Page 2 of License to Kill

“If I wanted to work interior, I would be working interior. Fine, I can’t qualify for two months. At least put me on proper leave then. I can evaluate in two months. I am fine with that. It’s not the first time I’ve had to do medical leave, and it won’t be the last.”

In two months, a lot could change, and it could be for the better, although I doubted I’d appreciate the restrictions.

“Medical leave is an appropriate solution to this problem, Pauline,” Jake’s father stated. “Medical leave doesn’t revisit a poor situation, it allows her to receive pay, and it gives her a chance to settle. Jake can handle his work as normal. He has worked in the field long enough, he has the experience, and will be fine in the violent crimes division.”

“I don’t like it.”

“You don’t like it because you expect her to understand how we operate as a pack in the FBI. She has been cultivated as a Normal. If she wants to take medical leave, you will let her without complaining about it. It’s not your choice. She isn’t in the pack, and as she’s not a Fenerec, she won’t be in the pack. Don’t apply pack rules to her when they don’t apply and can’t apply. Leave it be. If she wants to go back to school and become a teacher, you’ll not say a single word about it.”

While Pauline had always crossed me as the inevitable victor of any disputes between her and her husband, she nodded without putting up a fight.

Interesting.

The days dragged into each other, and the bitter transition from active FBI special agent to on medical leave to a stay-at-home wife wore away at me. The promised two months turned into three months, and I stared at the rest of my life with a relentless chill in my chest.

I’d been right about the weight of dread and how it could smother me. I’d also been right about my abilities to endure.

Every time I asked about qualifying and reapplying, someone made up some damned excuse. When it became apparent my medical leave would end in termination, my fox focused on what was important to her: having the family group Jake, his parents, and the member of his pack enjoyed.

I could tell when Jake sensed something from his pack. His eyes grew distant, and he forgot I existed, focusing on something I couldn’t see or hear.

My fox grieved, and after having asked Jake yet again, sometime after three months bled into four, if I could become part of his pack, he’d started working longer hours to avoid me.

By the time the fifth month slogged around, I accepted nothing would change. My packed bag waited by the door along with a new cell phone with an equally new number, and in an exercise of hubris, I’d texted my ma identifying myself in case she ever wanted to give me a call. Her reply offered the only glimmer of hope I’d had in months. She’d think about it and get back to me in a day or two; she had some business she had to attend to first.

My fox could wait for a day or two for the chance to become a part of even a broken family.

I could have left without a word, but my ma hadn’t raised me to be a coward. I’d tell Jake I was leaving right to his face, take my bag, and hit the road. I’d be hitting the road without a car, but I had two feet—and four feet when I got far enough away from civilization. I’d walk to the bus stop ten miles away, get a ticket, and find somewhere new to call home.

I figured I could find something in New York. I’d survived there once already.

As he had every other day since our last fight, Jake came home late, and he smelled of some other woman. He lacked the stench of sex, but the scent broke my fox’s last hope there’d been an us.

“I’m leaving,” I announced before my courage broke.

Jake halted near the door, and his brows furrowed. “What?”

“I’m leaving. You come home smelling like other women every night, you’re working late to avoid me, and I’m tired of being here, so I’m going. We’re over, Jake. That’s what your pack wants, isn’t it? Well, you’re getting what you asked for. We’re over, and I’m leaving.”

“Let’s talk about this,” Jake replied, but I questioned his sincerity.

His voice lacked emotion.

Mine did, too, when I thought about it.

No, it was better for both of us if I pulled the plug without wasting our time with any other half-hearted, pointless efforts. “We’ve done all the talking we’re going to do. Why should we repeat the same old damn fight? I’m a fox. You’ve made it clear foxes don’t belong in wolf packs. You can’t give me what I want, and because I’m unstable, or so says everyone without even bothering to do a psychological evaluation, I can’t work. I’m tired of waiting, so we’re done. It’s been five months. I’ve been waiting here for five months doing nothing. Five months. Two of medical leave, three of me being a trophy wife sitting in this house doing nothing at all.”

My only contribution to the house had been the new coffee table, and I hoped the bastard thought of me every time he saw the damned thing until he got rid of it, too.

Jake continued to frown. “Has it been that long?”

“I guess you Fenerec just don’t notice how time passes, do you? It’s been that long. You lied to me. You gave me a lot of hopes and shit promises, and I’m done. I’m leaving. I only waited because you deserved to hear it from me directly. I deserve better than this.”

That counted as a lie, and I wondered if Jake smelled the truth on me. I wasn’t sure I cared. I strolled towards the door, and he caught my arm. “Wait, Karma.”

“My guns and keys are in the kitchen, and I took a few hundred dollars out of the bank account until I can get settled elsewhere. You had your chance. You had five months worth of chances. First, you supported me being benched because you were worried about my shoulder. Then, because your parents thought it was a good idea, you thought it’d be better for me if we took our time. While you worked and ignored me here because you couldn’t deal with me wanting in the pack. Not only have you been working and ignoring me, you’ve been doing so with other women. Maybe nobody can smell me on you, but I can smell them on you, and I’m tired of it. I won’t have my husband smelling like other women when he can’t give me the time of day. I don’t even care if you’re not cheating on me. Since scents are that fucking important to you, maybe you should have respected me enough to keep away from other women while still married to me.”

Jake grimaced at that. “I can’t bring you into the pack.”