Page 6 of Glass
All of this is a nice distraction from my inner turmoil. I feel a little lighter watching life continue around me.
The feeling doesn’t last long. I’m too invested in this pity party of mine tonight.
I turn to face the bar again and take a long drink. I wipe my finger across the condensation on the side of the glass and find my mind returning to my mother’s letter.
Who would my mother have reached out to given the chance?
Callie is an option. My middle-most sister was always the most nurturing of the group growing up. She practically raised the twins when they came along since my mother was so wrapped up in encouraging other new mothers to procreate like all of their lives depended on it. My parents’ growing cult of the Wild Bend Pack was quickly gaining traction by the time the twins came.
There’s no way she would have been writing to the twins, Peter, or I. All of us were far too young to realistically take on pups for her. McKenna wouldn’t have been old enough either really, though she’s a few years older than the twins. Besides, she’s been a recluse practically since she came from our mother’s womb. She wouldn’t be anyone’s first choice for raising kids.
The mystery continues.
I manage to down my drink in one more gulp. The sugar rush sends a burst of adrenaline through my veins.
Idly, I pull out my phone. I always carry one because of how often I travel, though I’ve had to replace it a few times over after some unfortunately poorly-planned shifts. I break alotof phones.
I jam my thumb against the screen to pull up the search bar and start to typeHow to find—before I hesitate. Even if I search how to find a missing person, the results won’t be that helpful. Shifters can disappear in a lot of ways that humans can’t.
It’s unfortunate no one has thought to make a shifter-specific search engine yet.
I sigh dejectedly and place my phone on the bar beside my empty drink. I don’t realize someone has joined me until a hand snatches up the abandoned phone.
“Hey!” I jerk toward my right to find the Elvis impersonator getting all up in my business. He looks from the phone screen to me.
“You lost something?” Elvis squints one eye at me.
I swirl the ice in my cup and mutter, “Something like that.”
Elvis puts my phone back on the bar, and I snatch it back and shove it in my pocket. He seems more interested in what I was doing than in stealing my phone, but you never know. I don’t put too much faith in strangers in bars.
“Hm.” He taps his chin with a serious expression that makes me think he has something philosophical or noteworthy to say. Then an argument breaks out behind us around the jukebox. This rundown bar feels like something straight out of a sitcom. Elvis’ attention wanders, and he spins on his stool to watch the action.
The bartender catches my eye and wanders back in my direction. “Another?” she asks, smiling blandly at me now. Her energy seems to have dissipated, which I imagine has something to do with Elvis or the rapidly escalating noise level in the bar.
I shake my head. I don’t need the sugar crash later. I already can’t shake the feeling that I’m stuck in quicksand, and if I don’t find a way out, I’m going to be trapped in one place forever. I’ll never find what happened to the rest of my siblings and life will keep going on as if they never existed.
I can’t live like that.
The bartender’s smile tightens slightly as Elvis yells, “Cocksucker!” out of nowhere. I wince equally over the volume and the word choice. Apparently, he’s hoping to worm his way into the jukebox argument.
As she shakes her head, she leans over the bar until she’s close enough that I’m the only one that will hear her as the opening chords ofI Love Rock ‘n’ Rollstart to blare over the speakers.
“It’s probably for the best.” She nods at my empty drink. “Our resident Elvis here fancies himself moonlighting as a life coach. A full drink makes him think you’re more likely to sit around entertaining his delusions.” She rolls her eyes skyward and scoffs. Her derision makes me self-conscious for thinking Elvis might impart some kind of great philosophical wisdom on me.
I still have the bartender’s attention, so I smile and push my hair over my shoulder dismissively. “It’s amazing what desperate minds will fall for.” I force a laugh even as I feel my cheeks heating with embarrassment over how easily I almost fell for Elvis’ schticksober.
I’m the only one around here who’s truly desperate. So desperate that I glance once more at my empty drink.
“Actually, maybe just one more.”
The bartender purses her lips at me but nods. I huff out a frustrated breath and cross my arms over the bar so I can drop my head on them. Why was I so determined to get away from Paxton’s and Tasha’s familiarity tonight? I could have used the comfort of familiarity tonight instead of sitting in this bar surrounded by strangers.
“You know…” The voice close to my ear makes me startle and jerk my head up. Elvis leans so far over on his stool that I have to put a hand out to keep him from toppling over onto me. “If you’re looking for something lost, you should look for it where the lost things go.”
“Uh-huh.”
“I mean it,” he insists, nodding to himself gleefully like he’s had a major breakthrough here.