Chapter 22 - Body
On the ride back from New Hope, Amanda is quiet. I’d hoped that some time with Lucy would comfort her, but it seems it only made things worse.
Maybe it wasn’t her chat with Lucy, but the hospital.
The schoolhouse at New Hope functions as a medical center in the back, left over from the great battles Rider fought against Tobias. Today was the first day in many years it housed so many wounded, and the sight was confronting.
Amanda wanted to help, but eventually, Lucy sent her away, saying it was too dangerous when Amanda wasn’t fully healed yet.
“Babe?” I ask softly.
Amanda stares out the window of the truck into the darkness of the falling night. I’m not even sure she heard me until she shakes herself and seems to return from a very faraway place.
A place that doesn’t look like a happy one.
“Hmm?” she murmurs.
“What would you like for dinner?” It’s a lame question, but truly the best I can do in an attempt to open a conversation.
“Whatever you like,” she answers.
“How about we get some fried chicken and potato cakes from the little shop? You always liked to go there when you were having a bad day.”
“Sure,” she mumbles, and I’m still not sure she has even heard me, let alone knows what we’re talking about.
I try not to worry, but anxiety begins to gnaw at my guts and won’t let up. We stop at the burger joint and grab some food, but Amanda shows little interest in it. By the time we get home, I’m starting to get seriously wound up, and I can’t keep it in.
“Hey,” I say firmly as she tries to walk away from me. “Talk to me, please.”
“Oh?” She turns to me, awareness flickering in her blue eyes. “What’s wrong?”
“Sit down,” I say, gesturing at the couch. She does, and I force a bag of fried chicken into her hands. She starts eating but mechanically, as if she can’t taste the food.
“What’s wrong?” she asks.
“You’ve just been so out of it today. I’m worried about you.”
“You don’t need to worry about me,” she answers, smiling. “I’m healing up just fine.”
“I don’t believe that, but it’s not what I’m talking about, anyway. It’s like—it’s like you’re sad about something.”
“Of course I’m sad!” she snaps, and I’m relieved to see real emotion rising in her. “We lost so many of our own, and the other packs have had casualties, too. Seeing the wounded absolutely broke me in two. Why are you asking me this?”
“No,” I say, taking her hands and looking into her eyes. “I’m not talking about that, I’m talking about us. Last night, we were so close. I felt like you were finally with me. But now—”
Concern clouds her face, and I see dismay shining in her eyes. “I’m sorry,” she says. “I didn’t mean to make it feel like I was pulling away from you, but I just have a lot to think about.”
I watch her face, trying to understand how she’s feeling. This morning, everything felt right, until she talked to the others and found out how bad the aftermath of the fight really was.
“Like what?” I ask.
She tightens her hands on mine, leaning in to kiss me. It’s a quick kiss, a mere taste of her lips.
“No matter what, Body, don’t doubt my love for you. I never stopped wanting you, even when I thought you hated me.”
“I never—”
“I know you didn’t. But for a while, I thought you did, and it made absolutely no difference, and I hated myself for that.”
“And it wasn’t necessary,” I say, feeling sorrow for everything she went through after I brutally dumped her. “So many years of pain, and it didn’t even have to happen.”
“It’s okay,” she says, stroking my face. “I forgive you. I don’t want you to worry about me. I’m just recovering. Everything’s going to be alright.”
I don’t quite believe it, but I let her comfort me, and I try to put my faith in her. She cheers up a bit as we eat dinner and watch some silly videos. I’m reassured by the way she curls up close to me that night.
The next morning, the distance between us is back, and now I’m afraid to mention it. There is a hesitance in her touch, and her gaze slides away from mine before we make real eye contact. Even though I try to keep it under control, worry eats away at me, and I can’t even express it.
She asked me to trust her. But now, if I keep bringing it up, she’ll think that I don’t.
I have to go out for a short while to run some errands. While I’m out, I pick up some of her favorite things in the hope that I can cheer her up. When I get back, she’s standing in the backyard, staring up at the hills with a blank expression on her face.
“Amanda?” I cry in alarm, but she barely notices me.
“I can hear them!” she hisses. “All the voices. They are speaking to me.”
“What voices?” I ask, my own voice rising at the same rate as my anxiety.
“The dead,” she says. “I can hear the dead, all the past, and the present. They don’t rest easy, and they won’t lie still.”
“Amanda!” I shout, grabbing her arms and shaking her. “Snap out of it! Do I need to get Lucy?”
Slowly, awareness comes back into her eyes. She blinks, and it’s like a shroud passes across her vision. She looks at me with some confusion.
“Body?” she asks. “What’s happening?”
“You’re standing out in the yard barefoot, staring into a freezing cold wind!” I say, wrapping my coat around her. “Let’s get you inside. Do you have any idea what you were talking about just now?”
“No,” she says, shaking her head, but she keeps her gaze from mine as she does.
Like she’s lying.
“Should I get Lucy?”
“No, there’s no need to trouble her,” Amanda says a bit too quickly. “What did you get for dinner?”
“Italian. Your favorite restaurant on the other side of town.”
“Oh, thank you. I forgot about that place. They have the best fettuccini.”
“I didn’t forget,” I say.
While we have dinner, Amanda seems to perk up, but I still feel like something isn’t right.
Don’t curse yourself, man. If you start second-guessing everything, you’ll truly fuck this up!
She happily tucks into the food, and a few glasses of a nice merlot. She talks easily about trivial things, and I try to follow suit and trust her.
So why does it feel like she’s completely avoiding looking right at me?
When we go to bed, she snuggles against me, and my heart soars. I keep my arms wrapped around her, finally feeling secure that she’s really okay.
Then, just as I begin to drift off, she untangles herself from my arms, slides over to the other side of the bed, and curls up with her back to me.
I barely sleep that night, and when morning comes, it brings no relief. Amanda rolls over as I wake, and I see the drawn look on her face.
“The funeral is today,” I mention, and she nods.
There’s no point in saying good morning, because it certainly isn’t.
The loss and sorrow of the day hit my growing anxiety like jet fuel thrown on a nuclear reactor. I feel jittery and tense, completely locked in my own skin.
I don’t try to talk to Amanda as we get ready. Any false platitudes or attempts to converse would be in poor taste. Still, I can’t help but feel lonely, and even a little abandoned.
As much as I love her and want her to get well, I still feel hurt that she won’t let us take comfort in each other.
Just one big hug, long kiss, or… damn, I’d take a good hand squeeze at this point.
We were supposed to be fighting the future together, but I’ve never felt more alone.
Bailey and Gina hold a brief ceremony behind Jenks’s place. Carson speaks ritual words, and so does Jen, but neither brings me any comfort. Amanda keeps her arms wrapped around herself, staring at the graves as the others speak about the dead. Only a few pack members have come, and Lucy and Amanda are the only witches there.
There is a brief wake, but no one stays long. Before we leave, Bae tells me he wants us to get together soon to discuss our next move.
“I’ll put the word out and text you when,” he says. “But we can’t sit idle. I know they won’t.”
“Sure thing,” I reply. “I’m always with you, Bailey.”
“I know you are,” he says, and we hug briefly before I go.
When I get outside to my truck, Amanda is there, standing by the door as she stares up the mountain.
“What are you doing out here?” I ask. “Didn’t you want to see Lucy and the others?”
She shakes her head. “Nothing to talk about. Can we just go home, please?”
“Sure,” I mutter, getting in the truck.
The night drags by with infinite slowness. Again, I spoil Amanda with her favorite food and wine, but she seems to barely notice.
I feel like it can’t get any worse, but the next few days only increase the agony. When Bae finally texts me to come and meet with him, I can’t wait to leave the house.
“I have to go and see Bailey,” I tell Amanda with some relief. “Will you be okay for a bit?”
“Yeah,” she answers. “I’m actually meeting with the girls.”
“Hey, that’s great!” I say with enthusiasm. “I think it’s a good idea. You guys have fun catching up.”
“We will,” she replies, smiling.
I kiss her goodbye, trying not to read too much into the way she pulls away and glances at the floor to avoid looking into my eyes.
Just relax. It will take time. Have some patience.
I’m still relieved to get in my truck and head into town. Bae, Rider, Peter, and I are meeting at a bar far away from Shelley’s. They are worried the others are spying on us, and if we have any kind of official meeting at one of our usual spots, we could get attacked.
I pull into the parking lot of the little dive and go inside, feeling completely out of place.
I’ve lived in this town my whole life, and I’ve never been in here before. It seems bananas when you think about how small the town is.
I see Bae, Rider, and Peter over at a far table and go to sit with them. Bae looks just as uncomfortable as I am, but the twins look chill.
“Hey,” I say, sitting down. “Where’s Kyle and Jack?”
“Running patrols,” Bae says. “We’re just waiting for our contact, then once we get the news, we decide what to do.”
“Contact?” I ask, confused.
“Me,” Nate says, sitting down at the end of the table. I almost don’t recognize him—his long, straw-like hair has been cropped short, and his leather, hand-stitched clothes have been replaced by jeans and a t-shirt.
“You look… respectable,” I say.
He nods. “Yeah. Undercover,” he mutters.
“How’s your sister?” I ask him snarkily.
Bae raises a hand. “Cut it out. He’s with us.”
“What?”
“Kelta and her elders are against us. The younger wild wolves aren’t. Nate has been invaluable the last few days, gathering intel for us.”
“Only if we can trust him,” I say, my voice getting loud.
Rider puts a hand on my shoulder. “Will you calm down? Are you trying to draw attention to us?”
“Sorry,” I mutter, putting my head in my hands. “I’m too stressed out. Tell me what’s going on.”
“They’re watching you,” Nate confirms. “They have scouts up in the hills, and Decker is putting together a small army over in Silverton.”
“Are they going to attack?” Peter asks.
Nate nods. “They don’t want you, just the witches. They want to kill them all.”
“What?” Bae hisses.
“Yeah,” Nate confirms. “It’s not about you, not really. They think if they can kill the witches, they’ll protect every wolf in the territory.”
“But there are more witches than just this coven,” I protest. “They’re all over town, and in surrounding areas. They just aren’t as visible.”
“Decker thinks those ones aren’t a threat, and he won’t go looking for them if they don’t try and marry wolves…”
Nate cuts himself off, sighing as if the words are hard to say.
“What is it?” Bae asks.
“My sister is completely unhinged. She’d kill anyone she even vaguely suspected of being a witch. She has to be stopped.”
“What do you suggest we do?” Rider asks.
“I’ll get you the exact locations and numbers,” Nate says. “If I can’t sneak in, I’ll get someone who can, and we’ll be back to you with intel as soon as we can.”
“How does your sister not suspect you?” Peter asks.
“She ran us off. All the younger ones that won’t obey her—she kicked us out. She’s an arrogant bitch. She’d never consider the fact we could be just as smart as her.”
“Be careful then,” I warn.
He nods. “Should I go now, Alpha Bailey?”
“Yes, kid,” Bae says, shaking his hand. “I appreciate the help.”
“We’re in it together,” Nate says, getting up and nodding to us all before leaving.
Silence falls around the table. We all know what needs to be said, but no one wants to say it first.
“It’s time, then,” Peter says.
“Yes,” Bae agrees. “Time to tell the others and mobilize for war.”