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“You don’t think they expected you to come back,” I realize.
She looks up at me, and she’s scared.
“I don’t know if they sent me to the woods to die, Lee, but I do know that the day before I left, I saw a weird notification about my bank. Like, my direct deposit had been canceled.”
“Why would it be canceled?”
“I didn’t get a chance to call because I was busy getting ready to come out with Bernie. I was really excited about the prospect of helping dragons in need. I didn’t think anything of it until later.” She pauses. “I’ve had a lot of time to just sit and...think. At the time, I brushed off the email as an error or a mistake, but what if it wasn’t?”
“What are you saying?” I kind of think I know what she’s getting at, but I hope I’m wrong. I hope that she’s just reading into things because she’s sad or bored. I hope she’s not actually suggesting that she was sent into the forbidden forest as a way to get rid of her.
Would anyone really be that evil?
Then I remember that it’s Lucky we’re dealing with, and my skin bristles. Suddenly, the urge to shift is at the forefront of my mind. I want to shift and be big and strong and here. I want to wrap my giant wings around Nicole and protect her. I don’t want anything bad to happen to her.
I want her to know that she is safe.
That she is protected.
I don’t love her anymore.
I haven’t loved her in years.
Keep telling yourself that.
I urge my inner-dragon to shut his damn mouth because I don’t want to consider that he might be right, that he might be onto something. I don’t love her. I can’t love her anymore. Loving Nicole is much too hard. It would hurt far too deeply.
So instead of admitting that I might still care, I focus on getting to the bottom of her suspicions.
“Did they do anything else that makes you think they might have been trying to get rid of you? And why would they do that? Especially after consulting with you for so long?”
“I don’t know,” she says. “I just don’t know.”
There’s something happening here. I feel like I’m missing a puzzle piece. Like, I need one or two more little clues and then I’ll have a better idea of what’s actually happening, but right now, I’m lost.
She’s still scared, though, so instead of talking anymore, I just sit with her, and I wrap my arms around her, and I hold her.
“You don’t love me,” she whispers. “You hate me.”
“I don’t hate you.”
We sit like that for a long time. I let the word sit on my heart for a minute and I realize that I don’t like it at all. Is that the message I’ve been sending her? That I hate her? Have I really been making her think that she’s not worthy? Have I made her think that she’s not special?
Maybe I should have been kinder to her in the breakup.
Perhaps I should have been more gentle than I was.
The reality is that I was hurting. I was in pain. I was fighting with the realization that the woman I loved more than anything didn’t want me because of my secret. Is being a shifter really that bad? She doesn’t seem to think so anymore.
“You aren’t afraid of me,” I whisper, suddenly realizing what’s different about this moment. She hasn’t flinched when I’ve moved to touch her. She hasn’t recoiled. She’s afraid, but none of that fear is directed at me.
“I know a lot more about shifters than I did before,” she tells me.
“I gathered. You know, since you worked for Lucky.”
“It was before that.”
“After the breakup?” I ask. Did she start learning about shifters after our separation? Did she decide to take the time to learn about me and my kind? Did she do it for me? A little sliver of hope begins to form, wondering if there’s a chance we could ever...
