Chapter 12
Krystal
Three days without much sleep was less a badge of honor and more a slow slide into madness.
At five a.m., the world outside was motionless, every branch shivering with the threat of frost. Inside, my body buzzed with an energy that wasn’t strength, but the frantic flicker of something burning itself out.
I hadn’t seen Zaden much at the bar the last few days. He was giving me space while reminding me that he was there when I was ready. I had no clue what to even say to him. I felt stupid for not realizing that he was my one-night stand.
Bryce’s father. God, what a mess. I’ve gone from freaked out to pissed off. If what Zaden said about my mother putting a spell on me was true, then the woman had some questions to answer. Only she wasn’t answering my calls.
Figures.
Bryce entered the living room and blinked at me, hair stuck up in five directions. "Why are you up?"
I shrugged, pretending it was nothing. "Couldn’t sleep."
He yawned so hard his jaw cracked. "Can I have cereal?"
"Knock yourself out." I followed him to the kitchen, studying every movement. He poured the milk. He yawned again, a big wolfy sound, then settled in front of the TV with his bowl and switched to cartoons.
He looked normal. He sounded normal. But I couldn’t shake the certainty that I was missing something, that there was a timer running somewhere, ticking down to disaster.
The phone lit up on the countertop, screen buzzing with Zaden’s name. Not a call, he’d scaled those back after the first day, no doubt advised by one of his more rational clanmates. Now it was two texts a day, maximum.
Morning Beautiful. Hope today is better. I’m here if you want to talk. No pressure.
The lack of pressure was pressure, in its own way. I flipped the phone face down. Why did he have to be so patient? I should talk to him, tell him that he was Bryce’s dad. Hell, I hadn’t even told my best friend. Every time I talked to Tavi, I chickened out. Same with Nathan.
I poured myself a cup of coffee and sipped it as I watched Bryce. He was lost in the glow of the TV, shoveling Lucky Charms into his mouth with a rhythm so methodical I almost envied it.
After a few minutes, he squinted at me over the couch. "Are you mad?"
The question caught me off-guard. "No, bud. Why?"
"You look mad. You’re staring."
I tried to soften my expression. "Not mad. Just tired."
He nodded, satisfied with that, and turned back to the screen.
At seven, I packed his lunch, a peanut butter sandwich, an apple, and the last of the Goldfish crackers as I tried to ignore the tremor in my hands.
I must've checked the sandwich bag three times, searching for… I don’t know, dragon scales?
The urge to laugh or scream was strong, but I tamped it down with more coffee.
Bryce appeared in the doorway, clutching his backpack. "Is it okay if Rissa picks me up today? She’s taking Elle and me to the skate park."
"That’s fine," I said too brightly. "Just remember your helmet this time."
He rolled his eyes, then paused, serious. "You sure you’re not mad?"
"Promise, baby." I forced a smile. "I just have a lot on my mind."
He hesitated, like he wanted to ask more, then shrugged and went to dig out his shoes. While he bent over, tying them, I leaned against the counter and tried to breathe.
The sound of a car pulling in the drive gave me the perfect out. "Rissa is here. I’ll see you tonight."
He hugged me, arms tight around my neck, then bounded out the door. I watched him go and waved at Rissa before closing the door. Then I slumped against the wood and let myself shake for a few seconds. I opened the phone again and stared at Zaden’s text.
I don’t know what came over me, but I typed back.
I’ll meet you at the Stock Creek Coffee Shop at 3 today.
The response was immediate.
I’ll be there. Thank you.
I set the phone down, the sense of dread shifting to a numb, floating panic. I had to tell him.
I called Z’s Place, half-hoping for voicemail, but Angel picked up. Her tone was brisk but not unkind.
"Hey, it’s me," I said, scratching at a spot on my sleeve. "I need another day. Family emergency."
She didn’t ask questions. "Just come in when you’re ready. We’ll hold the fort."
I thanked her and hung up, the guilt settling heavier on my shoulders.
For the next hour, I cleaned. I scrubbed the mugs, washed the plates, wiped down every surface in the kitchen, then circled the rest of the house, picking up stray socks and yesterday’s homework. It didn’t help. I couldn’t scrub away the feeling that my life was one wrong step from falling apart.
When the clock inched past two, I showered and put on clean jeans and a blue sweater. I brushed my hair and tied it back, then spent an inordinate amount of time staring at myself in the mirror, searching for evidence that I was still me.
I glanced at the photo of Bryce and me on the sideboard, taken last year at the county fair. He wore a Superman shirt and had a chocolate stain on his chin. I wore the tired, hopeful smile of someone who believed things would get easier.
Maybe they still could.
I checked my watch. 2:35. The coffee shop was a twenty-minute drive.
I grabbed my keys, locked the door, and stepped outside, leaving the house behind me and all the broken promises with it.
The coffee shop was only half full, but I still mapped every person in it before picking a seat.
I took the corner with my back to the wall, from which I could track the exits.
The table was covered in someone else’s latte rings, which I wiped with a napkin out of habit, then spent the next five minutes methodically shredding the napkin into confetti.
The jitter in my hands was partly nerves, partly the caffeine I’d mainlined before leaving the house. I’d spent the whole drive rehearsing what I’d say to Zaden.
He arrived right on time, and I had to fight a groan at seeing him. He wore jeans and a black tee. Man, he looked good.
He locked gazes with me instantly and smiled. For a moment I wondered if I should stand, hug him, or pretend to check my phone, but my limbs had decided to mutiny, and nothing moved.
He slid into the chair opposite me. For a few seconds, we stared at each other. The hum of the espresso machine, the hiss of steam, the distant laugh from the barista, all of it felt a million miles away.
"Hey," he said, finally.
"Hey."
Neither of us reached for a handshake or a smile. He looked at the pile of napkin shreds, then nodded at the counter. "You want a cup?" he asked.
"I’m good." I paused, recalibrating. "You?"
He shrugged. "Already had too much."
After a few more moments, he said, "I talked to Vivienne again. She’s certain there’s a suppression spell on you."
He let that hang between us. I reached for my cup, even though it was empty. "Like a mind-control thing?"
He shook his head. "Not mind control. More like insulation. It dulls certain connections. Suppresses others."
I tried to picture it. "So, what, I’m walking around with a magical condom on my soul?"
His mouth twitched, but he didn’t laugh. "Not a bad analogy."
I gripped the edge of the table. "That doesn’t make sense. My mom's a hardass, but she isn't evil. She's not cruel."
Zaden leaned forward, elbows on the table. "She could have been thinking she was protecting you."
I chewed that over, wanting to throw the words back at him. Instead, I sat there, jaw clenched so hard it ached.
For a second, I wanted to tell him about Bryce, to just blurt it, dump the secret on the table and watch it shatter everything.
But my brain was too busy flipping through a thousand memories of my mother, trying to see if there were clues I’d missed.
Why would she do this and kick me out of the house?
"She never told me," I said, more to myself than to him. "Not once."
Something angry and jagged scraped through my chest. "So all this time, you thought I was just immune? To you, to the bond? Which makes sense that I don’t sense the bond because I’m spelled."
He looked away, out the window, at a woman loading groceries into the trunk of a sedan. "I couldn't figure out why you didn't feel it. I was going to talk to you about it soon anyway, but then Vivienne told me what she sensed."
I let the silence stretch. "You should have told me about the bond sooner." Not that I had any room to judge him. I had an enormous secret I couldn't bring myself to tell him.
He nodded, face stony. "I didn’t know you were spelled. I assumed you were just guarding yourself from heartbreak or something."
That would have blocked the mating urge even though logically, I knew my wolf wouldn’t pick a mate that wasn’t made for us.
A long minute passed, both of us staring at the table. "If I want it gone, what do I do, do you know?"
He shrugged, as if the answer were obvious. "Vivienne says only Eleanor can remove the spell, so we go to her. We get answers. Make her break the spell."
The last time I’d seen my mother was when she kicked me out for being pregnant at nineteen. I didn’t want to see her again. I didn’t want her in my life, or Bryce’s, or anyone’s. But I wanted my own damn feelings back, and I wanted to be free.
"We’ll go Thursday," I said. "I'm off and Bryce has stuff every day this week other than that."
He didn’t hesitate. "I’ll drive."
I was about to tell him he didn’t have to come, but the words refused to form. Instead, I nodded, my throat tight.
He stood and waited for me to do the same. I slung my bag over my shoulder, nerves fluttering in my stomach.
At the door, he stepped aside, letting me pass first. We walked in silence to the lot. He paused by my car, his hand hovering in the air between us.
"I meant it," he said. "Whatever happens, I’m not walking away."
I wanted to say I wanted him to, but it would have been a lie. Instead, I said, "One disaster at a time." I'd tell him about his son after we dealt with the block. One disaster at a time.
He gave a half-smile. "Fair."
I got in the car, started the engine, and watched him through the window as he walked away. He didn’t look back.
On the drive home, I kept replaying the words. Suppression, insulation, hobbled. I’d spent my whole life thinking I was broken, when the truth was, I’d been kept on ice. How long had I had this spell on me? Since childhood? High school?
The thought made me angry, but it also made me feel, just a little, hopeful. If it could be undone, maybe I’d finally get to be myself. For real, not just the half-version that had survived until now.
As I pulled up to the house, I spotted Bryce’s bike on the porch, a fresh streak of mud on the tires. I felt the old fear creep back, but for the first time in days, I didn’t let it win.
I’d tell Zaden the rest, when I was ready. I’d tell Bryce, too.
But first, I’d get my freedom back.
One disaster at a time.