Chapter 9 Dray
NINE
DRAY
I arrived at dawn in my truck and pulled out a camping chair and an old cooler, plus a sign. After propping the latter against the porch steps where Pax would see it, I stood back and read it.
I waited eight years. If you want me to stay away forever, tell me.
I had to show him that he had agency and I’d disappear if he gave the word. How ironic that I’d longed to leave town and now I might be forced to if Pax wanted nothing to do with me.
Tiny tendrils of smoke from my dragon curled from my nostrils as I set up the chair with a view to the turret windows. The air was chilly, and I was glad of my puffy jacket.
Just knock on the door.
He told me to stay away. I reasoned that camping out in his yard was giving him space and hoped it didn’t antagonize him further.
I pulled out a thermos of coffee and poured a cup. Above me the turret windows were dark, so either I was mistaken and he was in his bed and didn’t give a damn about me or he was asleep. Or perhaps he was peeking out and I couldn’t see him. I hoped it was the latter.
The place where the tattoo sat on my shoulder was aching, and I wondered if Pax’s tattoo was doing the same.
The town woke up around me and cars went past as people made their way to work and school. I didn’t look at them, but by lunchtime, every inhabitant would know I was camped out in June Bartholomew’s yard. But I didn’t care. The only person I did care about was not talking to me.
Around eight, I got up and paced over the grass. I wasn’t used to just sitting and doing nothing. Instead, I checked what needed doing in the yard. None of the fenceposts needed replacing, but with the recent rain, the grass needed mowing again.
I should bring the mower tomorrow. Wow. I’d already accepted that I'd be here another day, but I didn’t want to take time off to go home and shower or grab a coffee.
My intention was to show Pax I was committed to being here until he was ready to talk.
But whether I’d like what he might say was debatable.
One of the curtains I’d help Pax hang in the turret twitched. Both my dragon and I noted the slight movement.
He’s watching.
Or getting ready to turf me out or throw a bucket of ice water on my head.
I pulled out the book in my jacket pocket and pretended to be reading, not that I could focus on the words. If Pax was looking, I wanted to appear non-threatening, though I had invaded his garden.
By lunchtime I was starving and got the sandwiches I’d made early this morning. In the midday light, they didn’t look appetizing, but I forced myself to eat one and washed it down with water that had gone warm in the sun.
The afternoon dragged on, and I checked my watch multiple times.
I fixed the roller door that hadn’t closed all the way, which took twenty minutes.
It was something to do with my hands at least. Pax could now park inside and lock the door, though in this town, there wasn’t much need for it. But that was assuming he stayed.
That thought had me slumping back on the chair and putting my head in my hands.
What if this doesn’t work? And don’t say “Storm the building.”
My dragon didn't respond, and that scared me more than his usual demands.
The sun set and the temperature dropped. I'd brought a sleeping bag, and I spread it out in the truck bed, climbed in, and zipped it up to my chin. I stared at the bright stars overhead and thought about Pax in the turret doing the same thing when he was a kid.
He’d made wishes, and I closed my eyes and made one of my own.
I didn’t sleep well and opened my eyes every hour. From here, I couldn’t tell if there was a light in Pax’s bedroom, as he’d told me he was still sleeping in the same room he had as a child.
The next day began with rain. At first it was a light shower, but it got heavier and I was soon drenched.
Scales are much better than skin in the rain.
No way was I shifting, and I told my beast to cool it. He was warm and cozy.
I stayed in the chair and pulled my hood up as I hunched over to avoid the worst of the wind.
This is silly. Humans don’t do this.
How can you forget that you and I are not human?
My dragon took a snooze after that, saying I was ridiculous.
I was shivering an hour later, with water dripping off my nose and running down the back of my neck. I should have brought a tarp, but I hadn't thought that far ahead.
A truck pulled into the driveway and Dad got out. He held an umbrella over both of us as he stood beside my chair.
“Dray, is this wise?” He glanced up at the turret.
“Perhaps not, but I have to show Pax I’m committed to working this out.” Or he told me to get lost.
Dad crouched at my side. “And what if he doesn’t come out?”
“I’ll wait.”
“For how long?”
“However long it takes.”
He sighed. “Pops is worried and so is the rest of the family.”
“Tell them I’m fine.”
“You’re not.”
I glanced at him. “What am I supposed to do? He’s my mate.”
He nodded and put a hand on my shoulder. “But you can’t force this.”
“I’m just here. He can ignore me, but I’m not leaving him. If he wants me to go, he can say it and I’ll be outta here.”
Dad got a thermos out of his truck. “Soup.” He left me the umbrella and a raincoat, not that they were of any use now. My dragon sent a wave of heat through me which helped a little, but what I needed wasn’t dry clothes or a soft mattress. I needed Pax.
“We love you.” He waved. “June would be proud of you.”
I choked up and blinked hard against the water running into my eyes.
The rain finally stopped around dinnertime, but I was too cold and wet to care.
I peeled off my jacket and wrung it out and did the same with my shirt.
My jeans were plastered to my legs, and my boots squished as I plodded over the saturated grass.
I should have gone home and changed, but I'd promised myself I wouldn't.
This second night was worse than last night because I was so wet. Every time I closed my eyes, I saw Pax’s face when my dragon took his scales. He might never forgive me, and if he didn’t, I’d lose him.
My dragon curled up in my chest. My melancholy had gotten to him too.
Dawn on the third day was cold, but the rain had gone. I’d hardly slept, and my clothes smelled of damp.
The sign was still there, and though the ink had run in places, the words were still readable. Once I was back in the chair, my head nodded, and I kept jerking back when I opened my eyes.
But I must have dozed off because a voice beside me was saying something.
“Dray.”
I almost fell out of the chair as I flung myself forward.
“You’re going to catch a cold.”
Pax was standing three feet away holding a blanket and a mug of something steamy. He put the mug down and wrapped the blanket around my shoulders. His eyes were red as if he’d been crying, and I cursed that I had probably been the reason he was sad.
“This is the third day you’ve been here.”
I wasn’t sure how to respond, but I told him I would have stayed longer.
“That’s what I suspected, and it’s the reason I came out.”
“I’m sorry my dragon scared you. I should have explained better.”
“I’ve been in the turret watching you eat, sleep, and fix my garage door. Who does that?”
“Someone who’s been waiting eight years.”
“I don’t understand any of this, but I can’t stop thinking about you, even though the whole dragon thing terrified me.”
My beast urged me to say something, but Pax needed to express what he was feeling.
“Come inside and get warm and we can talk.”
“Okay.” For the first time since we’d met, I let myself believe that we could work this out.
He took my arm and led me to the house. When we reached the sign, he picked it up.
“You can throw that away.”
Pax tucked it under his arm. “Nah, I think I’ll keep it.”