“Is Wolfman okay, Mommy?”
Turning to look at her, I say without a smile. “Yes. But we won’t be seeing him again. Okay?”
“Why?” she asks.
“Because we won’t,” I croak. “I love you guys. Try to sleep.”
A light rap on the front door nearly makes me jump out of my skin. It’s probably Dr. Peters. Only he would knock that lightly and he did look like he wasn’t going anywhere when he dropped us off. I have a feeling he’s watching over us outside, and it is comforting.
I peek out the eyehole and my jaw drops. It’s Xavier out there.
Xavier
“What’d she say?” I ask War. We’re both standing by the broken streetlamp. Those Russians busted this light, fucking pricks. If I wasn’t so preoccupied I would have found the broken glass suspicious.
“Not much. She was curious if it hurts when we change.”
I nod, staring at her apartment window. “Fuck me. I don’t know how to…”
“Yeah, this isn’t going to be fun.”
I glance to his grim face. “No shit, War. Really?”
He shoves his hands in his pockets, looking at the apartment. “I’m just saying, she’s no victim anymore. She took down fucking Alexander Kruglov.” He pauses and glances to me with meaning. “And she saved your life.”
A frown chips its way deeper into my brow. “She’s my mate. We’re destined. She had to. But that doesn’t mean she’s going to forgive me. And she can always turn away and have a life without me if she wants that.”
Leaving him there, I head over. I’m not one to procrastinate. Better to get things done and let the shit fall where it lands.
Since I don’t want to wake the kids, I knock lightly. I hear her footsteps and then I hear something else — her heartbeat. It’s picking up speed. So is mine. I can finally hear her heartbeat. I know why, too. Because I’m not fighting it anymore. I know who she is. I know she’s mine. I was never one to believe in love. I resisted it. I’d never felt it before. The connection with Emily is so strong that I blocked out the very heart of it. Literally. Hers.
What have I done? How do I fix this?
“You have balls, I’ll give you that,” she mutters, staring at me with her hand on the door. She could slam it in my face any moment and I wouldn’t blame her.
“Emily,” I begin.
“Just stop. How dare you.” She steps in the hall and closes the door so her children can’t hear. Michael. Sofia. I want to know how they’re doing. If they’re alright. I’m ready to raise those kids as my own. “The things you’ve done knowing what you know! How could you? How could you use me like that?”
I’m very aware that Sandra is listening. A third heartbeat just joined us. “Hold on a second.” I pull out my phone and dial War. “Still outside?”
“Yeah. I had to know how it went.”
“Can you come up here and watch the kids?”
“What?” Emily objects, but I talk over her.
“I want to talk to Emily privately. It’ll just be ten minutes. That’s all.”
“You got it,” he says and hangs up.
“I’m not going anywhere with you.”
“How about the roof? Can you handle the roof for ten minutes? You can really ream me there, no one to wake up. You can be as loud as you want.”
She glares at me, crossing her arms. “Fine.”
Howard dashes up the stairs and nods to us. “Hey.”
“Thanks, buddy.” I hold out my arm indicating Ladies First. Emily rolls her eyes, reaches down for a pair of flip flops by the door, slips them on, and storms off to the staircase.
War and I exchange a look and he goes in to babysit. I’m just hoping it’s not the last time he’ll be able to do that favor for me. I have to get her to understand. I have to have this woman. She’s mine. I love her. I will always love only her. If I have to live a life where she’s alive but not with me, it will be the most miserable existence.
We will both wilt. We will never truly be happy.
I have to call this woman wife.
Xavier
“Where’d you get those clothes?” she points at my suit, the skyline of Chicago lit up behind her. Her hair is blowing in the breeze and she smells like home. It’s torture. All I want to do is pull her into my arms and claim her.
But I can’t do that.
“You know where I got them. I didn’t have time to go home.”
“You’re all cut up. You need to see a doctor,” she says as if she’s damning me to hell. That’s her tone. Man is she angry with me.
“War will take care of all that. We heal fast.”
“You HEAL fast. What the hell? Like vampires or something?”
“Or something. We’re not as quick.”
She blinks at me. A big gust of wind picks up her long, almost-black hair. She pushes it away and holds it from her face as her eyes cut into my soul. “So they’re real, too? Is that what you’re telling me.”
“Maybe. I’ve never seen one. But we don’t heal like the movies say vampires do. We’re just quicker than humans, that’s all.” It’s so fucking weird to talk about this with someone. I guess this is what War and Curragh went through. I hate it, but there’s a freeing side to it as well. No more secrets. I like that. “Say what you wanna say. Anything you want to ask me. I’ll never lie to you again.”
“So you admit that you lied.”
“Yes. I did. I had to.”
Her eyes go wide and she paces in a circle before demanding, “You HAD to???!! You had to kill my husband and then fuck me?! Did you really have to do that? Was that a mandatory thing for your life, huh? Really?!!”
My gut tightens and my jaw ticks. I pace away from her, feeling all of the pain of what has happened. She’s right. I knew how awful I was for being with her. Walking back to face her, I say, “Fate dealt us a terrible hand.”
“Fate? How is this fate?”
“You and I are fate. You and I are meant to be together.”
“And Sam was in the way?” she croaks with disgust.
“No! That’s not what I meant. He was and he wasn’t. I didn’t know you then. I was just doing what we do.” She stares at me, uncomprehending. “We help people. He was hurting you. Hurting the kids. Draik fucked…dated a woman in this building. He was here. Heard Sam throwing you around.” My chest twists with rage at the mere mention of it. Thinking of anyone using Emily as a rag doll makes me violent. “We paid attention. We were just supposed to scare him into stopping. Leaving. So you could have a new life. But I got carried away when I did it. I couldn’t help it. When it comes to you I am ferociously protective and things got out of hand. I didn’t mean to kill him. The goal was to help you and the kids. That’s it. Because that’s what we do. I never meant to fall in love with you. That was fate. You and I are fate.”
She’s staring at me with shock and sadness. She wants to be angry, but what I’ve just said — all of it — has cut past the rage all the way down to the hurt. She’s crushed by the reality.
How do you forgive this?
“I’m sorry, Xavier. It’s just too awful. He was terrible but no one deserves to die.”
“Bullshit.”
Her eyes go wide and the anger returns. But that’s okay because I’m fucking pissed now.
“Excuse me? Bullshit?”
“Yeah, Emily. Bullshit. Some motherfuckers deserve to be six feet under. The world is better off without them. No one is going to miss Sam Foster. Not even his bartenders.”
She blinks at me. Her sense of decency that’s been pounded into her by a society, whose rules are fine for the most part and shitty for the other, is at war in her heart. I see the battle. I know it well. “I can’t believe that.”
“Really? You know what he was doing to Sofia? How he visited her late at night after you were asleep? And do you know Michael knows? Why do you think he’s so protective of her?”
Emily’s mouth falls open and I hear her heart stop fo
r a second. Fuck. She had no idea. And now I’m the messenger. No one loves the messenger.
“You’re wrong. He couldn’t!” Tears spring to her beautiful eyes.
“I wish it never happened. That I never had to tell you this, but he did. Draik heard it. That’s when we made the choice. Knew that it had to stop. And so let me repeat myself so you never have to second-guess this again. Sam Foster was a fucking perverted monster who had to die. And I’m glad I’m the one who did it.”
Emily
My head. It’s reeling. I can’t stop crying. Memories of Sofia telling me she didn’t want him coming home after she slept haunt me. I always thought she wanted him home earlier so that she could see him, but she meant she didn’t want him drunk and coming into her room.
Oh dear God.
But you don’t protect me, Mommy.
Oh dear God.
“I have to go,” I croak, running to the stairs. “I have to be with my daughter.” My chest is heaving. I’m faint and dizzy with anguish. How could Sam touch my little baby? And how come I didn’t protect her from him?
Dr. Peters is at the door as I walk up. He opens it, sees my face and steps aside.
“Leave,” I tell him, without looking back. Then I remember Xavier. Turning to see him standing with his friend, I say, “Go. Both of you. Don’t come back. Leave us alone.”
Xavier watches me. What must he think of me? I am so ashamed and disgusted and embarrassed. He must think I’m a terrible mother. Because right now that’s what I’m thinking. I can’t face him — either of them. They knew and I didn’t. “Go!”
I walk over, push on his chest until he steps back into the hall.
“Emily.”
“Don’t.” Tears stream down my face. “Please. Just go.” I shut the door and lock it, racing to my children’s room. They are sleeping, and I stand in the door, sobbing silently.
“Emmy, I found you a good one.” Marisol hands me a cup of tea. The sun is shining through the windows of my kitchen.
“What did you tell them? Who did you ask?”
“I said it was for my son.”
“You don’t have a son.”
“Exactly.” She pours honey into her tea and glances to me. “Honey, I know you’re embarrassed, so I lied and took the heat. And it’s easier to call around and ask about these types of things when you pose as someone else. I told them my name was Louise Fletcher.”
“The nurse from that movie Dad loved?”
“Yup,” my sister smiles. “I got to be an actor for a day. So, this shrink is a woman, just like you wanted. She specializes in sexual abuse.”
Covering my face with my hands, I whisper, “Fuck.”
“I know it’s hard, Emmy. I can’t imagine what you’re feeling right now, what you’re going through. But I’m here and I will help you get through this. All you guys.”
Sniffling, I reach for a tissue box. I’ve had to keep these near me at all times. My eyes are constantly red, my nose is beginning to chap. “I’m going to have to talk to this woman and confess that I didn’t protect my daughter.”
Marisol waits for me to wipe my eyes. She leans over the counter and touches my arm. “I know you’re ashamed but can I tell you something?” Reluctantly I nod. “The only person to be ashamed when it comes to sexual abuse or abuse of any kind, is the attacker. They should be ashamed. The victim always feels shame but that makes no sense. They didn’t do anything! They didn’t ask for it! They didn’t make that person into a monster. Sam was a monster already. You didn’t make him violent. Sofia didn’t make him do those things. He did them. He should feel ashamed. Only him.” She searches my eyes. “Understand? It makes no sense that victims feel shame when it was never their fault and they did not sign up for that cruelty.”
There is so much stigma with abuse and really…why? You were beaten, attacked, raped, why must you be ashamed, too? Someone attacks you, you defend yourself. But that you were attacked — there is no reason to feel shame for that. You didn’t know it was coming. You weren’t given the power to fight. And sometimes, like with Sofia, you didn’t know you could. When an adult says things to a child, the child thinks it’s true. A lot of times it’s a fucking lie.
The kids are at school. Marisol flew out the second I told her what happened. Just about Sam. Not the wolves. She’d think I really lost my top if I told her about that.
“Okay, so what do I do?”
“There’s an appointment tomorrow. She had a cancellation so I think it might be fate.”
“Fate,” I whisper, remembering Xavier’s words: Fate dealt us a terrible hand. “I don’t know if I’m a fan.”
“I have to believe you guys are gonna catch a break sooner or later. You go and see if you like her. I’ll go with you.”
“Thanks Mare. I really appreciate this.”
“Anything for my little bug,” she smiles, kindness in her green eyes. “And my teenage narcissists can take care of themselves for a little while. Might teach them some responsibility. You haven’t told me about the guy.”
“Oh, that’s over,” I whisper, heart shutting down at the mention of Xavier. I saw him the other night, standing outside. We locked eyes. Neither of us said anything. I know he was checking on us, to make sure we were safe. I’m sure they’ve been watching around the clock, if I admit what I really think.
But I can’t talk to him. Not yet. Maybe not ever. I just can’t.
“Well, that’s too bad. Did he just disappear and never call again or something?”
No, he killed Sam. And he’s a wolf. And…
“Something like that,” I whisper before taking a sip of tea. “There are bigger things to worry about right now. I want to make sure my children see a therapist and start healing. I need to spend time with them right now. A man just clouds things. You know?”
“Boy, do I?” she laughs with sarcasm. “Boy, do I.”
Forcing a small smile, I look away from her to the window. A robin lands on a green leaf-covered branch and starts to sing. It’s funny how when you’re hurting, beauty loses its ability to affect you. I love birds but I feel nothing as I watch it tweet its little heart out, fanning its wings at one point like it’s about to fly off, but doesn’t. Then it sings some more but the tune can’t cut through my fog. It will take more than that.
Even though I’m in love with Xavier, I can’t be anything but a mom right now. I need to heal, too. I need to find the strength in myself to face that therapist and tell her what I’ve learned. I will sit and hear from my daughter’s lips what she went through, and I will have to be strong for that. I will have to hold her hand and tell her she is lovable and it wasn’t her fault. I will show her every day how much I care and respect her, and I will support Michael in his need to defend her. I will read books on raising boys into men, and I will do my very best.
I moved too fast in sleeping with Xavier after Sam died. I was reaching for happiness, and I am paying for that now. There is a hollow place in me that aches for Xavier and the words of love he gave me, but I have nothing to give and I don’t want to take.
I want to be a better woman. A better mother. That’s all I will spend my time on for as long as it takes to get my self-respect back.
Xavier
“Well?” Curragh asks as I walk into the loft after eleven at night.
“Her sister’s still there. She’s taking care of her, so that’s good.” I walk to the cabinet where the booze is kept. “Why are you here?”
“Why do you think I’m here?”
“He’s here for me,” Draik crows from his mattress.
I pour some Bookers Bourbon into a glass and put the bottle back where I found it. “I thought you were sleeping,” I mutter to Draik. “Fucking pussy.”
He chuckles. “Oh right. I get tortured. I get tortured again. Then I get shot. But I’m a pussy for getting a little shut-eye after we took out the Russian mafia?”
“That’s right,” I dryly say. They know I’m not being serious
, even if there is no humor in my voice. “She’s not taking my calls. Or texts.”
“Does she know you’re watching over them?” Curragh asks from the couch.
I walk up, shrug and plop down onto one of the chairs. “She saw me one night. Didn’t say anything. Doesn’t matter. I’m going to be watching over her from here on out even if she never knows it.”
Drake’s got his hands under his head as he lays on his back, looking at me from the pillow. “I’m sorry, X.”
“Yeah,” I mutter, downing my drink and looking at the emptiness of the glass. It’s how I feel. Fucking empty without that family. “I can’t even eat burgers anymore.”
“That’ll pass,” Curragh offers in his deep baritone.
“I doubt it. I should’ve brought the bottle with me.”
“I’ll get it.”
Sighing I put my head in my hands and close my eyes. There is nothing without love. I know that now. I don’t agree with the adage: It’s better to have loved and lost than to never have loved before. What a crock.
Curragh takes the glass from my hand and I look up to see him filling it. He fills his own. “Draik?”
“Nah. I’m going to go back to sleep. I’m exhausted.” He clasps his hands over his ribcage and closes his eyes.
Jealous he can sleep. Haven’t been sleeping at all.
I stare at my glass as Curragh sits on the couch. “You came to check on me.”
“Yep. And Kara knows I won’t be home soon.”
“You’re gonna just stare at me?”
“I’m going to just sit with you,” he says, looking me in the eye.
I bend over and lay my head in my hands again. After about an hour, I mutter, “Thank you.”
Xavier
Seven months, one week and three days later.
Werewolves of Chicago: Xavier Page 15