Filthy rich werewolves by Taylor Caine

Chapter 24

“She’s special to you,” Jay says when I come inside and lock the door behind me.

“Yes.” I take a seat back at the kitchen table and stir my cup of tea. It’s long gone cold but the motion

settles me.

“When I was in prison,” I say quietly, “Lina would visit.” The first day of the month, she was there, no

matter what.” I never actually went to greet her. I didn’t want her to see me or to experience that room

with all the other inmates. But I’d see her arrive and waiting in that room. And for me, just knowing she

was there. It was enough.

I don’t know if I would have made it through my time without her.

“She’s a good friend,” Jay says.

“Yes.”

Over the next few days, my workload increased tremendously, as the management staff from

Sanitation Service Center would be coming over for inspection. Most days, I have to work overtime.

Fortunately, when I go home, Jay would have prepared dinner and he’d be there, a steady, calming

presence waiting for me. I always told him not to wait for me, to eat while the food is hot, but he insists

on waiting for me to arrive.

He insists on us eating together.

It’s sweet.

Early in the morning, after cleaning the streets I’ve been assigned to, I return to the Sanitation Service

Center. After putting away my tools, I go outside to stand on the lawn in front of the entrance. My

coworkers are all lined up too.

After a while, the inspectors from the Urban Management Bureau arrive.

My skinny body stands out among the group of middle-aged women.

"You're Grace!" When the inspectors reached the Sanitation Service Center, a young woman shouts

out when she sees me.

She’s in a light-blue suit and has her hair up in a bun. Her face is round and her eyes narrow. She’s

pretty. I’m stunned for a minute before I recognize my high school classmate, Mia Jenkins.

“It's you!" Mia looks at me in amazement and then she asks, "Why are you here? Are you now... a

sanitation worker?"

"Yes, I work here," I reply. I don’t look away from Mia's gaze. This is my life and I’m not going to live it

each day feeling ashamed.

It’s honest work.

"Mia, do you know each other?" her colleague who had come along with her asks.

"That's right. From high school. Back then, Grace was the prettiest girl in the class and our

valedictorian! Many guys in our class liked her and but Grace was always focused on her education."

Mia deliberately praised me to the skies.

The more she did that, the more it showed the contrast to my current situation.

As expected, the colleague frowns, commenting, "Was she the prettiest girl in the class? You must be

kidding!"

I tense. I’m not ignorant of the undercurrents here. Back then in class, a lot of students were envious of

me. They didn’t realize that I had to make good grades. If I didn’t make something of myself, I would let

my grandfather down. And my father…he only took notice of me when I finally reached first in my class.

And I wasn’t aloof because I thought myself better than anyone. I am a wolf and we limited our human

friendships.

“Oh yes,” Mia says. “Our Grace was quite the swan.”

Right. And the ugly duckling is now the supervisor, while the swan is sweeping the streets.

As my colleagues overhear the conversation with my former ‘friend,’ they turn to look at me with

different expressions on their faces. Some look surprised, others appear sympathetic. A few women

snicker and point.

So it isn’t a surprise when I’m cornered by one of those laughing coworkers, Farah Steele, the next

day.

I’m busy organizing some tools in the supply department when she sweeps in. She leans on her

elbows on the countertop. “So, everyone’s been talking about the visit yesterday.”

“Oh?” I pretend not to know what she’s talking about.

“Is it true what she said, about you being the prettiest and smartest?”

I don’t reply.

Farah snorts. "What's the use of being the prettiest girl in the class or being super smart? Obviously,

that couldn’t be true—or you wouldn’t be here."

I sign my name on the logistics record book and turn to leave.

Claire catches up to me and pats my hand. ”Don't take Farah's words to heart. She's venting her anger

on you because she likes Gus from the Fleet."

I’m puzzled. I have no idea who Claire is referring to or what Gus has to do with her.

"Gus is one of our drivers and he seems interested in you. He always greets you," Claire explains.

"Gus is a nice guy, and the Center has plans for him. His parents have also bought him a house for his

marriage. You may wish to consider accepting him."

Accepting him? “Are you matchmaking, Claire?” It’s rather nice of this older woman to want to set me

up. Not that I’m interested. But still, the gesture is kind. Unlike Farrah or Mia, who see my failings as

something to make fun of.

“I, uh, appreciate it, Claire, but no thanks. I have no intentions of getting into a relationship."

Claire frowns. ”You're young now, but as a woman gets older, it will become more difficult to find a

partner."

"In that case, I shall remain single," I say.

Honestly, a relationship is the last thing on my mind. It’s been that way since I got out of prison. Sean

had pledged to love me.

To mate me.

He knew I was pregnant.

And then the accident happened.

And he rejected and deserted me.

My eyes burn at the thought.

Not for him.

Never again for him—or any man.

But losing my baby…

I think about that all the time. The life that could’ve been created. The little boy or girl that I would’ve

loved and protected.

I shake the thoughts away. How could I have loved or protected my baby while incarcerated?

And I am a rogue, which means if I’d had the baby, Sean’s pack or my father’s could’ve claimed my

child and taken the baby from me.

I inwardly sigh.

I would’ve given my baby up in a heartbeat just to have the child born and healthy.

The accident caused a lot of damage.

I’m not even sure I can have children now.

Which… is just one more reason NOT to get into a relationship.

Claire watches me this whole time that I’ve been lost in my own thoughts. “Where do you go?” she

whispers.

I shake my head. I can’t talk about the memories. It’s too painful.

“I need to stay in the present, Claire. I can’t look back, and, well, planning some future with a nice

house and white picket fence…that just isn’t for me.”

Her mouth turns down. She pities me.

It makes my stomach sink. Mia’s derision yesterday, even Farah’s attitude today…I can handle that.

But Claire’s reaction guts me.

I no longer harbor any hope of love or marriage.

No.

And it’s better this way.

I force a smile.

Back then, Sean had made several promises.

He’d promised to love and cherish me, to protect me forever.

And I saw how well that had played out.

My ‘true love’ —the man I thought was my mate!—had ordered each of my ten fingernails ripped out.

He ordered the bones in my hands stomped and broken.

And that’s not counting whatever bounty he paid to ensure that every day was hell for me.

“Don’t give up,” Claire says. “Whoever did you wrong, they aren’t all bad.”

I laugh. One of my best friend’s from home, Jacob…he turned out to be the prosecutor who fought to

put me behind bars.

If nothing else, I would learn from the mistakes of my past.

“No, thank you, Claire. I’m not looking for love. Or a relationship. I’m fine, but thank you for suggesting

it.”

Claire purses her lips. “How is your ankle?”

“Much better,” I reply absently.

Claire shakes her head. “It could be amputated, and you’d say the same thing.”

One corner of my mouth tugs up. “Complaining doesn’t change things.”

“Hmm. You’re right about that, I suppose.”

Claire pulls me out of this room and down a hallway. “Hey, all joking aside…give yourself a chance,

Grace. The past is in the past. You have paid enough for it. You deserve happiness, more than

anyone.”

I’m touched. I nod at Claire. “You’re a good person.”

She grins.

Huh. It seems there are at least a few good people in my life these days—Lina, Claire. Jay.

My heartbeat accelerates. This text is property of Nô/velD/rama.Org.

Jay knows my past. My failings.

He’s a wolf. Same as I am—was.

He doesn’t judge me.

He isn’t boyfriend material, either, seeing as how we are in agreement about being the family neither of

us had.

As a brother… it is enough.

But relegating him to that role does send a little pang of longing through my chest.

“I’m blessed, Claire. And happy with what I have. Wishing and hoping for more…that’s the surest way

to be discontent.”

Claire rolls her eyes. “Fine. Fine. You win. I can’t compete with all your zen sh*t.” She tightens her

ponytail. “You’re a disgustingly positive influence, you know that.”

“There was a compliment in there, somewhere,” I tell her. “I’ll take it.”

“I’ll see you tomorrow,” Claire says.

I follow her outside and start my walk home. Midway through my walk, I see a familiar person ahead…