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10
Savannah
He’s gone. He’s really gone.
When I peel off the note he taped to the door of the bus, the words blur from the tears that spill from my eyes.
Because I know, deep in my heart that he hasn’t just gone away on a job.
He’s giving Bertha to me. And he’s not coming back.
This thing I’ve been fearing ever since Beau didn’t want to kiss me anymore has come true.
Darkness comes down over my vision, and I cling onto the side of the bus for support.
He’s left me, because somehow, being with me hurts him.
I can’t let this happen, I can’t.
I burst into the cabin and rush around, searching, searching for any kind of clue about his whereabouts.
But there’s nothing.
I tip my head back and howl.
And just like that, my wolf comes. I only have time to rip my jeans off, before she bursts out of me, tearing up every other thing I’m wearing.
Then she goes ballistic. Hurtling around the van, trashing the place, just like she did last time. She burns with anguish, calling for her mate again and again.
A long time passes before I can get her back under control.
And when I’mfinally standing on two feet again, trembling, I discover she’s torn up half the upholstery. Her teeth and claws are damned sharp.
As I look around in dismay, I realize I can’t stay here. This lovely place that became a home to me. Yes, because it’s a beautiful little house, but mostly because Beau was in it. And every last thing reminds me of him.
I guess he thought he was showing me a kindness, leaving Bertha to me. But I can’t stand to see her. So, I grab a few things, lock up, and make my way back to the bar.
Meredith is waiting for me.“Come here, honey,” she says and enfolds me in her big, strong arms.
I won’t cry, I won’t cry,I tell myself as I lean into her embrace. She so soft, so enveloping. The mother I never had.
“He’s left me, hasn’t he?” I demand.
When she draws back, her brown eyes are bright with sympathy.
“That wolf of yours is a tortured soul. But he’s also a real good man. Maybe he just needs a little time to himself.”
“I’m not enough for him, am I?”
“Oh, honey, you’re more than enough for him. The first time I saw him, sloping around here by himself, before he met you, I thought to myself, there goes a lonely, wounded soul.”
I shake my head in disbelief.
She chuckles. “Oh, you don’t see him that way, do you? Because he’s all big and protective and tough. And he’s all that, in spades. But he’s also got a wound, a hole deep inside him, that goes all the way back to his early years.” She lays a hand on her chest. “I’ve got a sense for these things.”
“But how can I help him?” I almost laugh at my own words. Me, who’s so naïve. So ignorant about the ways of the world. I’ve never even had sex before.
She shakes her head. “You’ve helped by being there. Ever since he brought you in that first day, he’s been different. More himself. Easier in his own skin.”
