He doesn’t say anything, just stares at the floor, his jaw tight.
“I thought you’d hate me forever,” I continue, gaining a little strength. “Then you left. You moved fucking towns just to heal. And I let you go. I told myself it was for the best, that we were toxic for each other. And now… now here you are. You were never supposed to come back. I never thought… fuck. I didn’t think the lie was going to be a whole thing, and then it got complicated…and…”
He finally looks up, his eyes blazing. “Why? Why would you do that? Why would you tell anyone that we were together?”
I panic, the words spilling out in a desperate flood. “Because I was scared!” I blurt out. “People already assumed we were together after… after you marked me. I should have corrected them. I should have told everyone it wasn’t what they thought.” I shake my head, my chest tightening. “But I had just gotten the job at the apothecary, and I was screwing up. Everything Itouched seemed to turn to dust. I was so new, so inexperienced. And I was still an unbonded Omega, Griff. I was terrified that if June and August found out, they’d think I was unstable, that my magic was erratic, that I couldn’t be trusted. I know now June would have understood, but back then… I panicked. The lie was already out there, and every day that passed it became harder to take it back. So I let people believe it. Then I kept letting them believe it because I didn’t know how to undo it.”
He stares at me, unreadable. “Everyone?” he asks. “Does everyone in this town think that?”
I nod, feeling a fresh wave of shame wash over me. “Everyone but Amara. I could never lie to her.”
“Fuck,” he says, the word a quiet explosion in the small room. “Fuck.”
“I’m sorry,” I whisper, tears welling in my eyes. “I’m so, so sorry. I just… I didn’t know what else to do.”
“Fuck,” he repeats, standing up again, pacing the small space between the sofa and the armchair.
“Griffin…”
“Do you have any idea what this feels like? I tried to get over you, Caroline. I really did. I went to Chicago, I dated other people, I threw myself into my work. And I was doing it. I was moving on. I was so sure I had… and now I’m here. And this lie, it’s like it’s pulling me back in, erasing everything I worked for.”
He stops pacing and turns to face me, his eyes wild with frustration. “I asked someone out tonight. A woman from the bookstore. And all I could think about was what people would say. That I was cheating on you. That I was some kind of asshole.”
A hot, ugly twist of jealousy coils in my stomach at the thought of him with someone else, of his hand on another woman’s back, his smile directed at someone new. I push it down hard. I have no right to feel this way. None at all.
“I’ll fix it. I’ll tell everyone the truth. I’ll fix it.”
“How?” he asks, throwing his hands up in the air. “How are you going to fix this? You can’t just send out a town-wide announcement. ‘Hey everyone, remember that lie I’ve been telling for three years? Well, surprise! It’s not true!”
“I don’t know,” I admit, my shoulders slumping in defeat. “But I’ll think of something.”
“This isn’t just about us, Caroline. This is about my career. I’m working toward being a lieutenant. This… this could taint my image. They could see me as dishonest, as someone who can’t be trusted.”
“I hadn’t thought of it like that,” I say, and it’s the truth. I was so wrapped up in my own fears, my own insecurities, that I never once considered the real-world consequences for him.
“You never think about me!” he shouts, the words a sudden, sharp crack in the tension. It’s a culmination of all his anger, all his hurt, all his frustration, and it hits me like a physical blow.
He immediately looks horrified, his shoulders slumping. “I’m sorry,” he says, his voice soft now, filled with regret. “I didn’t mean that.”
“Don’t you know you did?” I ask. “Don’t you know that’s exactly what you meant?”
He doesn’t answer, just sinks onto the sofa beside me. The space between us feels charged, electric with all the words we haven’t said, all the feelings we’ve tried to suppress. He reaches for me, his hand outstretched, his fingers brushing against my arm.
And that’s when Thistle strikes.
He leaps onto the sofa between us, his back arched, his fur on end. A hiss rips from his throat, his eyes narrowed to slits. He’s not just warning Griffin away; he’s protecting me, in his own fierce, feline way.
Griffin pulls his hand back as if he’s been burned. “Fuck,” he says, the word barely a whisper. “You should have told me.”
And I know, with a certainty that settles deep in my bones, that he’s right. I should have.
I fucked everything up.
Weather Ward:
Hang a bell in a window. It rings when storms approach.
Her lip starts to tremble, a slight quiver that’s more devastating than any sob could be. I watch it, mesmerized by that small sign of her crumbling composure. It’s always been this way with her. She tries so hard to be strong, to be put together, but I’ve always been able to see the cracks.
