Page 49 of Below the Shadow of the City

“No, I’m serious, Maddox is your brother, right?” I raise my hand above my head and draw a rough outline of him in the air. Her eyes widen and sparkle with curiosity.

“Oh my god,” she mutters, “how…”

“A long, weird, story, he’d mentioned you worked above ground as a lawyer and when Billie introduced you tonight I made the connection. Small world, I guess?”

“I’m gonna kill him,” she snorts.

“Oh, oh I don’t think that’s⁠—”

“He’s seeing someone and didn’t tell me? That fucker.”

“Well, to be fair, we’re not really⁠—”

“Not really what?”

“I don’t know, dating, seeing each other, whatever. Things are weird right now. N-not because of him. He’s great, amazing, actually. I’m the weird one.”

She huffs, and I can’t get a read on her. She’s far less expressive than her brother, and the lack of tail makes it tougher to gauge how she’s feeling. Never in my life did I envision myself secretly wanting someone to have a tail to wag.

“Look, he’s a good guy, a really, really good guy. And him not telling me about you means he’s probably taking whatever’s going on between you both pretty seriously. I’m not going to play the meddling older sister and make you promise not to hurt him, but you should know, he’s genuine.”

I nod at everything she says. “I know he is, honestly I might not deserve him.”

“No, you might not. I don’t know you, so for all I know you’re a bitch. Don’t break his heart, ok? He doesn’t deserve that.” A breeze blows on the patio and goosebumps prick at my skin.

I’d been so protective of my own heart I selfishly never considered his.

CHAPTER 20

Once I’m off my subway stop I run down the street as fast as my boots allow and straight to the basement. My heels clack against the tile as I rush across the laundry room floor, through the corridors of concrete, and to the elevator. I slam the button to take me to his floor and rapidly tap my foot as I watch the numbers tick down. I speed through the hallway, not caring if someone spots me. My fist pounds on the door to his apartment, and I hear heavy footsteps cross his wood floor and the tapping of his claws. He waves meekly from his place in the doorway, his tail swaying gently. I wave back.

Before we can exchange any words I pull myself into him and we kiss. He’s nearly bent in half to reach my lips, and I feel him shake with a giggle. There’s not much more we can do than laugh about how stereotypically cinematic our interactions continue to be.

“I need to stop running away from you,” I chuckle, out of breath. Maddox tucks a piece of hair behind my ear.

“I probably need to stop taking it so personally when you do,” he kisses my forehead. “Do you want to come in? I was about to go for a run. We can hang out when I get back, maybe grab dinner? If you’re fine to hang out here solo for a half hour or so, that is.” He’s wearing athletic shorts and a white t-shirt, and I nearly miss his question because I’m so distracted by the way his shapely thighs look in those almost too-short shorts.

“Sigrid?” He pulls me from the lusty void I’ve found myself in. I feel as if I should suggest a far better form of exercise that would benefit us both. I blink my eyes slowly a few times and realize I’m completely avoiding eye contact by staring at his massive, toned, fur-covered legs.

“Y-yes! I’ll be fine!” I stammer. He gives me a wink that completely withers me, then swiftly exits the door. The brick space is quiet, and dim light comes from a few lamps spaced in the living room. It all smells like him, as if the apartment and him are blended into one. I walk through the kitchen and stalk the high-end appliances, the price tags of his gas range, double oven, and pot filler attachment all ticking up in my head. I scour his fridge, scarce save for protein drinks, Diet Coke, chicken breasts, and vegetables.

I’ve never had time to fully take in his massive living room, I’ve been on his couch multiple times now. The depths of his filled bookshelves and personal effects that litter the space are still a mystery for me to explore.

I wander slowly, tiptoeing almost as if he’s in the other room. My finger traces the spines of his massive book collection, and I look at the collectibles and knick knacks that fill the large oak shelves. I should ask him what they all mean and the stories behind him, I should treat this like he’s someone to know, not someone to run from.

On one of the bookshelves sits a family portrait. There’s someone who looks like a sterner, older version of Maddox sat next to a woman who looks identical to Inez with goddess locs and very visible horns. Her eyes gleam a warm amber, and they’re mesmerizing in the same way Maddox’s blue eyes are. Two children sit in the front, Maddox and Inez. Maddox is utterly adorable, and I wonder what his own children, our own children, would look like before I stop myself. The young version of him grins and his mouth is crooked in the same way it is now.

He re-enters the apartment and I jump at the sound of his door slamming shut. I lower the picture frame back onto the bookshelf, but not before Maddox catches what I’ve been looking at.

“That was right before she got sick,” he materializes behind me and lifts up the frame. His thumb lingers over the stunning woman in the portrait. His claw ticks at the glass.

“She was beautiful,” I say quietly.

“She was incredible, it’s been eighteen years but I can still close my eyes and see her smile.” I nod along silently. I don’t make eye contact, worried that seeing him tear up will make me do the same.

“When she died,” his voice tightens. “I didn’t grieve like I should have. My dad, he’s stoic. He didn’t let my sister and I see him cry. She was a few years older, and she had her own friends and ways to process. So I was left to handle it on my own, and I really didn’t. I pretended like everything was fine.”

“I know the feeling,” I quietly answer.