Moved (#Wattys2014)

Chapter One

Chapter One

“Werewolves are real, but the legends are wrong.” 

My eyes skimmed over the words once more before I folded my mother’s letter and returned it to its hiding place, the jewelry box on my dresser.  It was the first thing I checked every time I came home.  I sighed and sat on my bed for a moment.  There were so many questions I wanted to ask her, questions only she would have answered. 

“Gillian.”  My dad’s voice carried through the house as he called my name for the second time. 

“Coming,” I called back. 

He’d cooked dinner to celebrate my homecoming.  A wry smile crept onto my face.  He didn’t cook.  Not well, anyway.  But he made the effort whenever I came home, even though I was never gone that long.  I tried to come home at least once a month because I knew he missed me. 

I opened my bedroom door and walked down the hall to the living room.  We never ate in the kitchen; there was no TV. 

A ball game was on but with no sound.  A plate waited for me on the coffee table.  I was relieved to see burgers.  He could grill, at least. 

Dad sat on the couch, eyes on the TV until I came into the room.  Larry occupied the recliner while he ate his own burger.  Larry was Dad’s “business partner” and had been around for as long as I could remember. 

Larry paused eating and turned to look at me as I sat on the floor beside Dad. 

“Hey, Larry,” I said in greeting as I reached for my plate.  I was glad he was here.  His near constant presence in our home while I was away at college helped keep Dad from noticing his empty nest.  Mostly. 

Larry winked at me then focused on his burger.  I noticed him frown and sniff.  Maybe Dad’s grilling wasn’t that great after all. 

“So what’s new and exciting with your crowd?” Dad asked.  His close cropped hair, a salt and pepper mix, looked like someone had added a bit more salt lately.  I smiled at him, and his warm hazel eyes almost disappeared as the skin crinkled in the corners when he smiled back at me. 

“Since we talked last night?  Nothing.” 

Dad called me just about every night I wasn’t home.  Quick calls but I kept him up to date on my life for the most part. 

“Nothing new?  Nothing at all?” 

I arched a brow, wondering why he’d asked again. 

“He thinks you’re leaving something out,” Larry said.  His low voice had so little volume I often accused him of mumbling.  He insisted he was just soft spoken.  His short dark hair, powerful build, and cold, sky blue eyes made his soft tones a little intimidating, until you got to know him. 

“What do you mean?” I said looking up at Larry.  There was only one thing I was keeping from Dad, and the root of my secret lay in the jewelry box in my room. 

“Leave it go, Larry.”  The warning in Dad’s voice was clear. 

I glanced between the two.  Dad didn’t look too happy with Larry.  Larry met Dad’s eyes then took another bite of his burger, not saying anything further.  I set my plate down and turned so I fully faced Dad. 

“What does he mean?  Do you think I’m lying to you about something?” 

I didn’t think he’d be mad about the letter.  Not really.  My mom had died when I was very young.  It’d been so cool to find something from her, just for me, when I’d gotten older.  I knew he wouldn’t like the things she wrote or what I now knew, but I didn’t think he’d get mad.  Still, I didn’t want to tell him if that wasn’t what this was about.  It would just put more strain on his already overprotective shoulders.