"Right. I'll get you those prescriptions before I release you." She starts to turn toward the door but pauses, casting one last concerned look over her shoulder. "Oh. One more thing. It's highly unlikely, but I should mention that you need to steer clear of alphas."
"Alphas?"
"Another secondary designation," she explains. "Their pheromones, like yours and mine, are stronger than your average shifter's. Being around one might wreak havoc on your system—it could even trigger a juvenile heat if you're compatible enough." She shrugs, though her expression remains serious. "It's probably a nonissue. They are incredibly rare." A small, strange smile touches her lips. "But then again… you never know."
I watch her go, still stuck on the word *pheromones*. Nothing about any of this feels like real life.
I check my phone once she leaves and see that my brothers have responded to the group text, asking if I landed okay.
It takes all I have not to laugh.
I am definitely not ready to have this discussion with my family. I don't even know what I'm going to say to my brothers when they drive in to join me on the job at the end of the week.
The job.
I groan. I'm still expected to show up at the small ski lodge this evening—a little place just up the mountain, near the town of Pleasant Hill. The woman I've been speaking to, Jeannie, seems nice enough, and I can only hope she won't notice if I have to escape to the bathroom to deal with an influx of cramps, sweating, or God knows what else during the next few weeks while I oversee the renovation.
I laugh dryly. At least things can't get any worse.
"Made it to Nowheresville yet?"
In hindsight, I probably should have let Ada's call go to voicemail.
It's only been a couple of hours since the doctor at the ER informed me my entire life was changing, but since my best friend is like a shark smelling blood in the water when it comes to sussing out my moods, I doubt I can keep any of this from her for long.
"Almost," I tell her, slowing for a stop sign. "It's really off the beaten path."
"Never a good sign. That's how you get axe-murdered."
I roll my eyes. "I'm not going to get axe-murdered."
"That's what every person who gets axe-murdered thinks. No one wakes up thinking, *Oh, today I'm going to get axe-murdered,* but then, before you know it, you're human firewood."
"I am officially putting you in time-out from those true crime podcasts."
"You'll change your tune when I keep you from becoming human firewood."
"How about we stop using the term 'human firewood' when I'm this close to a secluded ski lodge that I'll be staying at by myself until my brothers fly in?"
Ada snorts on the other end of the line. "Thomas and Chase are in more danger than you are. They're pretty, but they don't have the same hardware upstairs as you. Kyle might stand a chance."
"Hey, now," I laugh. "That's not very nice."
"I'm kidding," she says. "You know I love those big lugs. But still, there's a reason you're the brains of the operation and they're the muscle."
"And cameraman," I correct, thinking of Kyle.
"And cameraman," she agrees. "How cold is it there?"
"Somewhere between frozen toes and cracked lips."
I can practically hear her shudder. "No thanks."
"Definitely a far cry from Newport."
"I'll think of you while I'm on the beach later," she says with sympathy.
"That makes everything better."
"Obviously. How are you feeling? Did you end up going to get checked out?"
I bite my lip, considering. Ada would understand. I've never asked for the ins and outs of what she is, but that doesn't mean I haven't picked up bits and pieces over the years.
I'm… not ready to tell anyone yet. Not when I haven't figured out my own feelings about it. I'm already half-panicking enough as it is without her hysterics added to the mix.
"I feel better," I tell her. It's not a complete lie. I do feel better after taking the meds Dr. Carter gave me. "Not dying, at least."
"Just make sure you get checked out if you start feeling shitty again. It sounded like you were really suffering when I talked to you last."
"Maybe I ate something bad," I offer, knowing that's not the case. It could be a possibility, though, in an easier turn of events.
"Have you heard anything back from HGTV?"
"Not yet," I sigh. "They said it could be a couple of weeks."
"Yeah, well, they'd be stupid not to green-light the show. You haven't had a TikTok fall under a million views in months."
"My brothers are optimistic, but…"
"You're the worrywart."
"That's me," I laugh. "It just comes down to the fine print. I don't want to jump into anything that's going to make our job not fun anymore, you know? I don't want to be totally beholden to their whims."
"I get that," she says. "What does your dad think?"
My hands tighten on the steering wheel, my jaw clenching. With everything happening today, my problems back home are the last thing I want to discuss.
"I don't know," I tell her honestly. "I haven't told him about it yet."
"You haven't told him?"
"No, and I told my brothers not to tell him either."
"But why?"
"Because…" I frown, thinking of the awful year he's had. That we've all had. "I don't want to get my parents' hopes up if it doesn't come through. I'll tell them when I have good news."
"Babe, that's a lot of pressure to put on yourself."
"I know," I sigh. "But what choice do I have?"
I can practically see the sympathy in her eyes even from so far away, my chest constricting when I think about everything riding on this deal. About the good it could do when it comes to Dad's medical issues.
"This is all contingent on whether or not HGTV passes," I grumble.
"Shut up," she tuts. "If they do, then they're walnuts."
"Walnuts?"
"Felt appropriate," she replies. "If they do pass on it, they suck, and I will boycott their channel."
"You and I both know the day you give up *Property Brothers* is the day you're six feet under."
"They're hot twins with hammers. I won't be judged for this. Just a sec." I hear her shuffling on the other end for a moment before her voice returns. "Can I call you back? That's Perry's school on the other line."
"Absolutely. I'll talk to you later, okay?"
"Sure. Call you later."
She disconnects the call, and I'm suddenly even more glad I decided not to tell her yet about everything happening with me. It's not that I don't trust Ada enough to tell her what's going on; it's just that I know how much she worries—it's the mom in her—and if I tell her about everything that's happening, there's a good chance she'll be packing up herself and her son, Perry, and hopping on the first flight out.
She has enough going on with the whole single-mother thing; she definitely doesn't need any of my drama stressing her out even more. I'll give myself a few days to wrap my head around it first.
It isn't long after I hang up with Ada that I see the end of the driveway.
A faded wooden sign that reads *The Bear Essentials Wilderness Lodge* leans at a not-so-straight angle to signal that I'm at the right place.
I can just make out the lodge nestled in the pristine white of the surrounding snow as I drive up, the log siding stark amid the wintery scenery. A deck wraps around the front to lead down to a set of stairs, and on either side of the heavy wooden door is a series of wide windows that go all the way up to the roof.
The sky behind it is now painted in a rich array of pinks and purples as the sun begins to sink below the horizon, giving the entire thing more of that postcard feel—save for the wear and tear.
It's still… pretty, mostly. But it's definitely seen some hard years.
There are broken rails on the stairs that I notice as I get closer, a few missing shingles on the roof—even the sign above the door is faded and chipped, as if long overdue for a touch-up. I'm already making a mental note of all the people in Denver I'm going to have to call to contract some work out to.
It's less picturesque than the one (literally one) photo I saw on the very basic website, and I'm gathering now that it was most likely dated. I doubt they've updated the lodge since it was built.
"Kind of a funny name for a lodge," I mutter to myself as I shift my rental car into park.
I sit in the car for a minute so I can shoot a text to my brothers, following that up with one to my dad to let him know I arrived at the jobsite. I stare down at my phone as I watch the little dots pop up with his impending response, a small smile touching my mouth when he replies: *You be careful out there, kiddo.*
It feels weird keeping all that's happened today from him, considering I tell him everything, but with what he's going through… I don't want to add to his stress. In fact, it's imperative that I don't, what with the state of his heart.
I step out of the car, letting the door shut behind me, to get a better look at the place.
There's an old Bronco parked just outside, the forest-green paint still shiny despite the vehicle being at least thirty years old by my best guess, and it somehow looks like it's in better shape than the lodge itself.
I eye the broken railing that seems to have cracks and rotting wood as far as the eye can see; I really have my work cut out with this one.
I'm staring at the railing so intensely that I almost miss it when the front door opens and someone steps outside, but I catch a large, dark shape out of the corner of my eye, stark against the light flakes of the gently falling snow—and it's hard to focus on much else when the person finally comes into view.
He's heading right for me, and I can feel my mouth part as I take in the hulking size of the man walking down the rickety stairs.