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“What’s happened?”
“I was going through your clothes. I thought I would wash them for you, and found this in your pocket.” She held out the damned letter he’d been putting off giving her.
His heart dropped to the barn floor. She’d never been meant to see the letter until she was stronger, and he was ready. “I can explain—”
“Please do explain how you knew my uncle! And then explain how you knew he was dead and didn’t tell me!” She flung the letter at him and stormed out of the barn.
Leaving the letter and the tragic news it bore on the dirt floor, he rushed after her. Sobbing trailed her flight, and the sound of her quiet agony tore at him.
“I didn’t know he was your uncle. Not until you told me his name right after Wyatt shot you. Then it never seemed the right time—Hey!” Caught up to her, he pulled on her hand to turn her around.
Eliza rounded on him, fire in her eyes. “You knew. You knew he was dead!”
“Please. Just give me a minute to explain.”
Arms crossed, she waited, tears streaming down her face.
To steady himself, he took a deep breath. “When I was a boy, I received a letter from a man I’d never heard of. Frederick Hall. In hindsight, probably it was you talking about me that led him to do me such a kindness. In his letter he said he had no children of his own, and was unable to give the ward in his care proper schooling due to complicated circumstances. Now I know he must’ve been talking about you. It was something he regretted, he said. He wanted to be my benefactor and send me to school. Whatever I wanted to study was fine, and he said paying for my education would help him to feel he made up for failing his ward. I didn’t understand when I was young, and didn’t ask too terribly many questions. He kept up with me through the years.” Garret frowned and closed his eyes, strained to remember it all. “Back before I was Turned, he would write to me, and I would reply.”
“So all those years I waited for letters from you, you were sending letters to my home, just not to me?”
“I didn’t know, Eliza. You have to believe me. I didn’t know.”
“The letter, Garret,” she reminded him, fury dripping from her tone.
“When you were hurt, I mean bad hurt, your family’s lawyer notified me that Frederick Hall died. A postal rider brought the letter to the ranch. He took ill and died of the fever. The sickness struck the whole house, from what I understand. How could I say you’d lost the last of your family? That you’d lost the last person who mattered? How could I put such a weight on you when I thought you would die?”
He took a step toward her, but she backed up, keeping the distance between them.
His hand hung in the air between them. Cold emptiness and her retreat stung him. “I did mean to give you the news, Eliza. I truly did. I just…”
“You just what?”
“I just wanted to wait for the right time.”
“That letter said there was a problem with the estate, and my aunt is requesting my presence for the reading of the will. They can’t proceed without me there. Dozens of people are waiting for me.”
Garret inhaled to make excuses, but there were none. “I didn’t want you to go.”
The admission hung there in the air between them. She didn’t answer him, and he couldn’t read the hurt in her eyes, so he continued. “I didn’t want you to leave. Not after all we’ve been through. It’s selfish, I know, but I never claimed to be any different. I wish your uncle was still alive, and I wish you weren’t being summoned back to your old life, and I wish…I wish…”
“What?”
“I wish you would choose to stay here. With me.”
She was quiet for a long time as she wiped her eyes and tried to regain her composure. “I understand you’re scared of me leaving, Garret. You’ve made it clear from the day I saw you again it was something you would take as a betrayal. You loathed my mother for leaving. I understand. But you betrayed me by keeping this secret.”
“Eliza, I’m sorry.”
“I’ll be on the first train out in the morning. I would assure you I’m coming back, but you wouldn’t believe me anyhow. I will write to you after I arrive in Boston.” She turned and strode to the house, leaving him to watch after her, skin tingling with the urge to Change just so he didn’t have to feel the infinite ache and confusion swirling in his chest.
Feeling was the worst part about being a man.
She was leaving. He’d heard the truth in her voice. It was a game, or a threat. She aimed to go.
She. Aimed. To go.
He knew how this would pan out—she would go back to the comfort of her city life, probably her uncle had left her money, and what reason would she have to come back here? All that was left was a ragtag Pack of werewolves, infinite danger, constant pain, hard work from sunup to sundown, and an oncoming battle with Clint Jennings that could very well result in her being hurt further.
