Chapter 17
Bacon and Other Peace Offerings
Dodger
The scent of fresh air smells so wrong. Where’s all the smog and engine exhaust?
Getting inside the secluded cabin in the woods is even worse. I drop my bags by the door and stare skeptically at an offensive piece of decor, a garish, oversized moose head mounted above the fireplace.
“We’re staying here for how long?”
“Don’t say it like that.” Harper shuffles in behind me. “This is a nice place.”
I point to the moose. “In what universe is that nice?”
Marlow laughs. “It used to be a lot worse.”
Hard to believe. The cabin is rustic, cluttered with dead animal decor and knickknacks that look like handmade camp art projects. We left the city behind. Rowan will never find us here.
“You should have seen the place before Wynn and I started remodeling it,” Marlow says, leading us through a quick tour.
“This place has been in the Iron Pack for generations and it’s out of the way.
Wynn’s grandparents used it as a getaway when they were Alphas.
Full disclosure, we hauled the moose out of storage.
” Marlow rubs the back of his neck self-consciously.
“There may have been a few mishaps before I got the hang of renovating. The moose covers the stain.”
Harper blinks and shakes his head, making the executive decision to not ask follow up questions. Then his gaze swings to me and he raises an eyebrow, wondering if I’m going to comment. You know what? The dead moose is fine. I find myself staring down at my shoes.
Marlow tosses Harper the keys. “Food and basic supplies are in the kitchen. Wynn chopped some wood though you may need more. If you can, save the generator and use the fireplace at night.” He smirks, tossing a loaded glance at both of us. “It’s more romantic that way.”
Heat creeps up my neck and I give Marlow my best death glare. Something I should be pretty good at because, hello, necromancer. But he only waggles his eyebrows and makes kissy faces. Ugh.
Harper clears his throat. “This isn’t a vacation.”
The demon shrugs. “Hey, it’s still a secluded cabin in the middle of nowhere with nothing to do except…”
“Except?”
Marlow winks. “I’m sure you two can think of something.”
He’s strolling out the door a short time later, and suddenly it’s just me and Harper. And the moose. And all the tension I’ve been carrying since I learned about the connection between our brothers.
The last thing I want is to be alone with Harper after everything Rowan’s little gift revealed.
“It’s not so bad,” Harper says. The wolf steps closer, an almost smile on his face. “Private cabin, just the two of us. Could be nice.”
A few days ago, I would have melted at those words. But now all I can think about is whether my brother killed his family and how Harper will hate me when he finds out.
“I’m going to bed,” I mumble, grabbing my bag and heading for the hallway.
“Dodger, it’s four in the afternoon.”
“I’m tired.” It’s not a lie. I’m exhausted down to my bones but not in a way sleep will fix.
The next few days pass in excruciating slowness. I spend most of my time avoiding Harper, which is difficult in a one-bedroom cabin in the middle of nowhere.
I curl up on the window seat, pretending to read a paperback I found on a dusty shelf, but my eyes keep drifting over the same paragraph. Outside, Harper chops wood, his muscles flexing with each powerful swing. I find myself staring despite my best intentions.
Melody pads over and whines softly, nudging my leg.
She’s been my shadow these last few days.
I give her a pat on the head and scratch behind her ear and her back leg thumps as she puts her head on my lap.
We’ve been getting to know each other better and bonding.
She may be part ghost and have a bark capable of shattering glass but otherwise she’s pure dog.
“What?” I whisper. “I’m fine.”
She tilts her head, unconvinced.
“Okay, I’m not fine. But what am I supposed to do?” Those big eyes of hers stare silently, judging me. “Don’t you dare say anything logical like talk to him. I can’t.”
Melody huffs and dissolves into mist, reforming on the other side of the room. Rude. How is a ghost dog so judgmental?
When Harper enters a second later with an arm load of split logs, I realize she wasn’t fleeing because of me. She watches him warily from behind a chair, nose and eyes peeking out from the side.
“Shouldn’t take long to get the fire going,” he says, arranging the wood in the stone fireplace.
“Thanks,” I mutter, not looking up from my book.
The silence between us stretches, thick and uncomfortable. I can feel him watching me, can practically sense the questions building behind those golden eyes.
“Dodger—”
“I think I’ll turn in early,” I interrupt, standing abruptly. “Long day of... sitting around doing nothing.”
Harper’s jaw tightens, but he just nods. “Sure.”
As I pass him, he reaches out, fingers brushing my wrist lightly. “Whatever is bothering you,” he says quietly, “we can figure it out together.”
“Nothing’s bothering me,” I lie, pulling away. “I’m just tired.”
I use that excuse way too much over the following days. He must wonder how I could possibly be so tired when all I do is rest. Then again, he’s a detective. He puts two and two together.
Avoiding Harper gets easier because he seems to be helping me, giving me space. Every now and then, I catch him staring at me with sad eyes across the room or opening his mouth to say something but then he catches me looking and changes his mind.
Whatever he must be thinking can’t be good.
I went distant after we slept together and it must hurt.
But I’m too much of coward to just tell him what’s wrong.
I don’t want him to hate me. I wish that I could tell Harper for certain that there’s no way my brother hurt his family.
But it’s been years since I last saw Jonathan.
I have no idea what his life was like in the years after our aunt kicked him out.
So I’m stuck in limbo. It’s not right to get closer, but I can’t bring myself to drive him away for good by revealing what I know.
“Mel, you really aren’t a lap dog.” I’m burrowed deep into the couch, hoodie pulled tight around my face, blankets creating a nest I never want to leave.
Except it’s kind of warm, especially when my dog takes solid form and inserts herself on the remaining space in front of me.
It doesn’t work especially well. “Not sure we’re both gonna fit. ”
My headphones pump music directly into my brain, the volume just shy of painful. The music cuts out mid-chorus as Harper removes one of my earbuds. I startle, not having heard him approach.
“Sorry,” he says, holding a plate in his other hand. “Made lunch.”
The sandwich looks good—perfectly toasted bread, melted cheese, the works. My stomach growls, reminding me I’ve been skipping meals.
Before I can respond, Melody’s head snaps up and she lets out a low growl, tensing as she stares at Harper.
“It’s okay, girl,” I murmur, but she doesn’t relax.
Ever since Harper went all Alpha on her, she’s been wary around him. Her hackles rise whenever he enters a room, those glowing red eyes tracking his every movement like he might pounce at any second. I hope he isn’t going to tell her to get off the furniture again.
Instead, he crouches down, making himself smaller, and pulls something from the plate.
“I brought something for you too, Mel,” he says softly, revealing a few strips of bacon.
Melody sniffs the air and immediately licks her chops. Her focus narrows with predatory intensity, but she remains pressed against me, unwilling to venture closer to Harper.
“It’s okay,” he continues, placing a strip on the edge of the coffee table. “Peace offering.”
I watch, stunned, as my big bad Alpha detective patiently waits for my ghost dog to decide whether to trust him. It’s... adorable. Sweet. The kind of thing that would normally make my heart do backflips.
Melody cautiously stretches her neck out, doing her best to inch toward the bacon while still keeping her distance from Harper.
Once she’s close enough, she pounces, snapping it up in her teeth before crowding back against me on the couch.
Two loud crunches later and the bacon is devoured in seconds.
When he holds out another piece, she actually climbs down from the couch and takes it directly from his fingers. Harper lets her sniff his hand afterward, and when she determines there’s no more bacon there, she lets him give her a pat. An unlikely animal friendship is happening before my eyes.
It’s heartwarming, until Harper glances up at me with a wistful expression. “I know where I went wrong with the dog. I wish I knew how I upset you.”
“Wha, huh?” I mumble dumbly. “Why do you think you did something wrong?
“It seemed like we were doing good and now you can barely stand to look at me,” he says. “I hope someday you’ll tell me what I did so we can talk about it.”
Ouch. That hurts. A lot. I thought he’d just assume I was just being the same flighty, immature necromancer I used to be. The guy who had trouble getting close to people and ran at the first sign of danger. I didn’t expect him to blame himself.
“You didn’t do anything,” I say, my voice cracking. “It’s not you, it’s—”
“Don’t give me some line.”
“It is me, though,” I insist. “Or it’s my family.”
Harper frowns. “Your family?”
“It’s my brother.” Something inside me snaps.
I can’t do this anymore. Can’t keep pretending, can’t watch him blame himself for my mess.
As soon as I start talking, the words burst out of me.
“My brother is the one who killed your brother and sister-in-law. I saw news reports from the attack. The brother I haven’t seen in years, the one I told you about…
he’s the one responsible for your family’s deaths. ”
The silence that follows is deafening. Harper’s face has gone completely blank, those golden eyes unreadable.
“I understand if you hate me now,” I continue miserably. “I would. I do. That’s why I backed off. I’m so sorry. I should have just told you, but… I’m sorry.”
I can’t bear to see his reaction, to watch as realization and disgust wash over his features. I flip over on the couch, burying my face in the cushions. I wait for the inevitable sound of his footsteps walking away and the door slamming shut behind him.
Instead, I hear his footsteps get closer. A warm hand settles on my back.
“Dodger,” he says, his voice impossibly gentle. “Look at me. Is this what’s been bothering you?”
I nod against the cushion before gathering the courage to turn my head. “I’m so sorry.”
“You didn’t do anything wrong,” Harper says, his thumb brushing away a tear I didn’t realize had escaped. He doesn’t seem angry. Does he not believe me? “It’s okay.”
“It’s really not.” My voice cracks, betraying me.
“Nothing that happened in the past was your fault,” he says, his gaze never wavering from mine. “You weren’t even there. And nothing that happened before will change how I feel about you now. It’s just not possible.” His thumb traces the line of my jaw. “Will you trust me on that?”
“Harper—” I start to protest, but he cuts me off.
“Will you trust me?” There’s a quiet intensity in his voice, a certainty that makes my breath catch.
I nod, unable to speak past the lump in my throat.
“Thank you.” Harper leans forward, closing the distance between us.
His lips meet mine in a tender kiss. He kisses me like I’m something precious, something worth protecting.
It’s the last thing I deserve, but Harper doesn’t seem to care about that.
He keeps kissing me, his hand cradling my head, until the tension drains from my shoulders and I find myself leaning into him.
When we finally break apart, I’m breathless. “You’re taking this well,” I murmur, still not quite believing it.
“I already knew,” he says.