by Kitt Rose
“Yeah. Johnny was at a table with three guys, Greg, Duke, and one whose face was glued to a blonde's the whole time. I never got a good look at him so I didn't know… Wow. Is that his girlfriend?”
Now I really laughed. “Yeah, no. Elliot hasn't changed that much since you left. He's still a serial dater. That was, believe it or not, their first date. And based on the sounds of it, their last.”
Libby's expression warmed, her lips turning up and splitting in a smile that transformed her face. She had an extraordinary smile, large enough to light up an entire room.
And I had missed that smile.
“You mean he's a man whore still?” Libby asked.
I nodded, then shook my head in exasperation. “He hasn't changed. In fact, he's only gotten worse since Izzy started trying to fix him up.”
“Oh no. I tried that once with Just.” Her smile slipped suddenly, the light in her eyes dimming. “It didn't work so well.”
“What happened, Lib?” I asked softly. “What happened to you? Where did you go? Why did you—?” I stopped myself from asking why she left. I knew it had not been her choice.
Libby looked up, gaze sweeping over my face, that sadness back behind her eyes. Finally, she said, “I need more coffee before I can talk about it. How about you tell me your story first?” She took a deep breath, then muttered, “Starting with why the hell you never wrote me back.”
“What? When did you write me?”
“After we moved to Georgia, I wrote you a letter every week. Mailed the letters to the address you gave me, the one at school. But you never answered me.”
For a moment, shock flooded me, and then my anger roared back to life, white-hot and caustic. I yanked my cell phone from my pocket in jerky motions and dialed my father. While it rang, I tried to manage my rage. The brittle cracking of my phone case told me I was failing, and I forced a deep breath into my tight chest, exhaling slowly through my nose.
It was early, but Tobias Stefan was a farmer and rose with the sun, just like me. He answered on the third ring, surprise in his hello. After what he had done, a phone call was a rare occasion. I had all but cut Dad out of my life as punishment.
“Letters,” I all but growled, bypassing even a hello. “Libby sent me letters. I never got them. Was it you?”
“Guess it's true she's back,” Tobias replied in a soft, careful voice. The kind of voice you would use on a wounded animal.
I made a noise of impatience. “Did you keep them from me?”
He didn't hesitate. “Yes. She wasn't—”
“Don't. I don't want your excuses. Do you have them still?” I dropped into one of the kitchen chairs and shoved a hand through my hair.
“I do.”
“I want them. Don't make me order you. I'll have Elliot pick them up today.” And then, without waiting for an answer, I hung up and slammed my cell phone onto the tabletop, hard enough I was a little surprised it didn't break. “Fuck. Lib, I…”
I dropped my head onto the cool wooden surface of the table, my forehead hit something sticky. I didn't care.
Betrayal, so strong, was tearing up my insides. My wolf was shredding me and my skin burned with the urge to change and run. But it wouldn't matter, I couldn't run far enough to escape what my own father had done to my life.
A warm, soft hand closed over mine. Libby stroked the skin above my wrist with her thumb.
“So, I take it you never got my letters,” she whispered.
My laugh was bitter. “Yeah, no. Never got them.”
Libby hesitated with an audible breath. “And when I called your room and a woman answered?”
My head popped back up, eyes wide. “What? A woman? When?”
Libby moved to the chair next to me. Her eyes softening and growing warm. “I thought you lied to me. Or maybe I was a mistake. I—”
“Never,” I said, interrupting her. I grabbed her hand, squeezed. “I meant every word. I looked for you for so many years.”
Libby shook her head. “After my mom died, our stepdad threw us out of the house. Justice and I moved around a lot, trying to keep ahead of CPS. I lost touch with everyone. A telephone was a luxury we couldn't afford. I'm not surprised you couldn't find me. I'm just really glad to hear that you looked. I'd worked it up in my head, that—Well, it doesn't matter now.”
“Yes, it does. Libby, it fucking does. I know it's been a long time, but it matters. You matter. You always have. Always will.”
Sadness touched her face, drawing her mouth down. “I don't. Life has shown me time and again that I don't mean shit. You can't count on anyone but yourself.”
“That's just not true. And you can't believe it is, or you wouldn't have come home. You have family here. You have me here. I don't know what happened to you, but you can't cut yourself off from everyone. You have to let people in.”
“I'm not that girl, Ash. The Libby you knew is dead. Letting people in is just asking to be hurt and disappointed and I've had enough of that to last a lifetime,” she said, pain and bitterness in every word.
I clenched my hands at my sides so I wouldn't shake her. The words to tell her how much she mattered to me were on the tip of my tongue. I wanted to tell her no one in this world came before her. That I would take her in whatever form she came.
Because that would totally frighten her off. If I pushed too hard and fast, I'd scare her. She wouldn't understand, wasn't ready to understand.
So instead I said, “I'm not the same person either. Everyone changes. Let's get to know each other again. But I want to put it out there, so we don't have any more of these misunderstandings, I want you in my life. I want you in my future.”
Libby's breath caught. “I… Ash… Shit.”
And just like that, she laughed. The sound was sweet, carefree, and shook her shoulders. She leaned into me, putting her forehead on my shoulder in a gesture that spoke of comfort and familiarity.
I wrapped my arms around her, not understanding what was funny, but relishing the sound of her joy all the same. If I had anything to say about it, there would be a lot more laughter in both our lives now.
4
Libby
“Is it safe to come back now?” Johnny said from the doorway, wet hair hanging in dripping strands.
I jerked away from Ash's embrace, swiping at the remnants of tears. “Yeah. Sorry.”
Ash grinned, nudging me back to the kitchen table
A huge weight had evaporated from my shoulders knowing he hadn't gotten my letters. Of course, that didn’t explain why he'd never written or called. But for now, it was enough.
Johnny dropped into the chair across from me. “All made up now? BFFs again? Gonna braid each other's hair and shit?”
I glared, grabbed a piece of egg, and chucked it at him. The bastard jerked to the side and caught the fluffy yellow blob in his mouth and chewed with a smile.
Cocky jerk.
While I finished my breakfast, Johnny and Ash talked. Both of them stared at me, off and on, watching me with very different expressions. Johnny's expression reminded me of the looks Justice used to give me. And Ash's… Well, his made me remember all too vividly what it had been like to kiss him. The heat and passion.
But that would never happen again. No matter why we had lost contact, losing Ash the first time had shattered my heart into tiny, razor-sharp pieces. They had cut and burned for years, but time had dulled the shards' edges.
I couldn't go back to that kind of pain again.
I shot to my feet, the need to do something, anything other than contemplate the past overwhelming. “I need to unpack,” I blurted.
Ash froze, then said, “I'll help.”
“You want to help me unpack?” I said in disbelief. “I don't even want to unpack.”
Johnny snickered. “I think it's more that he doesn't want to say goodbye yet.”
Amazingly, a wash of pink flooded Ash's cheeks. I tried to remember if I had ever seen Ash blush before. I didn't think so.
“I guess so. Thanks,” I said after a long moment. Spending time with Ash would be fine. I just needed to remember we would never be more than friends.
Ash followed me up to my room.
“Feels strange. Like deja vu,” I said as we crossed the threshold into my room. “Being back here, in this town. You following me up to my room after a meal. It's like a flashback to childhood.”
Ash walked straight to my bed and grabbed Gigi's quilt, folded it neatly, and set it on my pillow. “It's a good flashback, I hope.”
I thought about his statement, conflicted. At this point, I wasn’t sure if the easy familiarity of this place was a good thing. Home, family, and Ash had all been ripped from me before. What was I setting myself up for this time?
Ash grabbed a box from the top of the pile and set it on the bed. I took the next one and dropped it next to his. I folded back the top and moved empty hangers to the closet.
“You were my best friend,” I said. “And after losing Justice, I could really use a friend right now.”
He tugged a hand through his hair. A lock fell across his forehead, barely brushing his eyebrow. “You've got me, Lib,” he said softly. He held my eyes for another moment, then opened the box in front of him.
I returned to my hangers, heard a deep chuckle, and turned back to find Ash holding something black and lacey in his hand.
What was he—Oh, hell no!
With a screech, I yanked the bra out of his grasp. Stuffed it back into the cardboard and tossed the whole box onto the closet floor. “Not that box.”
Hastily, I shoved another one on the bed, this one heavier and likely filled with books. Nothing as embarrassing as the contents of my underwear drawer. I opened it to be sure. Ash grabbed the first thing in the box before I processed what it was. I turned, ready for embarrassment, to find him holding a raggedy stuffed wolf.
A different sort of embarrassment brought warmth to my cheeks.
Ash held the grey and dirty-white plush in front of his face. “You kept it?”
“Yes. I… it's normally on my bed.” The warmth crawled down my neck as my flush deepened. “I mean, I don't sleep with it. I don't sleep with stuffed animals at twenty-four. More that it's—”
“I understand,” he said, cutting me off. His eyes met mine. “I bought this for you with my allowance and chore money. Felt like I'd saved forever to be able to afford it. I think it was all of fifteen dollars, but it seemed like so much money then. You were what, five or six?”
I nodded. I didn't remember exactly, but that sounded right. He'd given it to me for Valentine's Day. Originally the little wolf pup had a plush red heart between its front paws.
“Do you remember the heart?” I asked.
He smiled, showing perfect white teeth. “How could I forget? All your classmates had friendship bracelets or necklaces or some such crap and you wanted to do something too. Oh, you were ticked that I refused.”
“Well, it wasn't my fault my best friend was a boy.”
Violet eyes sparkled with warmth and humor. “Such a hardship, I know. To be fair, you came up with the blood oath though.”
“I'd seen it in the movie. Well, not exactly what we did. I think they poked their fingers and pressed them together. Ours was better. Sort of inspired.”
“It was. I'd never seen someone so eager to cut up her favorite stuffed animal. You ripped that heart off and gutted it as well as any seasoned hunter. But you couldn't stomach the blood, so I had to cut both our fingers. And then we dripped our blood into the stuffing inside. You stitched up the heart, and we buried it in the woods in one of Gigi's cookie tins.”
“You forgot the picture, the one of us we put with it. Remember?”
A corner of his lip kicked up. “I remember. I have a copy of that picture at home. It's one of my favorites.”
The photo had been a favorite of mine, too. I didn't remember when I'd last seen the print, but it had rested on my nightstand for years.
Too many things lost and left behind.
“I'd love a copy, if you can manage it.”
“Of course. What happened to yours?”
I tossed my empty box on the floor and grabbed the next. “I don't know. Do you think the heart's still out there? Under that tree?”
When a couple minutes had passed without a response, I looked up to see Ash with the stuffed animal pressed to his nose. Was he smelling the wolf?
“What on earth are you doing?”
Ash jerked the plush away, eyes flying to me. His irises were brighter somehow, the pupils shrunken to tiny pinpoints of black in a sea of violet. “Why does this smell like…”
When he didn't finish his sentence, I said, “Smell like what?”
He shook his head, his nostrils flaring. “Nothing, never mind.”
Ash set the wolf pup carefully on top of Gigi's quilt and unpacked the rest of the box. He set my books on the nearly empty bookshelf. I watched him work for a moment, wondering what he had smelled on the wolf. I sincerely hoped it wasn't vomit. That would be embarrassing.
On the not-so-rare occasion I got a migraine which typically came with vomiting, I cuddled with the stuffed animal.
We worked in comfortable silence for several more boxes before Ash asked, “So, where were you living? Georgia still?”
“Yeah. We started in Columbus, ended in Atlanta, with a lot of places in between. My senior year of high school we moved three times, trying to stay under the radar of Child Protective Services. You know my mom died about a year after we moved?” He made a noise of assent and I continued, “Well, Mick had no interest in being a stepdad so he kicked us out. Justice looked older, and he had some money—I found out later that he actually stole it from Mick, but whatever. He got us an apartment above some guy's garage. We were there for about three months before one of the neighbors called C.P.S. We ditched, left everything behind. I think that's where I lost that picture. Justice managed to sneak in once and grab some stuff. But after that, we carried anything important with us. Took me a long time to stop packing like I would never come back anytime I left home.”
Ash stopped working on his box and grabbed my hand, squeezing. “I know it's just empty words, but I'm so fucking sorry you went through that.” He swallowed, his throat bobbing. “If I would have known, had any idea…”
Tentatively, I reached up to touch his cheek with the first three fingers on my right hand, the contact light—barely there. His skin was so warm and slightly rough. My fingers tingled. That feeling increased when his hand came down on top of mine, pressing my palm to his cheek.
His eyes fluttered closed.
“Ash,” I whispered.
His eyes rose lazily to half-mast. “Hmm?”
“Why didn't your dad give you my letters? He liked me. I mean, I was friends with your whole family, our families are friends. We did sleepovers as kids, spent Christmas together. Was it because…?” I hesitated, dread gnawing at my stomach. “Did he not think I was good enough for you?”
I hated to think it, but we were in a small town. Everyone knew everyone else's business, and it was no secret that my mom and dad weren't married. My mom had gotten knocked up in high school, at sweet sixteen. Lord knew I'd heard enough as a child to know her reputation had suffered because of it.
Ash shook his head, still holding my hand to his cheek. “No. It's nothing like that.” He let my hand go and sighed. “My dad and family all love you. They just…” A noise of frustration exploded out of his mouth and he dragged both hands through his hair. “Damn it!”
He stalked to the window and parted the dated plaid curtain, staring outside. Without turning around, he said, “I swear to you, I will explain all of this.”
Something inside me deflated, collapsed in on itself. I knew that tone—the subtle brush off. “Just not today,” I said, resigned.
Ash spun back to face me, his eyes sweeping over my face quickly, and then he was in front of me again. Towering over me. Both hands landed on my shoul
ders and slid up my neck to cup my jaw, tilting my face up. Moving slowly, his face descended, getting closer and closer, until his forehead pressed to mine. His nose brushed against mine, his breath warm against my lips.
All the oxygen in my lungs ignited, and I fought a gasp.
“I just found you again. I want to give you time to get to know me, without all this heavy stuff. But everything is so fucking complicated. Give me a week.”
I closed my eyes and shook my head. Not because I disagreed, or because I simply had to know. But because I hated being pushed off.
“Friday,” he whispered. “Do you remember the cabin?”
“The old hunting place?”
“Yeah. We'll go Friday, and I'll tell you—no, I'll show you everything. We can spend the weekend. Go to the hot springs. You used to love that.”
I had. The cabin had been a dump, but the land it was on was gorgeous. Isolated. Set deep in the woods, inaccessible by car. And then there was the spring. A natural hot tub not too far from the cabin. Justice, Elliot, Izzy, Ash, Johnny, and I had snuck off with a cooler full of beer and had a party once. Lounging in the water, sipping cheap, lukewarm beer and listening to music. I remembered the peace of that day, the quiet joy. Only once, maybe twice in the years since that summer had I felt anything close to it.
And, oh God, how I wanted it.
My eyes opened slowly, violet filling my world.
“Yes,” I breathed.
Those amazing eyes crinkled at the corners, lighting up with joy. “Thank you.”
5
Ash
I was distracted as we finished unpacking Libby's room. The moment we finished and she excused herself to take a shower, I sprinted downstairs to find Johnny.
“Where's the fire?” Johnny asked. He was sitting on the couch, tinkering with something mechanical. The man couldn't sit still, always had to be doing something.
“I need your nose. Come smell this. Something's on Libby's things.” There was something very close to panic churning in my gut. I needed a second nose because mine was failing me.
