I look at him. The porch lamp catches him in profile, the old crooked smile tugging at one corner of his mouth, the same face I’ve known since we were sixteen. For a beat, the ground steadiesunder my feet. He’s standing here with me, and he has my back, the same as ever.
“There’s a game next week,” I say. “Crimson Rock at home. The press scrum after the final whistle’s going to be a circus. The publicist already told me they’re going to ambush me about Miranda the second I’m off the ice.”
Derek studies me.
“I want her there for it. She hasn’t set foot in a home game since Vanessa attacked her in the corridor, and she’s kept quiet about it, but I can feel her flinch whenever the arena comes up. It’s time she walked back into that building on her own legs.”
“I agree with you.”
“I’ll be tied up at least an hour after the final whistle, interviews, sponsorship handshakes, the whole locker room press cycle. Linda has Ethan at home. Could you take Miranda home for me and stay with her until I get back?”
“Consider it done.” He doesn’t hesitate.
“Thank you.”
“You don’t have to thank me for that.”
I rest my elbows on my knees and stare at my hands a moment. “Derek.”
“Yeah?”
“I’m glad you came home.”
He’s quiet a beat, looking out across the gravel. “I picked the right time to come,” he says, and there’s a softness in it I don’t hear from him often. “You needed someone.”
He pushes up to his feet and dusts off the back of his jeans, the unlit cigarette going back into his coat pocket.
“Go to her,” he says. “I’ll talk to your enforcers on my way out and make sure they understand the rotation tonight. Be with your mate.”
“You sure?”
“Go.” He’s already up off the step. “Lock the door behind me.”
He crosses toward the gate at the side of the house, his shoulders loose, his hands in his pockets. A second silhouette joins him at the corner of the property, one of the enforcers, and the two of them drop into a low conversation I can’t catch from the steps.
I sit a moment longer. The wolf has gone quiet, not settled, only waiting, the danger off the porch now but not out of the air.
I push up off the steps and let myself in. Deadbolt and chain go home behind me. The foyer is dim, only the sconces by the stairs throwing a low pool of light onto the marble. Past it, the dining room sits dark. On the table, when I pass, the candles have burned down to stubs, a smear of melted wax across the wood that nobody got around to cleaning.
The stew pot’s gone from the stove, Linda’s doing, since she wouldn’t have left it for Miranda to deal with in the morning. Before heading upstairs, I stop by the study. Opening the safe underneath the desk, I remove a dagger from it. It’s carefully wrapped and lethal to me, but there’s someone who can use it.
I climb the stairs slowly. My body is finally letting itself feel the exhaustion of the night, my knees stiff, the small ache at the base of my skull where I’ve been holding everything tight for hours. The bedroom door is cracked an inch. I push it open without a sound.
Miranda is on her side of the bed in one of my old T-shirts, sitting up against the headboard, a book open in her lap that she’s not reading. Her left shoulder is wrapped in a clean white bandage Linda must have helped redress before she went to bed. Ethan is curled into her, his small fist locked around the hem of her shirt, his cheek pressed to her chest. He’s fast asleep.
She looks up when I come through the door, and the breath leaves her in a slow exhale. “You made it back.”
“I’m here.” I ease the door shut behind me.
“You’re in one piece.” She closes the book and sets it on the nightstand, her eyes never leaving me. They move over my face, sweeping it for how much I’ll tell her tonight.
“Come here,” she says quietly.
I cross to the bed and ease down on the edge of it, careful of the boy. My hand finds her knee through the blanket and rests there. She doesn’t speak or ask anything, just looks at me with tired eyes until my shoulders drop a half-inch I hadn’t known they were holding.
“I told her if she ever moves again, I’ll kill her.”
“Good.”
