Chapter 20
Unfinished Business
Harper
Reaching out to the spirit world paid off in a big way. And watching the necromancer in training learn his craft was intriguing.
But cleaning up afterwards? Much less glamorous.
“Is any of this yours?” I ask as I sort through the table where Dodger set up a little altar, which still smells faintly of sage and something metallic. “Should I put it aside for you?”
“Nah,” he answers. “I improvised.”
Dodger’s spread out on the couch, one arm flung dramatically over his eyes, the other dangling toward the floor.
His chest rises and falls with each deep breath.
Leaving all the cleanup to me. It’s no bother since he did all the heavy lifting, but the way he’s settled in makes me suspect this division of labor might become a habit.
That is, if we become… the kind of people who build habits together.
Usually, cleaning relaxes me. The repetitive motions create a rhythm that lets my mind empty.
Not this time.
“You really think you contacted James?” I ask as I bring the trash can from the kitchen into the living room.
Dodger’s chest expands with a deep inhale before he answers. “I think so. We weren’t really seeing through their eyes, so it’s hard to tell.” It was more like being a fly on the wall or seeing a movie than experiencing it through someone else’s eyes.
“He wasn’t in the first vision we saw.” I pause. “Vision, is that the right word?”
Dodger raises his arm from his face to shoot me a smart look. “Why are you asking me? I have no idea.”
We share a laugh. It helps loosen my shoulders as I keep tidying up.
“Just because we didn’t see your brother doesn’t mean he wasn’t there,” he reasons, pushing himself upright with a groan.
“True.” Collecting the ashes from the newspaper in a neat pile is simple. I focus on the task as I force the words out. I need to know. “Whoever you contacted, did you get any sense of them? Could you tell if they… were they angry, if they... how did they feel about me?”
“Linking up with the dead isn’t really my strong suit.” Dodger stretches his arms overhead. “Sorry. All I know is what we both saw.”
“Right, that’s fine.” I sweep the ashes into the trash.
“Why?” he asks. “Why would your brother be angry?”
Well, I started this by asking the question. I brought this on myself. He deserves the answer.
“We weren’t on the best terms when he died,” I admit, my voice coming out sharper than intended.
Dodger blinks, the gears turning in his head as he processes.
It’s almost funny when he realizes we’re heading into another serious conversation.
His Adam’s apple bobs as he swallows and his shoulders tense almost imperceptibly.
The same man who’d fearlessly contacted the spirit world and summoned beasts from other worlds looks spooked by family drama.
Guess I get that. Neither of us are very good at feelings. But when I’m around him, I want to try.
“Scoot over.” I gesture at him to give me some room and he moves his legs, creating just enough space for me to sink down beside him.
Dodger looks so young as he pulls his legs up under him and turns to face me. “Right, sure. Let’s talk.”
A lock of dark hair falls across his forehead.
That familiar stubborn glint appears in his eyes—the same one I’d seen when he faced down spirits, monsters, and now the prospect of uncomfortable emotions.
The sight of his quiet resolve loosens something in my chest and gives me the strength to speak.
“My brother James moved to Brighton because of me. Those Alphas I told you about that were busy wrangling the pack in my hometown and making sure nobody exposed our secrets? They were my parents.”
“Oh. Is that why you’re an Alpha?”
“Yeah. My brother and I were both trying to prove we should take over. The competition got pretty heated.” I sigh, running a hand through my hair.
“Wanted it so damn bad I lost sight of everything me winning meant, that for it to happen my brother had to lose. By the time I realized that earning Alpha would cost me a brother it was already too late. James and his wife weren’t happy my parents picked the unmated alpha, weren’t happy with a lot of things.
We couldn’t smooth things over. They left the pack and started over somewhere else. ”
“In Brighton,” he fills in.
“Yeah.” My eyes fall closed for a moment, wishing it were possible to change the ending. When I open them again, the cabin’s rustic ceiling comes into focus, wooden beams stretching overhead. “Before I even knew how to go about fixing things, they were gone.”
“That’s terrible,” he says quietly. His hand twitches on his knee like he might reach out.
“Being Alpha of the pack lasted for about two seconds,” I laugh bitterly.
Worked so hard to get it and then it was gone so quickly.
“I stepped down when they were killed and moved to Brighton. James and Elaine gave up their lives trying to protect people there, and with them gone, well, I figured someone should watch over things for them.”
Dodger nods, falling silent as he thinks it all over. After a moment, he extends his leg and nudges my thigh with his sock-covered foot. “You aren’t responsible for any of this. You know that, right?”
“James wouldn’t have even been in the city if it hadn’t been for me,” I say, guilt a familiar weight pressing against me.
Being mates with the guy whose brother was blamed for the attack that killed my brother hadn’t rattled me too much.
When he confessed the connection between our brothers, it wasn’t shocking.
Not sure exactly when I started putting it all together but it was one theory I’d started pondering that seemed to make sense.
Maybe it was easy to accept because I’ve never directed my anger fully at the necromancer who orchestrated the attack, too busy pointing it inward, at the brother who drove them away to begin with.
“Well, I sensed that he’d forgiven you with my ghost powers.” Dodger waves his hands like he’s absolving me.
I eye him. “No, you didn’t.”
“Okay,” he admits, folding easily. “I sensed he’d forgive you with my powers of the obvious.
You may like carrying that guilt around, but you gave up your pack, you put up with a boss you don’t agree with and do your best to be fair, and you’re still trying to set it all right.
It’s been five years. He’s forgiven you.
The only thing James is pissed about now is you not forgiving yourself. ”
The sunlight streaming through the window shifts, casting half his face in shadow while highlighting the determined set of his jaw. He says it so matter of factly for a guy who just got caught in a lie.
“You don’t know that, Dodger.”
“That’s what I’d do,” he says.
“Oh, you’re angry at me now?”
“No. I’m giving you a chance to do the right thing.” He smiles sweetly, like he’s doing me a favor. “But I will be if you try to shoulder the blame any longer. Let it go or we will have words again. You don’t want that.” He makes a face. “Nobody wants that.”
I’ve been carrying this guilt for so long that its weight has become a part of me.
But hearing Dodger’s perspective makes a lot of sense.
Maybe he really had channeled my brother somehow.
Or maybe he and James shared more traits than I’d realized—both stubborn and blunt to a fault, both unafraid to call me on my bullshit.
Though James, for all his trying, never managed to get under my skin quite like Dodger does with such apparent ease.
I can almost hear James’s voice now, telling me I’ve done enough penance, that he’d stopped wanting to kick my ass years ago, but he’d gladly start again if given the chance to knock some sense into me.
“You might be right,” I say eventually.
“Might be?” he repeats, raising an eyebrow.
“You are right, but I don’t think I can let this go, not quite yet.” Maybe soon, if everything goes right. I push myself up from the couch and extend my hand toward him. “Not until the two of us finish this.”
“Finish this?” He tilts his head, dark hair falling across his forehead as he wraps his slender fingers around mine. I pull him to his feet, bringing us face to face. “You mean until we stop Rowan?”
“Yeah, the person that killed our brothers. Then they can rest in peace and we can move on. That feels fitting, right?”
“Yeah,” he says as he mulls it over. “I guess it does.”
“Of course, you don’t need to do anything.” This is a personal matter, not his professional duty. “I have contacts in the Concordia law enforcement now. We can work to take Rowan down if you feel safer not—”
His face scrunches up, annoyed. “Hell no, are you kidding me? I’ve been waiting to kick Rowan’s ass.”
Then it looks like we have work to do.
Maybe I should insist he stay behind and let me protect him, but would he listen? Not a chance.
Besides, it felt fitting. Avenging our brothers together. Making Rowan answer for what he’s done. Everything is finally falling into place.
Then again, I’ve felt like everything started going right once I Recognized Dodger.
As soon as I began seeing Dodger as my potential mate, it became nearly impossible to view him in any other way.
His defiance stopped irritating me and started fascinating me instead.
That stubborn resilience, the way he pushed through his fear, how he challenges me and pushes me out of my comfort zone.
Suddenly I’m going to kitschy bakeries for breakfast just because he might like them or seeking out things like a supernatural carnival and cheating to win him a prize.
He forces me to reconsider my rigid perspectives, to actually stop and breathe instead of grinding myself down with duty and guilt. To remember what living feels like instead of just surviving.
I need him.
We’ll stop Rowan together. And with a little luck and a lot of persistence, maybe by the time we’re done, he’ll realize he needs me too.