Chapter 54 – WRAITH #2
I drop onto the edge of the bed, elbows on my knees, head buried in my hands, digging my fingers into my head through the thick hood of my sweatshirt and letting out a guttural groaning growl. The mask feels thicker, choking, like it's going to kill me, but taking it off is not an option.
Ivy settles beside me.
Feel her on the bed.
Feel her warm thigh pressed against mine.
Feel her palm rubbing my back through my shirt in big, firm circles.
"What happened?" she asks again, softly.
I release my grip on my head to sign, movements sharp. N-E-W… D-O-C-T-O-R.
"They didn't warn you in advance?" Thane says, and there's an edge to his voice that means he's pissed on my behalf.
NO. I shake my head and sign it so forcefully my hand cuts through the air.
"Were you getting anything done?" Thane asks. "Or was it just a checkup?"
I would have gotten injections. Fucking hate needles, but the scars are too tight along the left side of my neck. The scars ache on the right side of where my cheek used to be before my fucking stepfather dumped acid on my face.
I ignore him.
None of his fucking business.
"Did you need to go?" Thane presses.
Always pressing.
Always pushing.
Never knows when to stop.
"If you were getting injections, you have to go back," Thane insists, and now he's using his captain voice.
FUCK the injections. My signs are getting bigger, angrier. Don't need them.
"Bullshit," Thane snaps back.
I'm FINE.
"You are not fine! You're my brother, I can tell you're in fucking pain. Your scars—"
A gentle hand touches my arm in mid-sign, cutting through our escalating argument, and arms wrap around my neck and shoulders.
Ivy.
"Would it help if I came with you?" she asks softly, her breath whispering against my ear as she holds me from behind.
Can't process the question.
Can't think past the way her arms feel around me, warm and safe and everything I don't deserve. The honeysuckle scent of her wraps around me like she's trying to shield me from my own demons.
Come with me?
To the clinic?
Where she's guaranteed to see my face?
Fuck no.
My hands shake as I sign back to her. No. Can't.
I need the injections. Know I do. The pain's been getting worse for weeks, making it hard to sleep, hard to eat, hard to exist.
But I can't do it when it would skyrocket the chances of her seeing my face. Not when I'm already hanging on by a thread so thin it might snap if someone breathes on it wrong.
"Wraith—" Thane starts, but I cut him off with a sharp gesture.
Can't today. Can't.
Ivy's arms tighten around me from behind, and I feel her press a kiss to the back of my head. "It's okay," she whispers. "You don't have to do anything you're not ready for."
My chest cracks open at her understanding. No pushing. No demanding explanations. Just acceptance of where I'm at, broken and fucked up as that is.
I turn slightly, catching her eyes over my shoulder. My hands move slowly, carefully.
My M-O-M.
She tilts her head, watching.
W-I-L-L… Y-O-U… C-O-M-E?
Ivy's eyes soften, and she nods without hesitation.
"Of course I'll come." She squeezes me a little harder. "And then we'll come back here and watch more terrible movies and eat even more terrible pizza."
Hope flickers in my chest.
Maybe today won't break me completely after all.
When I finally fucking manage to calm down, she follows me to the car. Lets me get the passenger's side door for her. Takes my offered hand even if she doesn't need it to hop in.
Somehow, the complete silence between us on the drive to the care facility isn't awkward.
It's... comfortable.
Like she knows I can't handle words right now.
Can barely handle existing.
Her honeysuckle scent fills the SUV, cutting through the panic that's been crawling under my skin all day. Her hand stays wrapped around mine the entire hour-long drive, her thumb drawing small circles on my scarred palm through the leather of my glove.
Such a delicate hand in mine.
Soft where mine is rough and ruined.
The memory care facility is in a healthier part of Cedarbrook that hasn't been eaten away by the town's failing economy. I would rather my mother live closer to the pack house, but she would never agree to that.
Cedarbrook is her home.
The only home she's ever known.
I pull into the parking lot of the flower shop next to the care facility and cut the engine.
"For your mom?" Ivy asks.
I nod. Always bring flowers. Started as a way to have something to do with my hands during visits, and because my mother liked them.
Now it's just... routine. Habit. Something normal in all the fucked up abnormal.
The shop smells like earth and green things, that heavy floral scent that makes my eyes water even through the mask.
Floral scents and alphas don't mix well.
The elderly woman behind the counter recognizes me—hard not to when you're seven-foot-three and wearing a mask—but she doesn't say anything. Just nods. We have an understanding.
I move toward the pre-made bouquets while Ivy wanders deeper into the shop. Pink roses today.
My mother used to grow them in our backyard, before…
"Wraith?" Ivy's voice pulls me from the spiral and I glance up, blinking the blurry vision away. She's standing by a display of stuffed animals, holding a small brown teddy bear with a pink bow. "Do you think she'd like this?"
The question catches me off guard. I nod, heading for the checkout counter. Can't manage more than that. Sometimes my mother gets set off by anything new, but Ivy herself is new, so if it's going to be that kind of day, a plush bear won't make a difference.
Outside, cherry trees line the walkway to the care facility. Pink petals drift down like snow, catching in Ivy's hair and in the fibers of her cream-colored scarf. She stops walking, tugging gently on my hand.
"You need a minute?"
Fuck yes, I need a minute.
Need a year.
Need a lifetime.
But I just nod, moving to lean against one of the trees. The rough bark presses through my hoodie, grounding me in the present instead of the past that's trying to drag me under.
Ivy stands in front of me, still holding my hand. Cherry blossoms swirl around her like she stepped out of a dream.
Too beautiful.
Too perfect to be standing here with me.
"What are we going to tell her?" she asks. "About who I am?"
Good fucking question.
Haven't thought that far ahead.
Can barely think past the next breath.
My free hand moves slowly. F-R-I-E-N-D? I suggest, then add, I-F... Y-O-U... W-A-N-T.
She smiles, this soft thing that makes my chest ache. "Is that what you want?"
The question hangs between us.
Cherry petals keep falling, one landing on her shoulder. I reach out to brush it away, my massive scarred hand looking obscene next to her delicate neck.
What do I want?
I want to run. Want to die, sometimes. Want to protect her from seeing what I really am, what my own mother sees when she looks at me.
But I also want... more.
Things I don't deserve.
Want her to be mine.
Want to be hers.