by A. K. Morgen
“And you haven’t talked to him since?” I asked, stunned. I didn’t know any of this. Not even a hint of it.
“The last time I saw Dace was the day he graduated.” Dr. Michel folded his hands together on top of his desk. “We had dinner, and he hopped a bus that night. He still sends my partner birthday and Christmas cards every year, but no, Miss Jacobs, I haven’t seen him since.”
Poor Dace. And poor Dr. Michel.
“I’m sorry,” I said, incredibly sad for Dace and Dr. Michel.
Dr. Michel smiled kindly. “Don’t be, Miss Jacobs. Soren really did a number on Dace, and I was a reminder of a time best forgotten. I don’t blame him at all for not looking back. I’d have done the same. I have to admit I did wonder if he ever accepted what he was though. From the looks of things, he’s finally accomplished it.”
“He’s working on it,” I said softly. Dr. Michel’s story made my heart hurt. I wanted to wrap my arms around Dace and hug him. I think Freki wanted the same thing. A melancholy sigh whispered from the small hole in her prison.
Dr. Michel nodded. “That’s all we can expect, I suppose.” He shot me another smile and then sobered again. “But that’s not why you’re here today, is it?”
I didn’t fight the inevitable. He knew enough of the truth not to bother with evasive maneuvers, anyway. Instead, I did the only thing I could do. “No, it’s not,” I admitted.
Our hastily-erected cover story died a quick and painless death.
Dr. Michel’s gaze flitted to Ronan briefly, and then back to me. “Why don’t you start at the beginning?”
As expected, Dr. Michel didn’t have much to offer once we gave him a sketchy overview of the situation, but he promised to reach out to see if anyone in his circle knew anything of use. Ronan and I didn’t expect much to come of his promise, but I was grateful all the same. Maybe someone else would have more luck than we’d had thus far.
We thanked Dr. Michel for his time, and filed out of his office in silence. The late evening sun was a dying ball on the horizon, reflecting through the row of windows. Crisscrossed patterns of light tilted this way and that on the walls, a product of tree branches and clouds swaying with the wind.
I expected to feel deflated, leaving with little more on Sköll and Hati than we came with, but I didn’t. I felt… sad more than anything. Sad for Dace who lost touch with Dr. Michel because it was easier than facing constant memories of his father, and sad for Dr. Michel who never forgot the young shapeshifter he tried to help.
“What was your life like as a kid?” I asked Ronan, fastening my seatbelt into place as the Yukon rumbled to life.
Ronan tensed, but he didn’t seem caught off guard by the question. “Not like yours,” he said, easing out of the parking spot and taking a left out of the empty lot.
I frowned. “What does that mean?”
“My dad skipped town when I was three, and my mom worked two jobs until she started hitting the bottle,” he said, his mouth set in a grim line. “She dropped me off with my grandmother when I was seven and didn’t look back.”
“Oh,” I sighed. “I’m sorry.”
Ronan shrugged. “I didn’t have it as bad as Dace.”
“Did your grandma know about any of this?” I asked, settling back into my seat, exhausted. I hadn’t slept peacefully in longer than I cared to count. The lack of actual rest was beginning to catch up with me.
“Nope. I never told her.”
“Why not?”
Ronan tapped the brake and coasted through a yield sign. He cut his eyes in my direction for a moment. “Are you asking because you want to know about me or because you’re trying to make yourself feel better about Dace’s crap childhood?”
“I’m no―” I didn’t bother to finish the lie. I was trying to find some positive aspect of Dace’s childhood… some little kernel that made me feel better about the desolate way he grew up. It wasn’t fair to use Ronan’s sad situation to do that though. “I’m sorry.”
“Don’t be,” he said. “Dace had a hard life. I get the need to put it into perspective, but I can tell you all about my life as a kid and it won’t make his any less brutal. You grew up with an Apple Pie life. You’ll never understand what things were really like for him.”
“Doesn’t mean I can’t try.”
“No, it doesn’t, but if Dace wanted you to understand, he would have told you. Sometimes, you have to put the past behind you and move on. Sometimes, people have to let you do that.”
I felt suitably chastised, but I refused to apologize for the way I was raised, even if Ronan made me feel like I should. Besides, I think maybe he was right. Dace didn’t want to talk about his childhood, and I owed it to him to respect his wishes on that front.
“Are you hungry?” Ronan asked a few minutes later.
“No.”
I sat quietly until we arrived at our hotel, listening to the crunch of the road beneath the Yukon’s tires and the hum of the heater. Ronan didn’t say anything else either. When he pulled into the parking lot, I yawned loudly.
“We’ll stay here tonight,” he said, sliding the key from the ignition.
I sat upright with a frown. “We need to get on the road. We can drive to Downers Grove in four hours!”
“I know, but I’d rather not have to explain to your boyfriend why you’re sick from exhaustion.”
I opened my mouth to argue and yawned again.
Ronan shot me an “I told you so” look.
“Fine,” I muttered, reaching for the door handle. “But we’re leaving as soon as we sleep for a few hours.”
“Fine.”
I climbed from the Yukon, missing Chelle desperately. Talking to her was so much nicer than talking to Ronan. She wasn’t a pain in the―I stopped abruptly. “Have you heard from Gage since this morning?”
“No.”
I fished in my pocket for my cellphone. No missed calls.
“Chelle hasn’t called again either,” I said, frowning.
“Call her.”
I scrolled through my contacts for her number and pressed dial. The call went straight to voicemail. I hung up and dialed Gage, still frowning.
“Voicemail,” I muttered when his phone kicked me straight over to his voicemail, too.
“They’re probably out of the service area,” Ronan suggested, circling around the Yukon toward me. He couldn’t quite hide the worried gleam in his dark eyes though. They should have called one of us by now.
I hesitated with my finger hovering over my phone screen for a moment, unsure if I should call Dace or not. I didn’t want to worry him unnecessarily, but… I dialed his number, not even bothering to tell myself I wanted only to check on Chelle. The desire to hear Dace’s voice again overwhelmed me.
“Arionna,” he said, picking up halfway through the first ring.
His voice filled me with warmth. I closed my eyes for a moment, letting the silky, soft way he said my name wash through me.
God, I missed him.
“Hey,” I said, cradling the phone to my ear. “What are you doing?”
Ronan rolled his eyes as if to tell me I was such a girl.
I stuck my tongue out at him.
“Waiting for Chelle and Gage to get here,” Dace said.
“Have you talked to them this afternoon?”
“Yeah, they should be here within the hour.”
I breathed a sigh of relief. “That’s good. I wasn’t sure.”
Fuki howled from the room above. His claws scraped against the door.
Uh-oh.
I looked to Ronan.
“Yeah, I got it,” he said, turning to jog up the stairs.
“She’s safe, love,” Dace murmured. “I promise.”
Love. I leaned my head back, looked up at the darkening sky, and let that word work its way through me. Knots unfurled, loosening a little of the ice shards still clinging to my heart. Something else in there tightened and twisted, reminding me of how wide the chasm between us had gr
own.
Neither of us said anything. Silence stretched, as awkward and painful as it was before I left. I let my gaze wander from place to place, unsure what to say. Aside from Ronan’s Yukon, the only other car in the lot had seen better days. So had the motel, for that matter. The paint around the trim was faded and chipped. The white stucco was dirty and grey. Rust ran the length of the balcony railing.
Life on the lam wasn’t exactly a luxury condo type of deal.
“Arionna?” Dace said.
“We talked to Dr. Michel today,” I said at the exact same time, watching as Ronan used the key card to open my door.
Fuki raced out and bolted down the stairs.
I shuffled to the side before he could knock me over in his mad dash to Nature’s restroom.
He barely spared me a glance before he darted around the side of the building and out of sight.
“Crap,” I muttered and hurried after him.
“What’s wrong?” Dace asked.
“Fuki took off.” I rounded the building in time to see his tail vanishing into a thicket on the far side of the little field. A small cloud of birds shot into the sky, their wings pumping hard to get them out of the danger zone.
One little blackbird wasn’t fast enough.
Fuki leapt, his jaws closing around the tip of the bird’s wing.
The small bird chirped and tried to flit away from Fuki.
Fuki let him go… right up until the blackbird tried to leap into the air again, anyway. When he tried to fly away, Fuki swatted him back down to the ground.
The bird gave up his flight attempts and hopped across the field.
Fuki yipped, dancing in a circle around the tiny animal.
I wasn’t sure if he was playing with the bird or preparing to eat it.
“He’s not used to being cooped up,” Dace said, his voice soft.
“I know.”
“Buka misses him.’’
The bird chirped loudly, making his discontent clear.
“He misses her, too,” I sighed, watching Fuki chase after the bird. “What are we going to do with him, Dace? He wasn’t meant to be domesticated. He needs room to run and play and be a wolf.”
“I know, but he doesn’t have that option now. He’ll be okay.”
“I hope so,” I said.
Heavy footsteps sounded behind me.
Ronan rounded the corner.
“He’s over here,” I told him, pointing toward the wolf.
Ronan’s eyes narrowed, a look of disgust crossing his face when he caught sight of the little wolf chasing after the bird. He didn’t comment or chastise Fuki, though. He merely crossed the field toward him.
Fuki glanced up when Ronan’s shadow passed over him.
“Leave the bird alone.”
Fuki chuffed, still dancing around the frightened animal.
The bird squawked his fear.
“Enough, Fuki,” Ronan said, stepping between the wolf and the blackbird.
Fuki whined, the sound uncertain, but he stopped and sat back on his haunches.
Ronan knelt down and picked up the wounded animal. He murmured something, but I couldn’t hear what. Whatever it was seemed to calm to the bird. It stopped chirping, not even struggling in Ronan’s hands.
Ronan said something else, glancing down at Fuki.
Fuki lowered himself to the ground with another small whine.
Ronan ran a hand over the bird’s wing, checking for breaks, before opening his hands and letting it go. Fuki stared forlornly up as the little bird hovered in the air above Ronan’s head, and then took off, flying after its flock.
Ronan watched it for a minute, before reaching down to pat Fuki’s head. “Good boy.”
Fuki thumped his tail on the ground, and then trotted away to sniff at a clump of mud. Ronan stepped back, keeping a watchful eye on the wolf as the animal hiked his leg and peed on the dirt clod.
“Wow.” I shook my head, impressed by Ronan’s patience with Fuki.
“What?” Dace asked.
“Fuki caught a bird, and Ronan rescued it.”
“Oh.” A pause. “I bet Ronan loved doing that.” Dace sounded pleased by the prospect of Fuki ruining Ronan’s day.
“Dace, behave.”
“Not likely,” he snorted.
“Ronan isn’t that bad.”
“Oh?” Dace said, his disbelief coming through loud and clear.
“He’s been… very helpful.” I sounded like my dad, but it was true.
Ronan kept surprising me. Just when I thought I’d gotten to know him a little, he did something totally unexpected, like rescue a blackbird from Fuki or stick up for Dace even though he didn’t like him. The more time I spent around Ronan though, the more I began to understand how well he and Dani had complimented one another. He’d kept her grounded, and she’d kept him human.
It wasn’t fair that Sköll and Hati had taken her from him.
“Oh?” Dace said again.
I rolled my eyes at his territorial tone. “I like him, Dace. He’s a good guy who got dealt a crappy hand like the rest of us. You should cut him some slack. He’s earned it.”
“I know.” Dace sighed into the phone. “But making his life miserable is easier than admitting the truth.”
“What truth?” I frowned.
“That I’m jealous as hell he’s with you right now and I’m not.”
“It’s not like that.” Ronan would never be more than an odd, infuriating, and actually kind of decent friend to me. I highly doubted he ever considered trying to be more than that. Even if Dace and I were struggling, Ronan still knew how I felt about Dace.
Dace had nothing to be jealous about.
“I know,” Dace said. “I trust you. And, I’ll never admit it to him, but I trust him with you. I just wish it was me there with you. Do―hell,” he cursed, “will you ever be able to forgive me?”
I wanted to tell him I’d already forgiven him. That I’d never been mad at him. But… that wasn’t true.
“You hurt me,” I whispered.
“I know I did.”
I heard the shame in his voice, but I didn’t try to soothe him.
“Watching you die… knowing that might happen again… I thought, no, I know I can’t face that again. But watching you get in Ronan’s car and drive away, knowing I put that look on your face, that I hurt you like that… I don’t want to be the person you saw me becoming either, Arionna.”
He watched me leave? I hadn’t known that.
“I know that too,” I whispered, slipping back around the side of the building for a little privacy. I leaned back against the side of the wall, and stared up.
“Is there still a chance for us?”
Was there?
“I don’t know.” Saying that out loud hurt. A lot. But Ronan was right. I might not have asked for the responsibility given to me by Odin, but protecting our friends was my responsibility and I couldn’t forget that because Dace had. Chelle and Beth, Ronan and the wolves, even Dace’s shifters deserved more than that from one of us at least. If Dace couldn’t put them first, I had to. Everything else, including our relationship, couldn’t take priority anymore.
“Do―do you still love me?” Dace asked.
I closed my eyes, the defeat in his voice almost enough to crack me wide open. “You know I do.”
“Then what’s the problem? Talk to me, please.”
“You’re haunting me,” I admitted, scuffing the toe of my shoe against the cracked pavement beneath my feet. “I see you everywhere. I think about you all the time. I can’t sleep because you aren’t here, Dace, but…” I didn’t know how to explain the way I felt. The way it hurt when he forced me to walk away, and the defeat when he didn’t try to stop me. The constant ache I felt since I’d left, and the agony of completely falling apart and then having to put myself back together piece by piece. And the awful realization that I had to let him go because I had to look out for the people who needed him, the ones he’d stopp
ed thinking about because of me.
How do you explain the way it feels to lose yourself?
How do you describe how weak and cowardly you feel because the person who’s supposed to help you, the one who’s supposed to believe in you, and make you feel strong and confident… just didn’t? I needed Dace to let me in, to let me help him, but he hadn’t. He gave up on himself, and he gave up on me, too.
“I don’t know how to keep fighting for you when you won’t even fight for yourself,” I whispered. My throat ached, unshed tears threatening to choke me. I blinked rapidly, trying to bring the pavement back into focus. I didn’t want to cry anymore.
“You’re haunting me, too,” he said. “Every time I close my eyes, I see you. I see that look on your face when I told you to leave, and I remember I put it there. I did that to you, and I’m so fucking sorry.” His voice broke. “That I made you think, for even a minute, that I didn’t want you here… I’m sorry, Arionna. I’m so damn sorry.”
I sniffled.
“I know I messed up, but I’m trying to fix it. I promise you, I am,” he whispered.
I believed him.
How could I not when every beat of my heart still whispered his name?
“I know you are.” I took a deep breath. “But I don’t know if it’s enough anymore, Dace.”
“Don’t say that. Don’t give up on me, love. Please.”
“I’m not,” I said, “I’m not giving up, but I can’t do this right now. We can’t do this right now. Too many people are counting on us. We can’t keep being selfish. It’s not fair.”
I expected him to argue with me, maybe because he always argued with me, but he didn’t. “You’re right,” he said, regretfully. “I know you’re right. But I don’t want this to be over, love.”
“Me either,” I whispered. “I just need time.”
Dace sighed.
The sun dipped below the horizon, giving in to the encroaching dark.
“How did things go with Dr. Michel?” he asked.