We sit and we wait. No matter how hard I try, I can’t seem to focus on the television, too occupied with trying to shove my past back down into its little box. Over and over, I keep chanting in my head that it’s just a house—a stupid empty house—but my past keeps popping right back up like a jack-in-the-box from hell.
My aunt joins us in the lounge between calls and asks for the umpteenth time if I’m sure I want to do this. Each time she asks, more worry clouds her eyes. Every time I assure her that I do, which strangely bolsters my resolve. My stubbornness overriding my fear.
After sitting for about twenty minutes, I suddenly feel a wave of stifled panic which, for once, isn’t coming from me. Rising from the couch, I look out the window and watch Connor get out of the passenger side of his Tahoe. His face is carefully blank as he retrieves his duffle from the back seat, but thanks to the oath, his feelings are no longer a mystery to me. He still is though. Call it cowardice, but I decided to wait until after this trip to talk to him about where we stand. Part of me needs him to see where I came from, walk the halls of my torment, before I hear his answer on what we mean to each other.
Connor talks with Sam for a moment, last minute instructions if the way Sam nods her head is any indication, then she gets back in the car and drives away. His eyes meet mine through the glass window, as if he knew I was watching him. For a moment, he simply holds my gaze, talking to me without words. He uses his feelings to confess his fears that I don’t readily understand, while assuring me that I’m not the cause. Both a resolve and relief that he’s by my side.
Shock and annoyance ring in equal measures inside me as I realize he knows I can sense his feelings. He’s known all along, the jerk! I glare at him, and he shrugs, because of course he does.
My face contorts to let him know that we’re so talking about this later, and he’ll have a whole lot of explaining to do.
He ducks his head, his acknowledgement that I’m displeased, then walks into the lounge.
Though we had a full-blown, nonverbal discussion, it only took a few seconds in actual time, so no one caught the exchange. As annoyed as I am, I wonder if this empathy ability is normal for shifters, and if the reason Connor doesn’t feel the need to speak has more to do with this exchange of emotions than a singular quirk of his. Then I remember Sam is more than able to articulate herself, having no issue sharing her full thoughts at any given moment, which blows my theory out of the water.
Felix stands and smiles up at Connor, though disappointment still hangs from his shoulders. It makes me want to punch Donovan and Kaleb, or magic them in the air and leave them there, except they could probably fly back down.
“Thanks for coming,” Felix says to Connor, then his gaze encompasses us all. “All of you. Thank you for doing this.”
“You’re the first person to take on the craziness that is being my friend,” I reply with a wobbly smile. “Least I can do is bring you back from the dead.”
“The least you could do, huh?” he scoffs, rubbing the back of his neck while shaking his head.
“There have to be some perks to being a friend of a super powerful witch,” I tease with a shrug, then stuff my hands into my back pockets, grateful that I have new jeans that are loose enough to allow it.
My gaze bounces to Nolan. I’m always nervous of his reactions when I talk about my magic, and he still doesn’t know the full scope of my power. Then again, I can’t tell where ‘possibly able to make a completely new species’ sits on the scale compared to ‘can bring the dead back to life.’ Is there a point where understanding the range of my power no longer matters and it simply falls under the category of ‘insanely powerful. Do not fuck with?’
It appears Nolan wasn’t paying attention, since his focus is on Connor. He must have asked him something while I was talking to Felix, because Connor releases a deep sigh, with hints of shame coloring his feelings, and nods his head.
“Don’t worry about it, dude,” Nolan insists, patting Connor on the back. “It’s not a big deal.”
Connor huffs, drops his duffle on the ground, and starts unbuttoning his shirt, while Nolan moves to close the blinds. Felix and I quickly spin to face the wall, my heart thundering in my chest.
It’s not funny! I mentally rant when I feel the thread of amusement snaking from Connor into me.Just because shifters are all ‘what’s clothes?’ doesn’t mean I’m ready to see him in…all his glory or whatever.
“I think we missed something,” Felix quips with an awkward chuckle. Over his shoulder, he adds, “What did I say about warning a guy first? I’d like to continue my record of having not seen your junk. Already blew it with Nolan.”
“What did you expect poofing over on a Saturday night? Learned your lesson, didn’t you?” Nolan teases from his place near the windows, conjuring images I’d rather not have in my head.
“Always poof in with my eyes closed?” Felix remarks good-naturedly. Considering the eyeful he got on Nolan’s birthday, I don’t think he’s really learned that lesson.
I’m not proud of how my hands curl into fists and yeah, okay, that’s definitely jealousy swimming in my gut. Which is completely stupid since I already have enough boy troubles with Connor and Kaleb…and possibly Felix too? He did seem really upset about the whole feeding thing. Soon, he’ll also be very much alive…and touchable.
My entire body flushes as awareness creeps along my skin, listening to what definitely sounds like a zipper. Memories one right after the other barrel through my mind. The feeling of Connor’s kisses running slowly up my stomach. The harsh claim of Kaleb’s mouth against mine. The sweet sensation of slow dancing in Felix’s arms. Followed by the ones I really should ignore. Nolan’s hands all over me as he feasts from my body. Donovan’s well orchestrated touches that set me ablaze.
I’m so very, very screwed.
A cold nose bumps my arm with a soft whine. Beside me is a wolf the size of a small pony with rich shades of brown coloring his fur. I pet Wolf Connor, running my hand along his neck, my fingers digging into his thick fur. He sighs contentedly, leaning heavily against my hip.
“This is the first time Connor will leave Twin Cedar Pass,” Nolan explains, dipping his hands into his front pockets. “I thought he might feel better as his wolf.”
“You’re a good friend,” I murmur, which Nolan shrugs off, and then clumsily folds Connor’s clothes into his duffle.
Bits of my insecurity ebb away, appreciating that being Nolan’s friend is an honor unto itself, and he’s worth the patience of getting to know. His relationship with Gina fundamentally changed him, so I can’t hold our relationship to the same gauge as his more innocent time with her.
As we file out of the lounge and Nolan goes on to explain that the passenger “Connor” on the manifest is actually the name of my dog, I watch the road for any sign of Donovan and Kaleb. I try not to blame them for their absence. People are complicated, and what I’m asking isn’t easy.
Nolan returns with a quirk to his lips, while the staff for the flight nervously stares at Connor from their positions near the plane, and he announces, “Everything is ready. Felix, you should be safe to poof over in about four hours, give or take. I don’t know what the drive time to Callie’s…the house is going to take.”
