I waited until the creaking of the floorboards finally stopped and the house sank into its nightly rhythm.

  On the bed next to mine, Hailey slept as children do, with peace and exhaustion. Mr. Winkle's glass eye stared at me accusingly as I slid out of bed. Very slowly, I pulled on my hoodie and sneakers and tiptoed outside.

  The air bit into my skin as I stepped onto the lawn. My gaze searched for the barn. The wooden structure stood alone, shrouded in darkness.

  For a moment I stood uncertain whether I should do this. I knew I was disobeying my grandparents, and a part of me was terrified of the consequences.

  But Elise and Jack didn't know Dad the way I did. They might have known the lupine they raised, but they didn't know the man he had become, the man he had been for the past twenty years. The man who carried me on his back when I was little, who let Hailey and me cut his hair and told bad dad jokes in front of my friends.

  But I did.

  I remembered him. And I wanted, no, needed him back.

  A sound came from within the darkness. I stopped. The sound came again, soft, rhythmic, reminding me of pacing. I took another couple of steps. Then it stopped.

  Biting my lower lip, I pushed through the fear and walked over.

  The barn was locked, the doors set in thick chains. If I tried hard enough, I might have been able to look through the cracks in the wood. I didn't have the guts.

  Instead, I sighed and pressed my palms against the cool, rough wood. Splinters rasped against my skin.

  This close, I could smell what seeped from the barn. The familiarity of sawdust mixed with the dreaded scent of fur and something metallic, like iron, leaking through the cracks.

  On the other side, something moved. The sound of slow, ragged breathing cut through the quiet of the night, growing louder with each passing second.

  "Dad," I whispered, so low I could barely hear myself.

  The reaction was immediate. A flash of movement followed by a scratching sound on the other side of the wooden wall. Claws. Not a human hand. I closed my eyes against the heavy feeling settling in my stomach.

  I didn't know what I'd been expecting. I'd hoped… I felt so stupid. Of course he wouldn't be himself again. I steadied myself.

  Get a grip, Kelsey, I told myself. Do what you came here to do. No chickening out now.

  I blinked. Took a deep breath. Reassessed the situation. He knew I was here, and he wasn't trying to break through. That had to count for something.

  I pressed my hands against the wall again.

  "Dad," I repeated, just as quietly. "I know you can hear me. I know you understand." I swallowed, even though my throat felt like sandpaper.

  A soft keening sound answered me from the other side.

  A small spark of warmth ignited at the bottom of my chest. He'd heard me. He'd heard and understood and answered, in a way. And he wasn't going berserk. Wasn't trying to break out or tear down the walls. I still knew, deep down, this was a path I needed to thread carefully.

  "Hailey and I are okay," I said softly. "Jack and Elise are taking good care of us. I… thought you should know that." I paused.

  Another scrape of claws followed, a soft rumble ending in a whimper. I steadied myself, leaning against the wall. Not too much. Just a bit. Just so I knew my legs would hold.

  "I had to go to school today. That's why… why I left." I paused. "I took the car. I know it's been a while, and I know how you feel about my driving skills, but I didn't scratch it, I promise."

  Silence.

  A heartbeat passed. Then another.

  "I'm sorry," I whispered against the wood as my treacherous eyes began to burn. "I'm sorry I ran away that night. I didn't… didn't know."

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  Another whimper, louder this time, teetering toward a howl. A movement. The sound of something large snapping in half. I jumped back.

  The whimper cut off, followed by a deep snarl.

  My breath caught in my throat.

  This was a mistake.

  I shouldn't have come here.

  I should have listened to people who actually understood how a werewolf mind worked.

  My breath fogged the air in front of my face. Frozen grass crunched beneath my sneakers as I took one step back at a time.

  And then…

  "Kel… sey."

  It wasn't Dad's voice. The sound that carried my name couldn't have come from a human throat. It was rough, deep, wrong. Like it was coming from the bottom of a barrel.

  But it was my name.

  I stopped. In that split instant, terror and hope collided so violently inside me I thought I might faint.

  "Dad?" I asked, my voice thin.

  My call was met with the sound of something slapping against the wall, higher now. Like he was trying to stand up on two feet.

  "Kel… sey." The word scraped against my ears. It sounded… pained.

  Slowly, step by step, I walked back to the wall. I heard breathing again, but it seemed shallower now. If he talked, he must have changed form, at least partially. If he said my name once, maybe he could say something else. Maybe he wasn't gone. Not all the way. I tried to stop my heart from swelling with too much hope.

  "Dad," I said again. "I have no idea what I'm doing here." I suppressed a hysterical chuckle rising in my throat. "I'm terrified. I don't know if I'm helping you or making things worse. I just…" I paused, shaking my head. "I just want things to be the way they used to. At least somewhat. Because… I feel like I'm standing alone in a blizzard and it's cold and I'm scared and tired and I just… I don't need you to be perfect. I just want you to come back. So I'm not in the blizzard alone anymore. Please." My breath stuttered. I felt wetness on my lashes and quickly wiped it away. "Please, Dad. I'm sorry. I know it's my fault."

  Silence stretched, interrupted only by the sound of his breathing and the occasional call of an owl.

  Then, a huff.

  "No… Not… Your… Fault."

  The words were strained, like every sound was forced through a throat never meant for speaking. Something broke in my chest at those words. Even now, even like this, he was still trying to be my dad.

  My knees trembled and I leaned into the wall to stop myself from crumbling.

  "Pup… not…"

  As he spoke, or tried to, a familiar chorus of distant howls echoed in the distance. And then he was cut off by another snapping sound, followed by something between a growl and a whimper. Then, a heavy thud.

  ***

  I didn't remember walking back to the house. My feet were numb, my mind empty. So when the sudden light assaulted my eyes as soon as the main door clicked shut behind me, I was startled, but not surprised.

  Elise stood in the middle of the hallway, tall and immovable like a monument, her braid the usual stark contrast against her pale robe. Her eyes were cold, firm, judging. She knew.

  "You disobeyed," she said, her tone cutting. "Despite everything we've said. Despite our specific instructions. You went there."

  "I did." I straightened, refusing to be intimidated, even though a small part of me was still shaking. I took a step toward her. "I didn't break your rules because I felt like it. I broke them because I had to. Because I had to see… had to know if there's anything left of my dad in there." I swallowed. "If you want to punish me, go for it, be my guest. But I just want you to know this." I stepped so close to her I could almost feel her breath. "He said my name. Said it wasn't my fault."

  I stepped back, watching her eyes widen.

  "He… spoke to you?"

  I answered with a small, sharp nod. Her gaze lifted, flying past me, through the walls and toward the place where her son lay trapped. I watched her throat bob.

  "Has he shifted?" Her voice was thinner now, hope creeping in.

  "No." The word rolled out of my mouth and fell like a heavy boulder. "Almost... But not yet. But he… he's trying."

  She nodded, the light in her dimming. "You should have asked us first."

  "And you would have said no."

  "Of course we would have said no!" she snapped. "Your and your sister's lives aren't something to trifle with!"

  The intensity behind those words made my breath stutter.

  Silence fell between us. On the wall, a grandfather clock ticked steadily.

  "I'm sorry I went there behind your back," I said. "I had to know."

  Something in her eyes softened around the edges.

  "It was reckless, what you did. I'm not even sure you understand how much," she said. "But if you managed to get him to talk… it's a good thing. It's progress. Just… don't do something like this again, Kelsey. Not behind our backs. You're a smart girl, but you don't know what you're dealing with. You don't understand the workings of a lupine mind."

  "Yeah, you're right," I agreed. "I'm still learning. I don't know how your biology works, the whole two forms, instinct versus reason versus biology. I don't even understand myself. All of it is so confusing and it's driving me insane. But you know what I do know? I know that that… that beast in the barn, your son, is also the man who read me bedtime stories, kissed bruised knees, fixed bikes. The guy who carried my mother like a petal on his palm. I might not understand the thing he is now. But the difference between you and me is that I know he's more than you give him credit for."

  My voice trembled just a little. She winced, only for a fraction of a second, but it pulled at something inside me.

  "What I'm saying… you know the lupine. But you don't know the human he's been all these years. I do. And I know it wasn't just an act, it was him. So, whether you like it or not, if you want to help him as much as I do, then you'll have to let me in."

  Elise's lips pressed together. She swallowed.

  "I will need to talk to your grandfather. We'll see how Gabriel is doing in the morning. Then we'll decide."

  I took a deep breath and nodded, gripping the railing. The wood was smooth beneath my fingers.

  "Good night, Grandmother," I said, and walked upstairs.