Chapter 84

Ava

I stood in front of the full-length mirror in my bedroom, holding up a flowy dress that felt down to my ankles. It was a bit heavier than what I would normally be wearing right now, but the human continent was always a bit colder than it was here on the werewolf continent—thanks to the volcanic springs beneath the island that kept everything warm.

With a satisfied nod, I decided that I would pack it and draped the dress over the back of my vanity chair before turning to dig through my closet once more. Chris hadn’t given me many details beyond telling me to pack a bag, but I wanted to be prepared for any potential activities or outings he might have planned.

I pulled out a couple skirts and sweaters, as well as some matching accessories. The idea of going on a weekend getaway with Chris was exciting. It would, after all, be our first official outing as a couple.

Goddess, it still felt strange to call ourselves that: a couple. It still felt, wrong, taboo, but it also felt so… right.

I just wished that the Elders would approve. But, Chris had assured me that he would handle it. We just needed to keep our heads down in the meantime and wait for the right time to reveal our relationship.

Hopefully this weekend trip wouldn’t get in the way of that.

I was just reaching for a bag to pack my toiletries into when a sudden, ear-splitting crash shattered the peaceful silence of my bedroom. I whirled around with a startled gasp just in time to see shards of glass exploding inward, scattering across the hardwood.

For a wild moment, my heart stuttered in my chest, panic seizing me as my mind immediately leapt to the most sinister of conclusions. An intruder? An attack? Had that Beta that had almost killed Chris come back for revenge, somehow?

But when the dust settled, the only evidence of foul play was a solitary baseball rolling across the floor.

Sighing, I strode toward the shattered window, skirting around the jagged shards of glass littering the floor. I peered outside, my eyes sweeping the overgrown yard in search of any sign of the culprit.

“Hey!” I called out, leaning precariously through the broken window. “Who did this?!”

I half expected a couple of bashful teens to step out of the bushes and confess to their innocent crimes. But, much to my chagrin, the warm spring evening remained undisturbed. There wasn’t a soul in sight. Not even a whisper.

A frustrated huff escaped my lips as I bent over to pick up the baseball. Probably one of the neighbor kids, I thought to myself—and they had likely booked it for the hills when they saw their ball sailing toward my window.

But as tempting as it was to march out there and hunt down the kids so I could haul them back to their parents, I decided to wait for now and handle that part another day. It was just a window, likely an accident, something that I would have done myself as a kid; and right now, the shattered glass all over my floor required more attention.

I sighed, running my hand through my hair as I looked down at the mess. Not long ago, I would have simply called Ethan to handle a task like this. Windows, faucets, loose shingles… he had always been the one to take care of those more hands-on chores around the house and property.

But things were different now. Ethan was gone, and Chris…

For a moment, I slipped my phone out of my pocket to give Chris a call. Surely he could come and fix this, or at least send someone who could.

But just as I was about to dial his number, I stopped myself, biting my lip.

No. I wanted to do it myself.

Straightening my shoulders, I made my way downstairs, determined to handle this myself. After all, I was an adult woman in the prime of my life—I could replace a damn window without needing to rely on the first able-bodied man who crossed my path.

First, I began by cleaning up the broken glass, taking care not to step on any. I swept it up and tossed it in the rubbish bin, and then got to work fixing the broken frame before any bugs or birds could get in.

I headed outside and gathered the necessary tools from the tool shed along with a spare pane of glass, carting them back up to my bedroom. If I was being honest, there was something almost… freeing about handling this without asking a man to do it, even if I had no idea what I was doing.

That wasn’t to say I didn’t still appreciate the intimacy and companionship that came with being part of a committed, loving relationship—the kind of bond I now had with Chris. I simply no longer felt the need to play the role of the helpless damsel, waiting around to be rescued from every little crisis that came my way.

I was perfectly capable of taking care of myself these days. And as I carefully pried out the remaining shards of broken glass and began measuring the fresh pane to fit the frame, that fact filled me with an almost giddy sense of empowerment.

Of course, that initial rush of adrenaline and self-assuredness soon faded as other, more tedious tasks revealed themselves.

Once the window was secure, I noticed the wooden frame was beginning to peel and crack, likely in need of a fresh coat of paint and sealant. And as I made my way to the bathroom to clean myself up, I couldn’t help but notice the leaky faucet in the tub—one I had been meaning to fix for weeks now.

Well, I supposed there was no time like the present.

I rolled up the sleeves of my shirt, pulling my hair back into a messy ponytail as I got to work. Before I knew it, I had lost track of time as I patched and repaired and tinkered, moving from one minor project to the next until I was covered in sweat and sawdust and flecks of dried paint.

By the time the sun was beginning to set, my tidy little cottage had turned into a veritable construction site, with buckets of paint, piles of sandpaper, nails and screws and other hanging accouterments, and various tools.

To put it bluntly, it was a mess. A damn mess.

But I enjoyed it, in a strange sort of way. I enjoyed the chaos and that profound sense of satisfaction in fixing something, even if maybe I didn’t do as good of a job as a professional. I turned up the music on my radio, sang along to the stupid pop songs that echoed through the house, and allowed myself to revel in the spirit of disaster for just a little while.

I was so engrossed in my impromptu home improvement kick, however, that I didn’t even hear the front door open and close, or the sound of footsteps making their way down the hall toward me.

It wasn't until Chris’s voice rang out from the doorway, filled with confusion and amusement, that I finally snapped out of my determined trance.

“What the hell happened here?”