Chapter 28
Chapter Twenty-Eight
My brain is fried. No, it’s beyond fried. It’s burnt to a tiny, black crisp, and it’s useless. My books are scattered around me, and the scrap paper I’ve been using for notes is a blur of half-sentences and bullet points.
I straighten my spine, stretching my back. It provides momentary relief, but the pain returns as soon as I relax. I’ve spent an entire day holed up in my apartment, hunched over these books. It’s been insightful.
I rub my eyes, trying to remove the blur.
I should take a break, but I’m not sure what else to do with myself. Caleb kept me busy. We spent most days in his office, and evenings were spent cuddling on the couch. I don’t have any other hobbies.
I touch my cheek, remembering Sash’s slap.
Perhaps I’ll go for a run. HPAW provided me with an expansive indoor gym, and I always enjoyed running. I haven’t partaken since meeting Caleb, primarily because of my injuries, but it might help burn some of my pent-up energy.
Doctor Greg hasn’t cleared me for that level of exercise, but he can fuck off. I’m losing my mind here. Besides, with the rapidly cooling temperatures, it won’t be long before the sidewalks are covered in snow and running is no longer an option.
I dig through my closet, searching for clothing suitable for running. I don’t have many options, but I find a pair of loose pants and a long-sleeved shirt that will work. It’s not the best material, but it’ll have to do.
The streets are mostly empty, and I avoid making eye contact with the few shifters outside. I focus on running. Daniel was big on form. He was always shouting corrections whenever I was unlucky enough to be in the gym at the same time as him.
I replay them in my head, not wanting to make an ass of myself in front of the shifters. They’re naturally athletic, and I care too much about what they think of me. I used to run upward of ten miles a day back at the facility, but I grow winded after only a few minutes.
Still, it feels good. My mind is empty for the first time in days.
I cut right once I reach the end of the street, purposefully heading away from the town’s center. It’s a cowardly move, but one I refuse to feel bad about. I’ll find the courage to face the shifters soon, just not today.
I run until I’m pretty sure I’m about to die, then turn and take the same path back.
Left foot. Right foot.
I’m panting, my breath visible in the frigid air. This was a mistake. I’m going to die, and my ribcage is pulsating with every beat of my heart. Not to mention that my hands have gone numb.
I shake them out as I round the final corner leading to my apartment building, too distracted to notice the shifter exiting the pottery studio.
It’s a teenage girl, and she clutches a paper bag to her chest as she easily maneuvers around me.
My reflexes aren’t quite as quick, especially after my run, and I let out a quiet squeak as I dart around her.
She continues past me, and I awkwardly turn toward the front door of my apartment.
I’m looking over my shoulder, watching the girl walk away, when I realize I’ve miscalculated the single step leading to the door.
My toe slams into it, and I’m pivoting forward before I can rightsize myself.
My knees and palms hit the concrete, and my forehead bounces off the exterior door.
Fucking dammit.
I scramble up, my face flushed as I slam the fob against the door and shove my way inside. Only once I’m safely out of sight do I touch my stinging forehead. There’s a bit of blood, but it’s nothing concerning.
I feel like a fucking idiot.
I hold the sleeve of my shirt against the small gash, willing it to clot as I head up the stairs. My hand falls to my side as I unlock and step inside my apartment. Caleb’s inside, pacing the length of my kitchen.
He takes one look at me, his nostrils flaring, before closing the distance between us. I hardly have time to react as his hands find my head, tilting it back so he can examine the cut. He doesn’t touch the wound, but he flicks my sweaty baby hairs aside so he can get an unobstructed view.
“What happened?”
I shrug. “I went for a run and ate shit, obviously.”
Caleb’s frown deepens. “You haven’t been cleared to run.”
“I needed to get out of the apartment. Doctor Greg says fresh air is good for me.”
“He also said you should avoid high-intensity exercise.” Caleb grabs my arm, tugging me into the bathroom. He points to the toilet. “Sit.”
His hands clench and unclench at his sides before he pulls out a first-aid kit. I sit obediently on the toilet, confused by his care. Why’s he even here? We haven’t spoken since he dropped off the car keys, which is intentional.
I’m giving him space.
If I’m honest with myself, I need space too. I went from being HPAW’s pawn to Caleb’s mate, and I suppose it would be good for me to figure out who I am beyond them. I should discover myself, or whatever the expression is that people always say.
Caleb pokes and prods at my forehead, his nose crinkling and nostrils flaring. “I didn’t realize I’d need to supply you with a helmet. I’m taking you to the hospital.”
I rise, ignoring his helmet comment as I nudge him aside and look in the mirror above the sink. I’m fine. It’s a minor scrape, and it hardly hurts.
“It looks worse than it feels,” I say. “Head wounds always bleed.”
“I wasn’t asking.”
I meet Caleb’s gaze in the mirror reflection. “Why do you even care?”
My attention shifts to his mark. The color continues to darken, and it’s now a fleshy pink. The edges aren’t smudged as mine now are, but I figure it’s only a matter of time. Our bond is dying before our very eyes.
Caleb already considers it dead, but I’m holding out hope. I shouldn’t. He’s made it abundantly clear that he doesn’t want me, but I’ve always been persistent.
“You may have a concussion,” Caleb insists. He glances at his phone. “I don’t have time for this today.”
“Great,” I snark, “because I don’t have a concussion. What do you know about them, anyway?”
Shifters heal too quickly to suffer from concussions, at least ones with prolonged side effects. It must be nice.
“I’ve been meeting with Greg these past few weeks,” Caleb says, digging through the first aid kit. “He was teaching me about human anatomy and health. I know all about concussions, Evelyn.”
My heart thumps. He was meeting with Doctor Greg? I had no idea. Why did he never mention anything to me?
“I don’t have a concussion,” I assure him. “What are you doing here, anyway?”
Caleb shakes his head. “I thought I’d check in and see how you’re doing after you took it upon yourself to announce to my entire pack that you were a member of HPAW.”
He sounds annoyed, his words sharp, but I don’t regret my decision.
“I’ve decided I no longer wish to live a lie,” I say.
“Good for you. Why was your apartment door unlocked?”
His topic changes are giving me whiplash. “There are only four units in this building,” I say. “And you need a fob to get in the building. I figured it was safe to leave the door unlocked for thirty minutes.”
“It’s not.” Caleb slaps a bandage on my forehead. “Don’t do it again.”
I expect this to be the end of it, but then he’s dragging me out of my apartment and down the stairs. Frigid air smacks me in the face as he shoves open the exterior door.
“What’re you—” I groan as he unlocks the car and forces me into the passenger seat. “I don’t need to go to the hospital, Caleb. I’m fine!”
He doesn’t listen, and fifteen minutes later, he’s storming through the double doors of the hospital’s main entrance. I follow behind him, not bothering to hide my anger. I’m trying to prove that I’m capable of caring for myself, and he’s undermining my work.
“We’re almost there,” Caleb says, sparing me a glance over his shoulder.
I hum. “Great.”
Doctor Greg meets us at the reception desk. He’s wearing his usual attire, black slacks and a button-down shirt with a white coat thrown over it. He shoves his hands in his pockets, his gaze darting between Caleb and me.
“Everything all right?” he asks.
“Evelyn fell.” Caleb jerks a thumb in my direction. “And now she has a concussion.”
“I scraped my forehead,” I correct Caleb. “I’m perfectly fine.”
The corners of Doctor Greg’s lips twitch upward. I can’t help but notice that he’s not looking at me with outward hostility. Even the receptionist sitting nearby remains neutral. If anything, she looks bored, her chin propped into her hand as she taps aimlessly at her computer.
“How’d you fall?” Doctor Greg asks.
I hesitate.
Caleb takes this as his cue to answer. “She went for a run, and she fell.”
Doctor Greg’s budding smile falls. “I told you no high-intensity exercise.”
I throw my hands into the air, but I don’t bother defending myself.
I went for a run and got a small scrape on my forehead.
It’s not the end of the world. My ribcage feels fine, and I hardly feel the cut on my head.
If anything, the small hairs caught underneath the bandage hurt more. They tug when I move my eyebrows.
“Let’s take a look,” Doctor Greg says.
He leads me to a private room down the hallway. Caleb follows, practically clipping my heels with every step. For a man who insists on being done with me, he’s sure showing a lot of concern.
Will people think I’ve done this on purpose to get Caleb’s attention? Will Caleb think that? I wish I had. It’d be much less embarrassing.
Doctor Greg examines my head first, then checks for signs of a concussion. “You’re fine,” he eventually says. “It’s just a scrape.”
I let out a quiet sigh. “Shocker.”
Caleb enters my line of sight, interrupting the conversation. “And her ribs?”
“Also fine. Humans are surprisingly durable, Alpha. Your mate isn’t going to perish from a small head wound.”
We both stiffen at Doctor Greg’s use of the word mate. I wait for Caleb to correct him, I fully expect him to, but he doesn’t. It’s definitely awkward, though.
Doctor Greg excuses himself, and Caleb and I make our way outside.
We’re silent the entire way back to my apartment, and I don’t question Caleb as he walks with me to my unit.
Is he planning to stay? I don’t need a babysitter, and I don’t want his pity.
I want Caleb to be around me because he wants to be, not because he feels obligated to.
He follows me inside my apartment.
“You don’t need to stay,” I assure him.
Caleb hums, flicking through my scrap paper on the kitchen island. He takes time to read over my notes, his expression unreadable. I wish I knew what he was thinking.
“You’re thorough,” he eventually says.
“The subject is important to me.”
Caleb reaches the bottom sheet, the one on mate bonds.
I told myself not to read the books. It’s a waste of time.
Caleb made his decision, and I should respect that.
Still, I couldn’t resist the temptation.
I scanned every page in the two books I was given, and I took more notes than I’d care to admit.
Caleb shuts his eyes. For a brief moment, he looks exhausted, like the weight of the world is on his shoulders.
“Have you found anything?” he asks.
He doesn’t outright ask, but I know what he means. “Not really,” I admit. “Markings are finicky. There isn’t a lot of information on reversing the darkening of one. Mate bonds are annoying.”
Caleb laughs, the noise loud and throaty, before he dips his chin in agreement. “I’ve never heard somebody call mate bonds annoying.”
He continues scanning my notes, pausing when he reaches one of the last pages. “What’s this?”
I shift, peering over his shoulder. “It’s a list of things you like.”
“I’ve gathered that. Why?”
Blood rushes to my cheeks. I wasn’t expecting him to come over, let alone read my notes. Self-preservation has me wanting to lie, but that goes against my recent decision to be truthful.
“I figured if bad things darken the mark,” I start, “then maybe good things will lighten it. I made a list of things you enjoy.”
“Why?”
“As inspiration for ways to win you over.”
Caleb’s gaze flickers down the list. He reads it twice. “You’re persistent,” he finally says. “I’ll give you that.”
“I prefer to say determined.”
Caleb hums. “I’m sure you do.”
He sets the list down. I chew on my bottom lip, not letting him see how disappointed I am by his reaction. I was hoping for more—either positive or negative. He’s giving me nothing more than complete indifference.
I tap my fingers against the counter, drumming them along the surface. “I might have some helpful information on HPAW.”
Caleb quirks a brow. “You’re my mate, Evelyn. They wouldn’t have exposed you to anything they didn’t want me knowing.”
I cross my arms over my chest. He doesn’t know what I know. I spent years in the facility. I’m sure I have some helpful information.
“They’re always running experiments. I’m not allowed inside the lab, but they have impressive technology. Microphones that can pick up sound from a quarter mile away. Chips, but not the kind you eat. Lights that can’t be picked up by—”
“Enough, Evelyn.”
“I know where the facilities are,” I try.
“As do I.” Caleb steps away, putting space between us. “I don’t care to discuss HPAW with you.”
He pulls his phone out of his pocket. It’s vibrating, and he declines the call. Two seconds later, it begins vibrating again. Caleb declines the call once more, then storms to my front door, ripping it open to reveal Logan.
“What do you want?” Caleb asks.
“You to not wander off without telling anybody where you’re going,” Logan snaps. He lowers his voice. “We’ve heard back from…” He shoots me a look. “Our contacts have gotten back to us. We should discuss.”
Caleb’s quick to dismiss him. “Not now.”
“Alpha.…” Logan’s voice is tight. “This is important.”
Caleb rolls his shoulders, pure aggression oozing from him. Logan looks down, breaking eye contact. It’s shocking to see. I’m aware that Caleb’s title was earned through the dominance of his wolf, but he’s friendly with Logan. They’re family.
Caleb turns to me. “Refrain from injuring yourself again.”
I try not to let my disappointment show as he leaves, but the emotion is there. Something is happening with HPAW. It’s been building for weeks. It’s making me anxious.