by Sara Summers
“My romance rant?” I smiled and shook my head, pouring batter into the pan for a new pancake. “Of course I remember, I got so many comments cussing at me or telling me something along the lines of, ‘you go, girl’, how could I forget?”
“Was it true?” Jordie wondered.
“I’ve never written anything that wasn’t.” I said, completely honest. “If I lied to that many people even online, I’d never be able to look myself in the mirror. Honesty is only one of the reasons I never fit into the mafia.”
“Hmm. I’ll keep that in mind.” Jordie nodded, flipping his bacon.
“You don’t have to write me love letters just because I ranted about them online though.” I hurried to tell him. “I really won’t be offended if you don’t.”
I didn’t want him to think I was some sort of old-fashioned girl, unwilling to compromise on the type of love and romance I wanted from my man. Love is about compromise, after all.
“I’ll keep that in mind, too.” Jordie dropped a piece of bacon onto a paper towel, then picked it up and blew on it. “Here.” He tore off a piece and stuck it in my mouth. “Do you like turkey bacon?” I chewed and made a face.
“What the—“
“I’ll take that as a no.” Jordie laughed.
“Eh, I don’t usually like any kind of bacon so buy whatever you want.” I waved it off. “Alright, next question.” My eyes caught on the second and last decoration in his house. “Do you or do you not have a safe full of weapons and money and fake IDs hiding behind that picture?” I gestured at it with my spatula.
Jordie grinned.
“No. I’ve never owned a gun.” He shook his head.
“Phew. For a second, I wondered if you were mafia.” I pulled the next pancake off and poured some more batter.
“Nope, I’m just a lowly second grade teacher. I’m probably one of the last people on the planet who would ever be invited to join the mafia.”
I looked at him critically.
“You’d be surprised.”
Jordie shook his head, that smile still lingering.
“So whatever happened to your writing? I saw you typing away in the coffee shop that first day.” He checked.
I grimaced.
“I used to write a lot when I was a kid.” I admitted. “Fictional worlds seemed better than the world I was living in, so I turned to them. I loved it, and wanted to be a writer. But when I left Poulsbo, I kind of gave up on it. I lost inspiration and time for writing, instead focusing on my blog.
“I tried to go back to it the other day, but I’ve been way too conflicted to focus on it. My heart just hasn’t been in it.”
“Where is it? Your heart, I mean.” Jordie looked at me with his big blue eyes. I’d never realized they were blue before; I’m more of a words girl than a visual one.
Until that moment, I hadn’t noticed how expressive those blue eyes were, either. I could see that he cared for me, and that he really did want to know the answer. Now that he was being honest, it seemed he was being completely and totally honest, and I loved that.
“With you.” I whispered.
I hadn’t admitted it to myself until then. I’d told him I loved him, sure, but I hadn’t told myself yet.
The moment the words left my mouth, I knew they were true.
Completely, honestly, and 100% true.
My heart was with Jordie no matter how little sense it made to me. I was his, and he was mine, and that was exactly the way the Creator had always intended us to be.
I pulled the next pancake of the pan, and poured in the last of the batter for one more pancake.
“Where’s your heart?” I turned to look back at those expressive eyes. Much to my surprise, they were brimming with tears. I’d never thought it was manly when a guy cried until then. Seeing the tears in his eyes made Jordie seem like a real person to me, one with feelings and a bigger heart than I knew.
“Right here.” He slid off the counter, pointing to my chest, letting his finger barely brush my skin. “With yours.” He kissed my forehead, turning to get the bacon off the pan.
I flipped the pancake and then pulled it off a minute later.
We sat on the same couch to eat. It was the first time we’d ever sat next to each other, and also the happiest time for me. We joked and asked questions, paying more attention to each other than to the food.
After we did the dishes, we went back to our couch. I wrote a blog post while Jordie graded some papers.
Sitting there beside the missing piece of my soul, the words flowed more simply and more easily than ever before. Being with Jordie, really with him rather than just across the room, I felt whole.
That was the greatest feeling I had ever experienced, and it was one I hoped I’d never have to lose.
Chapter 9
When Jordie laughed, I looked up from my laptop.
“Sorry.” He grinned. “These papers…” he shook his head. I scooted over to check them out. “When it comes to math, story problems are always tough, especially when we do them in class.” He said, pointing to one of the questions on the worksheet.
“Suzie has six apples. She gives two to Billy and three to John. How many apples does she have left?” I skimmed the student’s answer, then laughed.
“Some of them wrote in ‘I don’t know’, others guessed she had six, but this one’s the best.” He grinned again.
“Why does she need apples? Apples are gross.” I said, then grinned with him. “Does he write things like this a lot?”
“Always.” Jordie nodded. “He’s smart, but he doesn’t like to admit it.”
“That’s funny.” I smiled, then went back to writing my blog post.
“What are you writing?” he checked.
“Oh, people have been asking a lot of questions about shifters ever since Leah invited all the wolves to Glacier. Right now, I’m explaining why a lot of us stay in packs and what it’s like to be part of a pack.” I explained a bit absentmindedly as I continued to type.
“Can I see?” he asked.
I hesitated. Did I want to let him in? Was I okay with letting him read the words as they flowed from my brain? He was definitely trustworthy, and obviously cared about me. Plus after following me around for so long, I wasn’t sure I could lose him even if I wanted to.
So I turned the computer. Yes, I was okay with it. If he wanted in, I’d let him in. I’d read his journals, after all, which was a way bigger privacy breach than a blog post that anyone could read anywhere in the world.
“Wow, this is really good.” He said. “Do you even have to edit your writing?”
“Yeah, I always go through afterward to make sure everything flows, but it comes naturally.” I shrugged.
“That’s cool.” Jordie said.
“Thanks.” I smiled, then went back to writing.
We interrupted each other a few times over the next hour, bringing up something or asking a question. It was crazy to me how natural it felt to tell Jordie what I was thinking. I guess I’d just been wanting someone to love me for a long time. Since I found him, I was anxious to show him who I was.
That was a strange feeling, as I’d never had anyone that made me feel that way; desperate, almost, to let him in. My friends were fun, and we always had a good time, but I couldn’t tell them all of my innermost thoughts. We had all grown up differently and I just didn’t think they’d understand.
I didn’t know why, but I knew Jordie would understand and that he wanted to understand. Maybe because he hadn’t stopped smiling since I told him I liked him despite the past that had been haunting him for so long. Honestly, I don’t know. But I opened up to him and I loved that a whole lot.
After blogging and answering emails all day, I stood up and stretched, arching my back. Jordie looked up, his eyes following my movement.
“Like what you see?” the corner of my mouth quirked up in a smile.
“More than you know.” He smiled back.
Really, though, h
is smile was incredible. It lit up his entire face in a way that was ridiculously attractive.
“Do we have any hot chocolate powder?” I wondered. “Hot chocolate sounds good.”
“Of course.” Jordie stood up and led me into the kitchen. “You like it with milk, right?” his tone was cautious.
“Yep. Whole milk.” I nodded.
“Phew. You can’t trust anyone who prefers water.” He shook his head. “Who would want watery hot chocolate?” he asked as he pulled out the gallon of milk.
“Crazy people.” I agreed, smiling wryly.
“You made the pancakes, so sit down while I make the cocoa.” He instructed.
I jumped up on the counter, perching my feet on the cupboard.
“So, do you remember the first day I was here?” I asked. He nodded as he filled our cups with milk. “Why did you flinch when I touched you? I have my guesses, but I want to know what you were thinking.”
He stuck the first cup in the microwave, then stepped over so he was in front of me, his stomach resting against my legs.
“I thought it was obvious.” He admitted. “No one has ever really touched me before. I get high-fives from kids and I shake hands with the other teachers, but that’s about it. I used to crave physical contact so badly that I would literally lay in bed, my entire body shaking with the desire to have someone just touch my arm or hand or something.” He looked down.
I pulled his hand up to my heart.
“I’m sorry.” My voice was soft.
“It’s okay.” He gave me a small smile. “You came into my home, and even though I tried to avoid you—for your own protection, remember—you would touch me and drape your body over mine. As much as I thought I needed to keep you safe from me, I couldn’t resist you. You were made for me.” He trailed his hand down my arm, which was covered in the marks that made up my cotie. The touch sent his feelings rushing through me.
Since our coties took up so much space, sharing emotions happened a lot between us. It’s hard to avoid someone’s entire right arm.
As he touched me, I felt his desire, his warmth, his newfound hope, and most of all, his love.
The microwave beeped, and he put the other cup inside.
“You might not realize it, but you saved me, Sav. Before I started following you around the world, I felt hopeless and meaningless. My family didn’t love me, and I didn’t think anyone else could either. I never fit into any group of shifters, no matter how hard I tried to be like them.”
His words echoed the exact feelings and thoughts I’d had, only making me more certain that the Creator really did know what he was doing. Jordie and I were definitely different, but in that are we were the same.
“Then I saw you and your short hair, rebelling in that small way. I saw you stand up to your brother, and I watched you fly from city to city just to keep yourself safe. You were so strong, and I guess watching you, I realized I could be strong too.”
“So I protected you, even though it was mostly just an excuse to be close to you. I went where you went and experienced what you experienced. Traveling with you, even though I was hiding from you, changed my life. You’re the greatest thing that has ever happened to me.” He gave me a wry smile, stirring chocolate powder into the milk.
The microwave beeped for the next cup, and he handed me my hot cocoa before pulling the other cup out.
“Wow.” I shook my head. “You’re incredible.”
“Nah.” Jordie kissed my forehead before getting to work perfecting the second cup of hot chocolate.
I sipped my hot chocolate, then asked,
“What’s something you always wondered the whole time you were stalking me?”
Jordie laughed.
“I can’t tell you my thoughts, you’ll think I’m crazy.” He protested with a smile.
“Really.” I smiled over my cup. “I want to know.”
“Alright.” Jordie rolled his eyes at me. “The very first thing I wanted to know was why you cut your hair short. That was literally the first question I had.” He told me. I laughed.
“Right after the explosion and the surgery, I felt different. Partially because I had just lost an important organ, and partially because I knew I’d never be like all the other girls no matter how hard I tried. I couldn’t find my mate and dance off into the sunset and have a bunch of baby panthers. I would never be like that.
“Cutting my hair was like proving to myself that I was different in other ways too, not just bad ways. I was strong and independent and free.” I shrugged. “And willing to do whatever I had to in order to stay that way, as the traveling proves.”
“Huh.” Jordie nodded.
“What else?” I asked.
“Well,” his cheeks reddened, and I laughed.
“You’re blushing.” I teased. “Come on, panthers aren’t allowed to show their emotions.”
“Ha ha.” He smiled sarcastically. “Second, I wondered why someone so beautiful would get stuck with me.” He admitted. “But I wanted to know what your panther looked like, too.” He hurried to add that, and I shook my head at him. “After that, I wondered what kind of books you’d be writing. Steamy romance? Historical fiction? Intense mysteries?”
“None of the above.” I grinned. “I wrote paranormal romance.” I admitted. “Ghosts, I’m ashamed to admit.” I bit my lip.
“That’s awesome.” Jordie laughed. “Don’t be ashamed of that, it’s cool. I always liked that you were a writer, because that meant you were probably an introvert.” He added.
“Yeah, I guess you might have a hard time if I was extroverted.” I nodded. “I would’ve never gotten you to tell me all your deep, dark secrets.” I flashed a smile at him.
“That is true.” He sipped at his hot chocolate. “Want to sit on the couch?” he checked.
“Yeah.” I nodded, sliding off the counter to follow him back into the living room. We sat on a couch together, both of us putting our legs up on the cushion that separated each of our cushions. They tangled together between us, and I couldn’t help but smile.
I’d never bother to imagine a perfect future with a perfect mate. I thought I’d be stuck in a life I hated as soon as I found my mate, that he would order me around and force me to do things that went against everything I felt was right. Jordie was nothing like that though.
If I had been able to imagine the perfect relationship I could come up with, it would look exactly like Jordie and I did that day. We would talk and spend time together and laugh and tell stories.
Jordie was the perfect man I’d never known I wanted, and I wouldn’t have asked for anyone different even if I could.
“Do you remember that time we were in the Eiffel Tower?” Jordie asked. He was blushing again, and it was adorable.
“Of course.” I smiled, my mind flashing back to that day.
I leaned over the railing, staring out at the city of love as it was all lit up at night. Couples holding hands walked the streets below me, while couples eating dinner sat at tables behind me. Love was in the air, and it was all around me.
I felt like I was being smothered, standing there as the only person who was all alone. Even those without a significant other had family or friends with them.
And then there was me, the girl who had run from the man she was supposed to love. I was hiding from my soulmate in the one place where love seemed to reign over everything else.
Alone in the city of love.
That would make a good title for a book, I thought. Alone in the City of Love. It could be a romance—a sad, heart-wrenching one. The main character would be running from an emotionally abusive family, hiding from the man who was her one chance at redemption.
Her name would be Savvy, and her story would be mine.
I sighed, the lights catching my eyes.
Alone in the City of Love.
That was me. The only person in the entire city who had no one in the world, I thought.
I closed my eyes and breathed the
love-filled air while hoping that somehow it could fill the emptiness that was inside me. Maybe somehow this city could fix the pain I felt, I thought.
And then my arm started to tingle. The silvery-black markings seemed to vibrate, alive for one reason, and one reason only:
The soulmate I was running from? He was there. Somewhere.
I looked back down at the city, that city of love, before hurrying down the stairs. I took them two by two, grateful for that animal side of me that kept me moving fluidly. My feet didn’t slide or misstep—they landed perfectly, the way a panther would when she jumped from a tree.
My mind caught on one thought, a single realization and sentence that played over and over in my head.
I looked back.
When I left the coffee shop that first day in Poulsbo, I hadn’t looked back once. Never before, in all my travels, in all the times I’d felt my cotie tingle, had I ever looked back.
But this time, I did.
Alone in the City of Love. I guess I was wrong about that. Even if I felt alone, my soulmate wouldn’t leave me that way.
I refused to let myself wonder why I had looked back in Paris of all places. It didn’t matter, I told myself. One way or another, I had to go. I couldn’t let him find me; I wasn’t ready to give up the life I’d created for myself. Love wasn’t worth losing who I was.
The tingling faded as I made it further down the stairs, and I thought I’d made it in the clear.
My eyes focused downward, on the map on my phone as I walked the few blocks to my hotel. Cutting through an alley, I didn’t bother worrying about any dark strangers hiding within. I was a panther, and I wasn’t afraid of anyone.
Then a man grabbed my arm, to which I automatically responded by punching him in the face.
He let me go, of course, but when I stepped back my cotie started tingling again.
A panther growled behind me, his attention pointed right at the man who had grabbed me. The man took a step back and the panther snarled. The man ran off after that, of course. What human would challenge a panther?
Then the animal turned to me. I held up my hands, my entire body quivering while my right arm tingled like mad.
