by Zoe Chant
“Okay, so, I’m just gonna go… tidy some shelves…” Manu muttered, and slunk off.
Jackson stared at her. She didn’t stare back. Her eyes were fixed on one of the windows behind him, and her fingers kept twitching on the doorframe as though she was one wrong word from disappearing into the back room again.
The air between them felt tight.
“Olly,” Jackson began, his voice edged around with an awkward burr, and it was as though someone had taken a crank and twisted the air until it was ready to crack. Olly’s chest hitched.
Something is wrong.
Her face was too pale. The shadows under her eyes were even deeper than he remembered from the night before and her lips were almost colorless.
“What’s wrong?” he half-whispered. It came out too rough.
Olly’s eyes flickered, but she didn’t look at him, and she didn’t answer.
“Olly, this is… Something’s wrong. I know it is. You’ve got hellhounds working here, and you’re not even front-of-house anymore?” He stepped forward, lowering his voice. “If someone’s making you act like this…”
Olly let out a bark of something that sounded almost like laughter. She lifted one hand to cover her face as though she was trying to grab hold of the sound before it got out.
“The only person who makes me act like anything is me. Don’t you know that by now?”
Her eyes flashed to meet his and jerked away just as quickly. It was only a split second, but that was long enough for Jackson to see the expression in them. She was confused, and frustrated, and… hurt.
He paused, searching for the right words to connect the uneasy feeling in his gut with whatever instinct had dragged him in here in the first place, and Olly jumped into the gap.
“What are you doing here, anyway? You’re not deputy anymore, you can’t just barge in and start giving orders to people.”
“I came to pick up—”
If he’d had any doubts Olly had scouted out the whole situation already, her next words confirmed it.
“That’s your truck outside?”
Jackson nodded and he saw her file the information away.
Her lip quivered. “I didn’t even recognize it. I thought—but then, I thought, you couldn’t possibly have come back—I should have looked more carefully—” Her head jerked. “That doesn’t matter. It’s outside, you could have just picked it up. You didn’t need to come in here. There’s no reason for you to come inside.”
No reason? All the guilt Jackson had been holding onto for the past year welled up inside him. Did she really think he’d let go of everything he felt for her? “What if I wanted to see you?”
She went completely still. She still wasn’t looking at him, but her eyes hardened, clouding over like glass and just as brittle.
“Why would you want to do that?”
Her voice gave nothing away, and that was all Jackson needed to know. Olly was quiet, but she braided her emotions into her words, even when she didn’t speak above a whisper. This flat tone wasn’t her.
Frustration twisted with guilt in Jackson’s chest. He’d left Pine Valley because he’d thought it was the right thing to do. For them both. What was the point of everything he’d gone through in the last year, if it hadn’t helped her?
“I don’t know, Olly. Maybe because I still care about you.”
“Despite—” Olly’s face twisted and she raised her hand again to hide it. “Despite everything? Despite me being me?” And then, in a whisper that was at once reassuringly familiar and discomfortingly ragged: “I’m not ready. I can’t even think about this now, let alone talk about it. Please.”
Her eyes went hazy. He knew what that meant: she was talking to another shifter telepathically.
Or listening to one, he amended as her expression tensed. And it was bad news.
Olly bit her bottom lip. Her eyes flicked past Jackson, to where Manu was hovering awkwardly. The hellhound’s expression mirrored hers, right down to the way both their gazes kept flickering in and out of focus.
“Flea,” Olly muttered. “Oh, God, this is the last thing I need.”
“What?”
“It’s trouble. One of the tour groups—”
“The couple,” Manu interrupted. “Olly, I can’t go out there. Not if he’s freaking out this badly. Our hellhounds…”
“I know.” Olly was completely still, locked in thought.
“Then we’ll go. You stay here and man the shop, and Olly and I will go sort out whatever’s wrong.”
“Don’t be stupid, she can’t—”
“Yes I can.” Olly’s voice cut like a knife. “I’ll go.”
“But—”
“I will. I have to stop all this—I have to do better. Get better. Be less myself, or more my old self, or…”
She stuck her chin out and made for the back door as though she wanted to make a grand exit. Jackson’s chest twisted as she stopped in the doorway as though she’d walked into a wall. Her shoulders rose like hackles and she pushed forward.
Manu grabbed Jackson’s shoulder as he followed her. “Be careful,” he muttered.
Jackson was about to shake him off, or swear at him, but something in the hellhound shifter’s voice stopped him. It was fear. Not the fear of hellfire, but a normal, human concern.
“I mean be careful for her,” Manu added, tripping over his words. “She’s still—last year—if Flea loses control of his hellhound and looks at her, she can’t snap out of it like most people do—”
“Why do you think I’m going with her?” Jackson pushed him off roughly and headed after Olly.
Flea had to be another hellhound shifter. Jackson cursed silently. If Olly couldn’t shake off the hellhounds’ magically terrifying gaze, why did she work with them, for God’s sake?
The yard was filled with the barks and howls of agitated dogs. Olly was in the garage, half-hidden behind its open door. Even though she’d just walked through the yard, she was scouring it with eyes as hard as diamonds.
Jackson frowned. She’s half-panicked over whatever is going on and still can’t go outside without checking the area first. A grim certainty lodged in Jackson’s chest. There was no way he was leaving here without finding out what was wrong.
12
Olly
The Puppy Express wasn’t all dogsleds—Bob had a couple of snowmobiles, too. Olly and Jackson were on one now, roaring along the track and following Flea’s telepathic yelps of unease.
Hellhound! her owl hissed. We’re going straight towards him!
Yes, well, that’s the idea, Olly muttered back. Her owl scratched unhappily, keeping its suspicious attention on the road. And as annoying as that was, at least it meant its attention wasn’t on Jackson.
Jackson, perched behind her on the snowmobile. His big, solid body nudging against hers every time they hit a bump in the track. Jackson, who’d turned so instantly protective when he thought she was hurt…
Her stomach hollowed out. I shouldn’t have let him come.
What? Her owl turned its attention back to her, quick as a whip. Why not? You told me he’s not important, but now you’re—
Luckily, Flea’s voice burst on top of anything else it might have said.
*Come quick! Please!*
*We’re on our way!* she reassured him.
What am I missing? her owl muttered. There’s something you’re not telling me. Something I can’t see.
Olly swallowed. I can’t tell you right now.
Then how can I keep you safe? Flea won’t say what’s happening and now you won’t tell me what’s wrong and—corner ahead! Her owl tightened its claws around her ribs.
I see it. She’d run this track a thousand times, on the dogsleds and the snowmobiles, so she wasn’t worried about missing the turn. She leaned into the easy curve of the track, and her owl clamped down on her.
Corner! it shrieked. Can’t see past it!
Olly gasped and almost lost control. The snowmobile fis
htailed and Jackson leaned forward, his body heavy against hers as he grabbed the handlebars. Olly shrank in on herself. Her owl’s fear echoed in her skull.
Can’t see past it—can’t prepare—can’t know what to do, what’s going to happen—
Her pulse thudded in her ears as Jackson righted their course. They turned the corner. There was nothing there: just trees, and snow, and inside her head, Flea’s urgent cries.
Jackson cut the engine. “Are you all right?”
His voice was deafening in the sudden silence. Olly drew in a ragged breath that only seemed to half-fill her lungs.
Are you alright? she asked her owl.
It hunkered down low inside her and didn’t answer. Flea’s cries for help were still knocking against her skull.
“Keep going,” she forced out with the little air she’d managed to suck in. She grabbed at pieces of Flea’s words, knowing Jackson couldn’t hear him. “They’re at the lake. Sweetheart—Sweetheart Lake. It’s a mile, maybe a bit more—”
“I know where it is.” Jackson pulled her around to face him, not roughly, but her skin still burned under her clothes everywhere he touched her. “It’s you I’m worried about.”
Don’t be. “I’ve got it under control,” she said, hoping it wasn’t a lie and knowing it was. Meaghan was right. Jackson was right. Something was wrong with her, seriously wrong, and it had taken him coming back for her to see it.
What’s wrong? her owl demanded. You have to tell me!
I almost crashed! She bit her lip. You were so scared about all the things you don’t know, that I almost— Olly shook her head. She couldn’t think about this right now. Out loud, she said, “Please. Let’s just go.”
“All right.” Jackson didn’t hide how reluctant he was. “But I’m driving.”
She slid onto the seat behind him, hesitated, and wrapped her arms around him as he set off. He was too tall for her to see past, so she had to rely on her other senses. She strained her ears so hard her jaw ached.
Her owl scratched for attention. Why did you let him drive?
Because you almost made us crash!
We couldn’t see where we were going! If we don’t know what’s in front of us and around us and, and about us, something might sneak up on us!
So it’s better that we wipe out? Olly gritted her teeth.
There was a hesitation, then her owl said, I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to make us crash. I just needed to know what’s ahead. I always need to know what’s ahead.
Yes, she thought back fiercely, not ready to give up on being angry yet. I know! All year, you haven’t let me do anything without checking and checking and checking every goddamn thing, and it hasn’t done anything except make my life worse! Even my best friend thinks I’ve gone crazy. And Jackson…
She could feel it already: her owl gathering itself up to say, Oh him, he doesn’t matter, and she couldn’t bear it. Not while she was sitting here pressed against him, her skin still warm from his concern for her, her heart aching for everything that had happened between them.
But it works, her owl insisted. If we have all the pieces of information beforehand, we know what to expect. Nothing has snuck up on us all year!
Jackson did! Olly couldn’t stop herself. You tell me when a tourist sneezes three blocks away but you didn’t even tell me he was there in the kitchen, staring at me?
Him? He—but he— Her owl seethed. You said he wasn’t important!
Well, he is!
The Sweetheart Lake rest stop was in a small clearing overlooking a mountain lake… or pond, really; it wasn’t that large. This time of year, it was frozen over, and made a romantic backdrop to the picnic table and Puppy Express mailbox, where visitors could post cards or letters to be delivered by dogsled on Christmas Eve.
Flea had set out earlier with a young couple who’d been so wrapped up in each other that Olly’s uncle wouldn’t have let them take a sled out without a guide even if they’d asked. She doubted they’d heard a word of Flea’s safety talk. She was surprised they were the group causing trouble, and not one of the boisterous families that had booked in today. How the hell did two people cause trouble when they couldn’t even tear their eyes off one another?
She waited for her owl to say something sarcastic, but it was unusually quiet. It hadn’t said anything since she told it Jackson was important. She didn’t want to think about what that might mean. She just hoped it didn’t figure out the truth. There was too much going wrong with this day already without her owl confirming what she already knew: that love or not, she and Jackson could never be together.
*We’re almost here,* she called out to Flea. They were coming up the last twisty bit of the trail, choked with brush and trees, hiding their view of whatever had happened at the lake. Olly leaned forward so she could peer over Jackson’s shoulder. She told herself it wasn’t so she could press herself closer against him, as though she was squeezing as much contact from him out of this situation as possible.
“Any idea what we’re getting into here?” Jackson called over his shoulder.
“No,” Olly called back over the engine’s roar. “Flea just keeps yelling about something being wrong.”
Jackson snorted. “Yelling in your head, you mean. We’re the loudest things here. I can’t hear a thing other than this machine.”
They came around the last turn. There was the lake, snow-covered ice stretching clean and pristine under the winter sky. There were the dogs, milling around next to the picnic table, still hitched to the sled, as if they’d simply been abandoned. No people were in sight at all.
Jackson braked and cut the machine’s engine, and abruptly the only sound was the barking and whining of the impatient dogs, who were now getting tangled up in their harnesses trying to get to the newly arrived humans.
“Where the hell is everybody?” Jackson asked. Olly started to dismount to catch the dogs, but he caught her arm, keeping her on the machine while he looked around for danger.
Look out! her owl shrieked at her.
Olly wrenched free and leaped off the snowmobile in a pure instinctive reaction, so fast one of her feet got caught on the running board. Her owl tried to shift and make her run and hide behind a tree at the same time. She stumbled over feet that suddenly didn’t feel the right size or shape and found herself ass-deep in snow at the side of the picnic area. Jackson hastily slid off the machine after her.
“Olly! What happened? Are you—”
“I’m sorry! It’s just me!” Flea bounded up from behind a snowy bush. His winter coat was caked with snow, and in the shadow of the hood, his eyes were hellfire red.
Olly had managed to hold on to her human form, but that didn’t stop her from flying back to twelve months ago, when she’d first seen Flea and the other hellhound shifters.
Terror rolled over her. Terror that made no sense, but nothing made sense, because she hadn’t seen the men approach, hadn’t heard them come into the shop—the bell above the door hadn’t rung, the door was still locked, she hadn’t opened up yet, how had they gotten in?—but they were in, and their eyes were like windows to every secret fear she’d ever hidden herself away from…
“Olly! Olly, can you hear me? It’s okay. You’re not—get away from her, you’re not helping!”
Jackson. Jackson’s voice, heavy with concern and sharp with an edge that didn’t cut into her but around her, as though it was carving a protective space around them both. She drew a shaky breath. It was so familiar. Why was it familiar? She tried to push herself up, using the counter as support, but there was no counter, she was outside, her gloved hands crunching on snow…
That was it. She knew why it sounded familiar. Because that, the shop and the counter and the hellhound shifters who moved so quickly between shapes she couldn’t keep count of them, was then, and this, sitting in the snow with the winter air sharp on her face, was now. Two separate occasions.
And Jackson was there in both, wrapping himself around her like arm
or.
She drew a ragged breath and opened her eyes. The first thing she saw was Jackson’s face. His eyes pulled her in, warm and brown and oh God, she was lost and found at the same time.
He’s not—
Olly clamped down on her owl before it could utter another syllable.
“Say something.” It wasn’t not an order, or a plea, but something in between that tugged at Olly’s heart.
She wet her lips. “Did I scream?”
“Do you ever scream?” His lips outlined a smile, but his eyes were still deep with concern. “You went quiet. Too quiet.”
I’m always quiet. The words didn’t make it out of her mouth.
“This is why I couldn’t go out there and tell them myself,” Flea moaned from somewhere behind her.
She met Jackson’s eyes. Met them properly, not letting herself sink in but keeping a distance that let her ask a silent question that didn’t need any shifter telepathy, and see his answer.
He nodded and her heart fluttered. Everything felt old and new at the same time. Even this. Just looking at someone and letting herself be looked at back, instead of ducking and hiding.
With Jackson’s silent understanding giving her strength, she twisted around to find Flea.
Her owl bristled. But there he was, hunched over a good six feet away, all anxious gangling limbs and guilt and, most importantly, dark eyes.
He’s not a monster, she reminded herself, breathing easy, and he’s not here to hurt me. I should have known…
She bit her lip. She’d had all the information she needed to figure that it was Flea jumping out of the bush, not some stranger and not some monster from her nightmares. Her owl should have known that, too. It had all the same information he did. Including all the hundreds of times Flea and the others had crept nervously up to her and apologized for the effect their hellfire terror had on her.
“I’m sorry!” Flea blurted out as he saw she was looking at him.
“Just tell us what’s going on,” Jackson said, glancing at the lake and the dogs. The dog team had given up on anything interesting ever happening again, and were mostly lying down. At least Flea had had the sense to set the sled brake when he’d stopped the dog team, so they hadn’t gone anywhere.