by S. J. Pierce
I think my face contorts into a sad, comforting smile. It’s difficult to know how to react when someone seems more torn up about something than you. I’m dealing with the loss in my own way, it just hasn’t involved many tears. Yet. “Thank you.”
“And thanks for helping today,” Maddie adds.
I nod my agreement.
Barnett removes his hat and runs a hand through his blond hair. “The least we can do.”
We stand in awkward silence.
Barnett clears his throat. Slaps Ralph’s shoulder. “Tell us where you need us. We’re all yours.”
Maddie starts up the stairs. “We can begin with his office up here. A lot of the furniture is empty. It just needs to be loaded.”
They follow after, and I head for the kitchen to continue packing dishes. As I pass the fridge, I pause to look at the pictures stuck to the door with magnets. The edges are curled, and some of them are faded from the few times a month sunlight pours in through the window over the sink. My eyes snag on a picture of Carson when he was born. I smile and sweep my finger over his tiny pink face, collecting a thin film of dust. My eyes move to the one beside it – Dad holding him. Grandaddy, Carson called him. The ones below are some I’ve never seen. Dad, hammer in hand, helping build a house. Dad serving something at what looks to be a soup kitchen. Dad wearing a Santa hat at Christmas. Dad posing with Maddie and Carson on a hike. This man, the man who seems happy and helpful and selfless, is not the man I knew in my teenage years, and it torques something tender deep inside.
“He loved his little buddy,” Maddie says behind me.
I jump.
She plucks the picture of the three of them off the fridge and smiles at it fondly, chin quivering. “Having a grandkid changed him.”
The guys’ boots pound down the stairs. A pause. “You got it?” Barnett asks.
Ralph grunts.
Wood creaks as they shift something.
They continue their descent.
Changed him. She’s said that before, but I always cut those conversations short. Felt like it was her way of manipulating me into reaching out to him, or at least answering his multiple texts and calls. But I wasn’t ready. I was never ready. And I had no idea how to even get ready. I just shoved the idea away and locked it into the place I kept other painful and festering things. It was something that would happen at a later time and place, after I got through school and settled into my new life. When I was more of an adult and my wounds more healed.
But that’s the problem, I guess. I thought there would be a later time and place. And now he’s gone.
Something rises in my throat and chokes me, my chest squeezing in tandem. And suddenly I find it hard to breathe. “Give me sec,” I manage and head for the front door.
I need air.
As I pass through the foyer, the last interaction I had with him finds me there. Wisps of the memory, faded and muted with time, jab into my mind, over and over like a red-hot skewer. We were fighting. We always fought. He wanted control of an uncontrollable daughter.
He grabbed my arm as I went to leave. Burning eyes. A hard set jaw. Desperation.
I said something hurtful.
He replied with something hurtful. I can’t remember what it was now, but oh, how it stung.
We knew how to do that to the other—say the right thing to inflict the most pain.
And then I did something I’d never done before—reared my hand back and slapped him across the cheek. I was drunk and high, and I barely even registered what I was doing by the time flesh met stubbled flesh.
We stood there in shock. He released my arm.
I readjusted the duffle bag on my shoulder and continued on my way.
Drove through the night toward Portland to start a new life. Somehow, I made it alive.
And I never looked back.
That was the last time I saw him.
22
Deer in Headlights
I head toward the far end of the porch and face the woods so the guys loading the truck don’t see the bewilderment on my face.
I’ve suppressed things for too long and they finally caught up with me.
I know the best thing to do would be the very thing I’ve been so dead set against—talk about it with Maddie. To go ahead and empty it all out and deal with it so it doesn’t continue to happen. I’m in the middle of a mine field in Dark Moon Falls. Around every corner of this house, of this town, is a memory waiting to blow me to bits.
But I can’t. I don’t know why, I just can’t. Maybe I’m afraid once the floodgates open, I won’t be able to close them again.
I’ll find a therapist when I get back home. I just need to survive the next couple days somehow.
Maddie’s footsteps approach from behind, and I suck in a lungful of air to settle my nerves. She quietly leans against the rail beside me, gaze focusing on the woods, so I don’t feel suffocated.
“I’m okay,” I immediately say.
The men’s boots tromp up the stairs behind us and into the house.
She doesn’t say anything, just stands there in silent support.
Minutes tick by, and another car pulls up. A pizza guy gets out and pulls out a stack of five pizzas from the backseat.
Five? “How many are coming?”
She laughs. “He should have five more with him. The wolf pack will be here soon. We needed a lot of muscle. And a lot of muscle has an appetite.”
Wolf pack. “The hunters?”
She nods.
“You sure they’re coming? They were hunting a witch this morning.”
She looks at me questioningly.
“A rogue witch. They came by the house I was at this morning.” I couldn’t bring myself to say his name. Or say aloud that they think the witch was in the house with me alone.
“Well,” she says with a sigh. “I haven’t heard otherwise. Levi would have told me if they weren’t coming.”
“Levi?”
“Their Team Lead.”
I think back to asshole’s house. To the authoritative wolf guy who asked him if he knew who I was. He must be Levi. Did he say that because he knows my dad? He must if he’s helping today. So, I guess it was a protective thing. Like a hey look, dude. She’s here for her father’s funeral. Don’t play with her emotions.
Too late.
“He liked Dad, and he said he’d have the guys come help us.”
The pizza man makes it up the stairs with the first stack of pizzas. Maddie joins him. “Follow me,” she says, and leads him into the house.
I turn my gaze to the woods again. Think of the wolves and the witch. Hopefully they found her.
Another car pulls up, but I don’t turn to see who it is.
Maddie comes back out, the pizza man at her heels. She stops at the top of the stairs as he hurries past to get the other five pizzas.
“Good,” she says behind me. “Jaxson’s here, at least.”
I reel.
Jerk my head around.
His Jeep pulls into the grass to give the moving truck and pizza man some room.
Like a homing beacon, Maddie instantly picks up on my reaction to his presence. She moves closer. Studies my expression, which is a mixture of shock and anger. Before she can say anything, I ask, “What’s he doing here?”
“He’s…how do you know him?” It takes her all of two seconds. “Ohmygod. He’s the Sex God, isn’t he?” She tries not to laugh.
I glare.
“He’s helping us. He liked Dad too.”
When Jaxson gets out of the car, our eyes immediately lock. I tried not to do it, to turn my head and look. It was an involuntary thing. Something I had no control over. Two magnets of the opposite charge in the same vicinity.
He freezes in place. A deer in headlights.
I make a beeline inside.
* * *
I snatch my purse, run up the stairs, and close myself in my old room. Carson is on the floor playing with toy cars. “Hey, Aunt Rhee,” he
says distractedly, and then bangs two together and makes an explosion sound.
“Hey, bud,” I reply, voice shaking, and make my way to the bed. Sink into the edge. Force myself to breathe.
What are the chances the guy I slept with last night knew my dad? And showed up the next morning to help us move?
I think back over my time with him last night and this morning. He never mentioned needing to be anywhere by noon, but then again, why would he? I was already planning to leave after breakfast, and I wasn’t going to see him again until Sunday.
Well, before I found out he’s a lying-ass piece of sh—
“Aunt Rhee?”
I look down to see Carson studying me.
I fix my face. I was snarling at the wall. “Sorry. Was thinking of something.”
“Was it of granddaddy? Momma said you didn’t get along.”
A blow to the stomach. “No, buddy,” I managed.
“Then you have to poop?”
I laugh. Why does everyone think I’m constipated? Jaxson brings it out in me.
I move to sit beside him on the floor. Hug my legs into me. “What’re you playing?”
“Cars,” he says simply.
A pair of footsteps head up the stairs and breeze past the door.
I go rigid as I listen.
Muted voices in the next room. Barrett and Ralph.
I return my interest to his cars…which reminds me. I pluck the present out of my purse and place it in his lap.
He blinks at it. Smiles up at me.
I nod.
I love buying him things.
The paper is shredded and flung behind him in a matter of seconds. He gasps. “A Bugatti!” His little arms fling around my neck.
I squeeze him back.
And this, right here, is why I love buying him things. The kid already has hundreds of ninety-nine cent Hot Wheels, but each new car is met with the same enthusiasm and gratitude as the very first.
My sister did well.
He immediately returns to playing, taking special care to place his new car into the mix.
The door softly creaks open and my sister’s head peeks through. She smiles when she sees us on the floor together. I whisper, “I’ll start packing in here.”
A nod and she’s gone. She knows better than to pry me out of here with a guy I don’t like around, and I refuse to be a brat and ask her to kick him out. We need his muscles.
I just don’t want to be in the same room as him.
Speaking of muscles…
A flashback barrels in of him on top of me in his living room. His hard body rocking against mine. The urgency in his expression as he begged me to come for him…again.
I grunt and stand. Busy myself with emptying old clothes out of my drawers so we can donate them.
The last thing I need is to think about his magical dick.
It doesn’t change a thing.
23
Crooked Tiara
One can theoretically get a lot done in three hours when you don’t have distractions.
But I’m not that one.
Carson left me two hours ago for pizza, so even though the room has been quiet, my mind won’t settle long enough to focus on much of anything...thanks to Jaxson. And the hunters, who arrived not long after him. From what I could tell through these thin walls, they apparently didn’t catch the rogue. She’s still on the loose. But they lost her scent somewhere near the county line and felt comfortable enough with that to come back and help.
One of them said they would try to track her down again in the morning.
Every now and then, amidst the wolf banter and between my sister barking orders, I’ll hear Jaxson’s voice echoing up the stairs or mumbling something as he passes my room. Nothing interesting, just asking where something needs to go or small-talking one of the hunters. His voice sounds sullen. Darker. Not like the guy I met at the bar. Or the one who took me home and fucked me like it was our last night on Earth.
Needless to say, all I’ve managed to do is pile my old clothes on the floor in semi-organized mounds, and now I’m sitting cross-legged on my bed while rummaging through the contents of my bedside table. Most of it’s junk—a broken hairbrush, an empty lotion bottle, gum wrappers, horribly written poems. But I did find a tiara from my sixteenth birthday and my old sketchbook.
While I flip through the amateur charcoal drawings, a herd of buffalo (aka the hunters) come up the stairs and stop in the hallway outside my room.
“How’s that side wound healing?” someone asks. I think Levi.
“I’m good, man. It’s healed.” Jaxson.
I pause. My breathing stills.
A…wound? He’s wounded? Or was wounded. Wolves heal fast if it’s not too serious or fatal.
What would have wounded him? And when?
I slide off the bed and creep to the door to get a better listen.
“Leave the rogue hunting to us next time, huh?” another says.
Chuckling.
Blood drains from my face. He went after the rogue witch? She must have cut him or something. What the hell was he thinking?
Flesh hits flesh, like someone getting smacked across the back of the head. “Give him a break already,” Levi says. “One of them was in his home. Can you blame him for checking it out?”
“Yeah, man,” a woman echoes. A female hunter. I think I’ve heard someone call her Sam. “At least he got close enough to get hurt. We haven’t even managed that yet.”
“You guys ready to get this dresser?” one of the hunters say, changing the subject. Mumbles of agreement. Footsteps continue down the hall.
I hold my sketchbook to my chest and stare a hole through the door. It shouldn’t matter to me that Jaxson got hurt, but I’d be lying if I said it didn’t. Sure, he’s an asshole, but I don’t want him dead. And that’s exactly what he’ll be if he tries to hunt down a rogue again on his own.
Why would he do that?
Maybe Levi was right—it freaked Jaxson out that a rogue was in his home. But it wasn’t because of me, right? Because she was in there with me alone? He’s being protective?
The herd’s footsteps make their way back to my door and descend the stairs. A pair pauses outside my door and stalls. A soft knock. “Anyone in here?” Jaxson says.
My heart stops.
I freeze.
The knob jiggles and turns.
I try to step back to avoid getting hit by the door, but it swings open so fast I don’t have time. It smacks me across the cheek and I stumble back, dropping my book. It clatters against the wood floor in a deafening sound.
“Ohgod,” he gasps. “Rhee…”
When I regain my footing, all I can do is stand there holding my cheek, and I’m not sure which hurts worse, my face or my pride.
“Are you okay?” he says, horrified. He bends to pick up my book. “I’m sorry, I—”
“What do you want?” I finally bark.
He steps toward me cautiously. “I was trying to see who was in here.”
“Why?”
“Well…to see if you were in here.”
I glare. “Why?” Was my hiding in here not an obvious attempt at avoiding him?
“I just…I have some things I wanted to say about…” His eyes trail above my head and fixate there. Squint. “Your, um…” He motions with his finger. “I knocked your…thingy
crooked.”
What?
I feel around the top of my head and my cheeks flame. Right. The tiara. I forgot I put it on. I take it off and fling it onto the bed behind me. It’s then I’m acutely aware of the shirt I’ve yet to change. I cross my arms over the words he’s already reading, and I really just want to die. Right here, in my old bedroom, where he found me wearing this damn wolf shirt and crooked tiara.
At least he’s kind enough not to laugh.
On the outside.
I pointedly clear my throat. Hitch a brow. You were saying?
“Look…” he says and hands over m
y book. I cling to it like it will somehow save me from this horribly awkward moment. From this infuriatingly gorgeous man wearing a sweat-dampened shirt and grey sweatpants that hang off his hips in all the right ways. And his smell…his clean, musky, hypnotizing….
Focus.
“I wanted to apologize. I was wrong not to be upfront with you. I’m sorry.” He pauses to give me a chance to say something.
I don’t. He’s lucky I’m even allowing him in here. I could have already thrown him and his useless apology out.
“I didn’t know who you were and that your dad had just…I didn’t know this was your house. I didn’t connect you with this family. I wouldn’t have attempted to…”
I huff. Roll my eyes. Imagine that. He’s having a hard time being smooth with words again.
“What?” he says, and the torment that settles into the lines of his face is palpable. He can’t stand that he’s saying everything and I’m saying nothing. “Tell me what you want to say.”
“I don’t think you want that,” I quip.
“I do.”
“Okay, then.” I back against the edge of the bed. “I don’t accept your apology. Whose daughter I am shouldn’t matter, but the fact that I’m a human being should. Something you didn’t consider when you lied to me about being a wolf because you knew what would happen if you didn’t—you wouldn’t get laid.”
“I know. It was wrong of me. I just thought that—”
“Thought that what? That once you got me in bed, I’d be okay with it?”
“No. Not at all. That once you got to know me, it wouldn’t matter what I was. I wanted you to give me a shot.” The devastation in his eyes deepen, and it almost pings something sympathetic inside, but I quickly recover, remembering I’m dealing with a liar. “That’s what I was about to tell you back in my kitchen, right before Levi and the hunters showed up.”
“Why does any of that matter, though?” I say, my voice low and wounded. “Why does it matter why you lied or that you were going to come clean in your kitchen? You should have told me before we left for your house. Or better yet, you never should have lied to me in the first place. It wasn’t your call. It was mine.” I angrily point to my chest. “It was mine. If you were honest with me, and I decided not to sleep with you, then that’s my choice, and you took that from me.”
