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I blink fast, and my heart starts pounding like a jackhammer. Is that true? Have I really been good for him? “But he still left me—” I mutter.
“Guess he’s got something he needs to do first,” she says. “You want my advice?”
I nod eagerly.
“Give him a little time. But be ready for him when he’s done. You don’t want to let that one go.”
I go still, remembering that feeling I’d had—that we completed each other. In the last few days, I thought I’d lost it. But it’s still there, like a candle flame, fighting to stay lit in a breeze.
I hold up my bag. “Is there anywhere from me to crash here?”
She puffs out her cheeks. “I’m as full as ever, but I’m sure you can get Birdbrain to share a bunk with you.”
I break into a smile. My heart might be torn in two, but I’m lucky to have Meredith as a surrogate mother and a hectic little crow as a best friend.
Elinor isn’t justhappy to share her bunk with me. She insists on throwing a pajama party—the first one I’ve ever had. She gives me one of her spare sets, and introduces me to all her roomies. When the bar is closed, we sneak downstairs and make popcorn in the kitchen. Then we stay up late, hiding under the comforter and gossiping.
I don’t hear from Beau that night, or the next. Every hour that passes without him turns another knot in my stomach. When I think of him, I sense his pain and grief. A darkness pulling him down. I feel it like it’s my own pain, and my soul cries out to him.
But my wolf is becoming unbearable, clawing at me, howling for me to go to my mate. She’s making things a ton worse. I need to forget that I ever thought Beau could be mine. It’s the only way I’ll survive.
* * *
The third daydawns stormy and gray, the rain pelting down outside. And something in me shifts.
He’s been gone long enough.
The thought arrives in my heart, fully formed.
I slip out of bed, trying not to wake Elinor, who’s snoring softly on the pillow beside me, and I creep downstairs.
I’ve got to go and get him.
The notion blazes in my brain like a neon sign, and it gets more and more dazzling as I leave the bar. Rain is falling heavily, bouncing off the sidewalk. I pull my jacket over my head and go faster, faster, until I’m sprinting across the deserted town all the way back to Bertha.
The plan wasn’t fully fleshed out, but now I’m here, I know there’s only one thing I can do.
Bertha sits there, waiting for me so patiently. Our little home.
I climb into the driver’s seat and put the key in the ignition. She starts up immediately with a soft purr. The engine works perfectly—of course, it does. I scan the controls. I don’t have a license, but I used to drive a truck to the market and back. I think I know what I’m doing. Of course, driving an old school bus is different from a pick-up. But the brake and the gas and the gearstick seem to all work the same. I steer a lap around the parking lot, checking I know what I’m doing, then off we go.
I drive alongside the river, heading north, purely because it feels right. Beau went off to fix himself, or lose his mind, I’m not sure which. Where would a shifter who’s struggling with their animal go?
After I’ve been driving for an hour or so, I see a turn off for Devil’s Den state forest. I take it. The only thing directing me is my instinct, but I feel it as true as an arrow in my heart. Just like I feel that I’m coming closer to Beau with every step.
I follow the signs to a parking lot. Trails continue past it, but I figure I can’t go any farther with a bulky school bus. Instead, I park up.
Then I strip off and shift—because that’s the only thing that will help me right now. My wolf springs out of me with a joyous bark. I don’t need to think any more, I just let her run.
And she’s off, galloping, her aim never faltering as she dashes among the endless trees. Her paws churn up the earth, and she pants with exhilaration, nose twitching, desperate to pick up his scent.
The forest gets darker, barely any daylight filtering through the dense canopy of trees. It feels like a lonely, forlorn place. I understand why it’s called Devil’s Den. But suddenly, there’s a man—coming through the trees. Dark hair hanging loose around his face, a black beard covering his jaws. Tall, muscular, and gloriously naked.
With a yap of joy, my wolf hurtles toward him—
Then skids to a stop, inches away.
Because he looks feral, nothing like the Beau I know. His eyes are blazing with a strange light, and his face is drawn with torment.
