Chapter 22
22
The next seventeen hours at the cabin were everything Devin craved and everything he knew couldn’t last. He got to hold Alex, see her grumpy morning face, lie in the grass with her while the sun was shining, listening to her rant about the “dearth of twenty-two-episode season orders and the impact on television as a narrative art form” as she knit him a daisy crown that he wore, indulgently, all afternoon.
On paper, they might seem like opposites. Him—charming, shallow, ripped. Her—bleeding heart with the personality of a feral alley cat. But they both lost themselves in stories. Devin had played Colby for more than a decade, and he was still constantly thrown by the details about the show that Alex could recall. She and her fandom friends had found deep wells of meaning hidden in plain sight. They’d crafted an epic love story for Colby and Nathaniel, weaving together pieces of canon with infinite threads. Devin found this simultaneously massive weirdo behavior and strangely humbling.
Alex might have moved on from the TAF fandom, but Devin and the trials took her back to that place; he could see her visiting it in her mind, remembering where she’d lived during certain seasons, what hair color she’d had. The Arcane Files was almost as big a part of her life as it was for Devin. After years of hungering for someone else to care about the show like he did, he couldn’t get enough.
They packed up Wednesday morning and headed back to Tompkins. The full moon loomed closer on Devin’s app, reminding him that they’d been doing all this werewolf training specifically so he could leave in a few days.
The end of his time in Florida seemed to have arrived all of a sudden. He’d been so focused on each of the trials, anxious about passing them, that the thought of how he’d leave Alex never really crossed his mind. Now it felt like an unexpected fourth test. One he’d never seen coming and had no frame of reference for how to navigate.
The wolf was getting stronger each day, sitting closer to the surface like an itch under his skin. Devin could control the shift, could still filter the wolf’s impulses from his own, but his days of forgetting for a little while that he was more than a man lived in a different part of the calendar. The prospect of abandoning Alex was not something his other half enjoyed or even really seemed to understand. The wolf liked having Alex close in their own private space at the cabin, where Devin could monitor for threats or disruption.
Of course he couldn’t explain any of this to Alex directly without scaring her. Devin had to act normal. Like one weekend of sex was enough to get it out of his system. What a load of bullshit.
Some asshole once said it was better to have loved and lost, but Devin didn’t believe them. How could he when he already missed Alex even while she sat next to him in the passenger seat of the truck?
She has a job to do , he told the wolf when faced with the sudden urge to push the child lock after they pulled up to her place. She has family here, community, commitments. What do you want? To drag her back to LA? Have her life be a shadow of mine? Yeah, that had worked real well with his ex-wife.
Devin managed to stay away for a full twenty-four hours, occupying himself with packing and visiting Lou, trying to explain to him that they might not see each other for a while.
But then he figured, Why shouldn’t he spend the rest of his measly time in Tompkins following Alex around like a puppy? He’d obviously done way worse, dignity-wise.
Only, when he showed up at the community center, Alex wasn’t there. He knew immediately—not by sight, though clearly it was only Rowen behind the sign-in desk in the lobby squinting down at a textbook. No, he knew by smell. Or rather by the lack of it. He should probably worry that he’d gotten attuned to Alex to the point that he could detect her absence through his nostrils alone. But Devin wasn’t exactly well-versed in interrogating his emotions.
“Hey. How’s it going?” He leaned against the reception desk, trying to look casual.
“Alex isn’t here,” Rowen said without looking up from whatever they were typing into their calculator.
Which, okay, yeah, he could see that. But he knew she normally volunteered for this shift on Thursdays. She’d texted him her schedule back when they’d started planning out times to meet for training, and he might have, accidentally, memorized it.
“She’s not feeling so hot.” Rowen circled a line in their notes. “I’m covering so she can lay down in her car out back.”
In her car? What, that shitty tin can? If Alex was sick, she should be at home in bed, or in a hospital, maybe, depending on what was wrong with her.
Devin turned on his heel to go have words with her, but then it occurred to him.
“You okay here by yourself? You need help?” The wolf had a vague idea that Rowen was part of Alex’s pack and in need of looking after.
“I’m sixteen,” Rowen said, like that meant something.
“Yeah?” When Devin was sixteen, he had about ten different people taking advantage of him and, if that therapist he spoke to was right, an undiagnosed case of anxiety.
“I’m good,” they said with authority. “Beatriz comes in to relieve me at five.”
“Okay, cool.” Devin did a quick scan but didn’t see any immediate teenager-sized threats. “Just, like, yell if you need something.”
He could hear within a couple of miles; he’d been testing it. The parking lot shouldn’t be a problem. Maybe he could get them a bell?
“Uh-huh.” Rowen returned to their homework; Devin was dismissed.
Outside, white rock gravel crunched under his heels. Alex’s piece-of-shit Honda was parked under the shade of a giant palm tree. He swore there were new scratches on the fender since he’d last seen it, but at least Alex was inside. She’d curled up in the back seat like a pill bug, her little sneakers kicked off and her head pillowed on her arm.
When he knocked on the window, she shot up and banged her head on the ceiling.
“Shit!” they said in tandem, him sympathetic, her accusatory.
“Sorry, sorry.” Devin tried the door, which turned out to be open, so he guessed he could have woken her more gently, but knocking seemed polite. “Why didn’t you lock this?”
“I don’t know. I thought I did.” Her face flushed from either embarrassment or sitting up too fast. This was grumpier than he’d ever seen her. “What are you doing here?”
“Rowen said you’re sick.” He picked her calves up off the seat so he could slide in next to her and then put them back down over his thighs.
Alex made a noncommittal sound caught somewhere between a grunt and a groan.
Her frown was so deep as she rubbed at her eyes.
“What’s wrong?” The impulse to put his hand on her bare ankle to see if she had a fever struck him, but he wasn’t sure that would work. Was the forehead, like, a special place for that kind of thing?
While waiting for her to answer, half because he anticipated that she wouldn’t, Devin inhaled, assessing.
Something very faintly metallic set off her normal scent.
His stomach sank to his ass.
“You’re bleeding.” He started scanning her body, turning her on her side to check her back, then her front—Alex protested loudly, swatting at his arm—but he couldn’t find any open wounds.
What if the bleeding was internal? Like her organs. Someone died from that shit in the episode of ER where he’d played Male Nurse #2.
He opened the door, debating whether he could trust her junky car to get her to a hospital fast enough or whether he should just pick her up and start running.
“Devin”—Alex grabbed his sleeve from where she still lay half-prone—“what the hell are you doing?”
“Hospital,” he said. No time for full sentences. What had she been planning to do—just lie here and wait for death?
“I got my period,” Alex said through clenched teeth.
Oh. That…that made sense.
He sat back down. Shut the door. They both stared straight ahead.
Alex had a wintergreen air freshener that Devin wanted to throw out the window real bad.
“I don’t know how to fix that.” Erica mostly avoided him while surfing the crimson wave.
One corner of Alex’s mouth lifted. “You pretty much just have to grin and bear it.”
Devin winced. That sounded horrible. “Why don’t you go home?”
Alex let her head fall gently against the window. “I can’t really drive right now.”
He remembered the parallel she’d made when they first met. Moon cycles. That time of the month. Devin didn’t bring it up. He doubted Alex would appreciate any kind of comparison at the moment.
“It hurts that bad?” He knew, abstractly, that some people got cramps.
“It hurts that bad.” She wrapped both arms around her lower abdomen. “I have endometriosis.”
Devin didn’t know what that meant, but he’d look it up later. It seemed like talking was painful. “You need medicine?”
Alex shook her head. “I took some.”
“Chocolate?” He’d seen that in a Cathy cartoon once. He wanted, needed , to find a way to help.
She turned to scowl at him, the corner of her forehead still pressed against the glass.
“Is that a no?”
“No,” she muttered, and then, her voice very small: “Would you—could you maybe take me home?”
Devin felt like he could tear the world in half for her, right now, if it would have made a difference.
“Yeah, of course.”
He went back to the front desk quickly to make sure Rowen knew where they’d gone, then pushed the protesting Honda five miles over the speed limit on the way back to Alex’s.
“Can I carry you inside?” he asked when they got there.
She’d slumped down so far in the seat she was practically horizontal; the seat belt cut just under her chin.
The wolf kinda wanted to just do it without asking, head off any potential protest before it started, but Devin knew that wasn’t respecting her bodily autonomy and shit, so he waited for her reply.
Alex chewed her lower lip.
God, her front teeth made him lose it. That fucking gap. Devin felt like if he didn’t get to stick his tongue in her mouth at least once a day, he might die.
“No,” she decided after a moment, “I’m fine.” She pushed open the door and got out but then immediately doubled over, wincing. His stubborn, brave girl.
“Okay,” she said very softly, knowing he could hear. Her voice had gone brittle with pain.
Devin’s vision ebbed, the wolf fighting to surface. He didn’t fully understand what was going on. He wanted to attack whatever was hurting her.
Not what she needs , Devin scolded, wrestling back control and hustling around to get her.
When he got around to her side, Alex held up one arm to go around his neck. “Can you try to be gentle?”
“Yeah, baby.” He bent down so she didn’t have to reach, and then moved slowly once he had her gathered up against him, cradling the back of her head against his chest.
The wolf yipped approvingly when she tucked her nose against his shirt.
Devin swallowed. AO3 had recently introduced him to the concept of Fated Mates.
He didn’t need to turn the lights on to get around Alex’s loft over the garage. He could see without them, and Alex had her eyes closed anyway. A quick inhale told Devin that Isaac wasn’t home from work yet.
“Bed or couch?”
When Alex didn’t respond for a beat, seemed to be weighing what she wanted to say again, he made an executive decision.
Her bedroom smelled so fucking good, everything drenched in her scent, so rich and layered it was almost like a multisensory experience. Like he could taste her in the air. His knees threatened to buckle. Even spending all that time with her close at the cabin hadn’t prepared him for this. It took all his concentration to shove the wolf back. He wanted to roll around on her rug.
Once Devin got her on the bed, Alex curled up again with her face mashed into her pillow. As much as he’d tried to make the transition in from the car as smooth as possible, Devin knew her body hadn’t enjoyed the ride.
He felt panicky about the pain on her face, her eyes squeezed shut, her nose scrunched in a grimace as she kicked off her sneakers with two thunks.
The urge to howl strained the back of his throat.
“At the risk of truly forfeiting my dignity,” Alex said, “could you maybe help me take off my pants?”
Devin gulped. “No problem.”
This isn’t sexy , he told his body. She’s weak and vulnerable. Be cool.
His mouth still went dry as he undid the button on her jeans, as he slid down the zipper and guided the material over the warm, smooth skin of her thighs, revealing all that pretty ink as he tugged her pants past her calves and ankles all the way to her feet.
“I think I’ve got a heating pad in my closet.” Alex pointed. “Could you check?”
Opening her closet was another ordeal, with Devin fighting the urge to smother himself in all her laundry. Luckily, he found the heating thing with minimal fuss, plugging it in and then going to get her some water from her tiny kitchenette.
When he came back, she’d gotten under the covers. Devin checked the pad and found the soft terry cloth warm enough to the touch.
“Alex,” he said softly, setting the water down on the nightstand.
She opened her eyes but didn’t turn. “Hmm?”
“You want this heating pad?”
Alex curled her chin toward her chest, once, twice, then shoved the covers down below her belly button and pulled up her shirt. “Can you?”
“Oh, uh, sure.” Devin cleared his throat at the expanse of exposed skin above the band of her plain cotton panties.
Her skin was so soft against the backs of his fingers as he placed the heating pad on her abdomen. He did it as quickly as he could, trying to minimize contact, like he was playing Operation or defusing a bomb.
Afterward, he turned away from her and counted backward from five, willing his erection down. He was fucking embarrassed. But he couldn’t help it. She was almost naked. In her bed. She had a freckle beside her navel that he valiantly did not try to stroke. He felt lightheaded.
“I’m gonna go,” he announced. “You need anything else?”
Alex didn’t answer, but she reached back and got ahold of his pant leg in her fist.
Her eyes were still closed, her other hand folded over the heating pad.
“Will you sit with me for a little? Just until this thing kicks in?” Her voice didn’t have the same belligerent confidence as when she told him what to do in the bedroom.
This kind of vulnerability felt infinitely more rare from her. It’s rare that she asks for help , Isaac had said. But here she was, letting Devin take care of her, wanting something from him that no one else did.
“I’ll stay as long as you want,” he said and toed off his shoes.
Devin climbed up into bed beside her and leaned back against her headboard.
He didn’t know anything about comfort. When he tried to recall a model, a guide for this kind of thing, what came to mind was on-set handlers; PAs; his housekeeper, Teresa. He once gave her three hundred dollars to go buy him Gatorade during a particularly nasty hangover.
“Thanks.” Alex wiggled a little so her knees curled into a position that was almost but not quite touching his leg.
Usually when people wanted him to make something better, he gave them money. Alex wanted him close because his presence felt good to her. Because something about him made her hurt a little less.
He still didn’t really know what to do. Where should he put his hands?
But then he recalled the way Alex had climbed into that sleeping bag with him after his ice bath, urging him to hold her, using the warmth of her body to soothe him. To save him.
Slowly, like he was approaching a skittish animal, Devin reached up and brushed her dark hair back off her cheek. Alex leaned into his palm a little, so he kept his hand on her, sliding it up to scritch lightly at her scalp.
When she hummed approvingly, Devin went further, massaging her neck, her shoulders, until his wrist ached. Until her breathing had gone low and even.
The idea of not being here in a few days, not being able to provide comfort when she needed it, made him want to gnaw off his own arm.
She had paintings all over her bedroom. Landscapes and portraits and abstract watercolors. She’d hung dried flowers above her scratched wooden dresser, and her desk had a calamity of odds and ends, haphazard highlighters and scraps of notebook paper like she’d spilled ideas all over it. Her laptop, left open but sleeping, was covered in goofy stickers of cartoon cats.
Her space was so personal. So private. Compared to his bare, stark hotel room. To his big glass house in the California hills.
Every second in this room made his stomach twist with longing. Being here, close to Alex, knowing he had to leave, was torture.
He took the heating pad off after thirty minutes—the package had said to—and set it on the ground. But then, even when he knew he could get up and go, or at least go downstairs and watch TV, he didn’t move.
Devin closed his eyes, matched his inhales to Alex’s, and fell asleep sitting up.