33

33
ALICIA
“Where are we going?” I ask Brandon as we walk across the far side of Greystone.
“It’s a surprise,” he says. “There are some things you might not know about the Greystone Pack.”
“I did grow up here, you know,” I remind him. What does he think he’s going to show me that I won’t already know about?
“I’m aware,” he says. “But that doesn’t mean you know everything. Some stuff has changed since you were growing up here. Some of it for the better.”
“Really?” I have to admit, I’m curious.
“This building, for example.” He waves a hand at it. “Wasn’t here when you left.”
“No, it wasn’t.” I frown, thinking back. “Was it here two years ago, when I came to visit?”
“Yes, but I don’t blame you for not noticing. It’s pretty far from the center of the pack territory.”
“What happens here? What’s it for?”
“Meetings,” Brandon says. “Anyone who wants to can reserve it.” He points to a clipboard. “This is where they sign up, see?”
I look at the sign-up sheet. “What’s happening in there now?”
“Well, that’s why I brought you here,” he says. “There’s a wolf women’s group in there.”
“What’s a wolf women’s group?” I’ve never heard of such a thing.
“Oh, they get together and talk about their issues,” he says. “It’s a place where the women of the pack can deal with complaints about the men and about pack management without having to worry about being talked over.”
“Can we go in?” I ask. “You can.”
“You don’t want to?” Was he put off by the idea of a group of women?
“It isn’t that,” Brandon says. “I’m not allowed. Women only. No men can come inside while they’re meeting. If we did, it would ruin it.”
“Was that your idea too?”
“Well, no, they came up with that policy themselves. But it’s a pretty good one, don’t you think?”
“I do.”
“Do you want to check it out?”
“Maybe for just a moment,” I say. “Would you mind?” “Not at all. I’ll wait out here.”
I step inside the door and let it close softly behind me, not wanting to interrupt the meeting.
A few people do look up as I enter the room, but their conversation doesn’t stop. I get the feeling they are used to women looking in on this, deciding whether or not it might be right for them. One of the women raises her
eyebrows and beckons me over, but I shake my head. I’m fine where I am for now.
I listen as one of the women describes her mate’s relationship with their son. “He’s raising our kid to be the same kind of man he is,” she explains. “The same kind of man his father was. I love my mate, I do, but it’s taken me years to break him of the habit of fighting at the drop of a hat.”
“At least your mate takes an interest in helping with your kids,” another woman says. “Mine is out with his friends most nights. He sees bringing up the kids as my job.”
I wonder to myself as I listen whether Brandon would be anything like these women’s mates. I don’t think he would. It’s hard to picture him leaving me alone all the time so that he could spend time with the guys. And if he knew Emmy was his, I don’t think he would neglect her.
I do empathize with the woman who isn’t sure she likes how her mate is raising their son, though. That’s a problem I can imagine having.
I don’t want to join their conversation, mostly because I don’t think I have anything to add that I would be comfortable sharing. But I can’t help thinking about how my life would have been different if this group had existed when I was growing up.
When the conversation starts heading toward a close, one of the women gets up and walks over to me. “Hey,” she says. “You’re new.”
She’s maybe ten years younger than I am, so she wouldn’t remember me from the old days. I’m not surprised she doesn’t know me. “Yeah,” I agree, because I don’t want to explain.
“What did you think of the group?”
I have to admit, I’m impressed. “Whose idea was this?”
“One of the guys, actually,” she says. “Do you know Brandon?”
“Brandon, who’s third in line for alpha?” I can’t believe this. “He came up with the idea of a women’s group?”
“Is that so hard to believe?”
“It just doesn’t seem like something a man would think of. It seems like something women would put in place and men would try to put a stop to.”
“There are plenty of men who don’t like it,” the woman says. “But the women in this pack have lived under the thumbs of their fathers and mates for a really long time. I mean, look at what used to happen when it was time for us to mate. A mate would be chosen for you, and you didn’t even have the chance to voice dissent until the middle of the mating ceremony. Women need to have a chance to say no before that.”
“You mean it isn’t like that anymore?”
“That was one of the first things this group did. We petitioned pack leadership to give us a voice earlier in that process. We even went on strike for a while-we said no one would accept a mate unless we were all included in the choosing process. Now a woman picks for herself and brings the mate she wants to her father. It’s all decided before the ceremony ever takes place.”
That’s amazing. What if it had been like this when I’d belonged to the pack? What if I could have quietly told my father all those years ago that I didn’t want Brandon-that I wasn’t ready to mate at all-instead of making a public show of things?
Maybe I could have stayed.
It’s so hard to think about things in those terms. It’s hard to imagine staying as a real possibility. But if I could have stayed back then, is it possible that I could stay now?
Brandon is right. The pack isn’t the same as I remember it being when I
was young.
And Kayla was right, too: Brandon has also changed. He must have changed if he could have put this together.
Seeing this has made me feel more confused than ever. It was easier when I was sure that the pack was a terrible, toxic place. It was easier when I had myself convinced that Brandon was still the bad boy he was in our youth.
If those things aren’t true anymore, then don’t I owe it to myself-and to my daughter-to at least consider staying?