of one man could possibly exist?

I was avoiding him. I knew it. Eliza knew it. Hell, even Emma knew it. That little girl looked me dead in the eye yesterday and said, “Aunt Birdie, you look sad. Did you and Rocky Top break up?”

“We weren’t dating,” I muttered into my orange juice.

“Then why’d he bite you?”

Eliza choked on her coffee.

Yeah. That kind of week.

So here I was, sitting on Eliza’s back porch in a pair of borrowed pajama pants and a hoodie with a hole in the armpit, staring out into the late spring dusk like some kind of lovesick possum.

I missed him.

Dammit, I missed him.

And I wasscared. More scared than I’d ever been in my life. Because I didn’t know if I could still be Birdie Mae Foster if I let myself be Rocky’s mate.

Did I have to trade my sunshine for his shadow?

The screen door creaked behind me. I didn’t have to look to know it was Eliza.

She settled into the rocker beside me and didn’t say anything for a long time. Just rocked with me. I appreciated that.

Finally, I broke the silence. “Do you ever think you made a mistake?”

She glanced over. “With Knox?”

I nodded.

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