Chapter 10
Ten
Edison
M y captain at the station hadn’t been happy when I’d told him I needed to take a few weeks’ leave, but considering I hadn’t had even taken a single sick day over the last three years, he’d eventually relented.
I didn’t think I needed to be here at the house, but that didn’t mean I didn’t want to be here. I’d picked up a giant bag of carrots from the grocery store and was currently bribing the goats away from my mom’s azaleas. They were greedy little bastards, and two of the three were currently running at me like a stampede.
As I snapped a carrot in half, it made a louder than usual cracking sound. One of the goats let out a fearful bleat, went stiff, and fell over. I waited for it to stand back up, but nothing happened. A minute went by, and it stayed prone on the ground.
Fuck.
“Oh shit… Oh fuck!” I rushed over, but it was like the animal had rigor mortis. “Please tell me you’re a fainting goat, and don’t have some kind of neurological disorder,” I muttered, trying to put the goat back on its feet, but it just toppled to the side again. Its little friend seemed completely uninterested in the fact its compatriot was having a medical episode, just fishing a whole carrot out of the bag that I’d dropped.
“Come on, little guy. Get up,” I hissed, but it was literally immobile and unblinking. Did it have epilepsy? Was it a Russian sleeper spy, and I’d just activated it with a carrot snap?
Fuck, five minutes, and I’ve already killed one of Tillie’s pets. Maybe I needed to go back to work, where I could stay out of the way.
“Do I need to take you to the vet?” I asked the goat, like it would answer me.
What was the acronym for resuscitating a goat? Was it the same as for a human? They’d drilled the ABCs into us at the academy—it couldn’t be that different, right? It was still a mammal.
A was for airways, but I couldn’t pry the goat’s mouth open without sticking my thumbs at the back of its snout. It was gross, but I had to try. What if it was choking on a piece of carrot, or maybe it had been poisoned by azaleas? Should I Google if they were poisonous to goats?
I couldn’t see anything lodged, and I could feel its hot breath, so I thought it was probably breathing and didn’t need mouth-to-mouth. Probably ruled out compressions too.
There was a choking noise behind me, and I spun to see an amused-looking Tillie. Guilt washed over me. “I think I injured your goat. Can they eat azaleas? How do you check a goat for poisoning?”
She looked beautiful today, in tight, faded jeans with a hole in the knee, and a white camisole that showed the golden tan of her skin. She wasn’t dressed up, or dressed down. She just looked like everyday Tillie, and that’s what made wanting her so damn hard.
I gave her a stern look. “Don’t stand there and laugh! What if something’s really wrong with it?”
Shaking her head, she patted me on the back. “The only thing wrong with Scaramouche is that you’re traumatizing the hell out of her by sticking your fingers in her mouth. If you just step over here for a minute…” She led me a few feet away, then after a few seconds, the damn goat perked right up.
“For fuck’s sake. Why didn’t you do that in the first place?” I muttered at the goat, who happily joined its friend. “Wait, did you say its name is Scaramouche? What kind of name is that?”
She shrugged. “Her friend over there is Beelzebub, and over near the fountain is Fandango. She just doesn’t like people very much.”
“Their names are Scaramouche, Fandango, and Beelzebub? Whatever happened to Daisy and Milly?”
Rolling her eyes at me, Tillie went over and scratched Beelzebub behind its floppy ears, as it chewed on the pilfered carrots. “Boring. Life’s too short for that.”
I kept a wide berth from the goats. Obviously, they weren’t my biggest fans, and I’d traumatized Scaramouche enough for one day. Or maybe she’d traumatized me. “I’ve taken a few weeks off work. I was due some holiday leave, and it looks like you could use a hand.”
She gave me a stubborn look that I knew all too well. “I can handle my responsibilities just fine.”
I raised an eyebrow at her. “So can I.”
“I’m not your responsibility,” she snapped, and I lifted my hands.
“Whoa, I never said you were.”
She let out a frustrated noise. “But you insinuated it. Don’t gaslight me, butthead.”
I sighed, because she was right. I was fucking this up. “Otillie-James, you are the most capable person I know. I’m kind of glad you’re a good person, because I have no doubt that if you had a villain origin story, you could’ve raised an army to bring down nations by now.” She frowned at me, but I saw the corners of her lips twitch up. “Honestly, I need a break. Plus, I did a head count, and Tillie, you have thirty-seven animals here. You need help, and that’s okay.”
She shrugged. “I’ve got Lance.”
I didn’t want to say that he was the other reason I was staying, because it’d offend them both, but it still hung in the air between us. “Well, now you’ll have me too.”
I also didn’t say that she looked tired. I’d thought it had just been from staying up all night at the police station, but really, she didn’t look much more rejuvenated today. She was clearly burning the candle at both ends, and we could both use the rest.
She shrugged. “It’s your house.”
I reached out and gripped her forearm. “Stop that. It’s your house too. When Buck married my mom, this became his home and yours. I hate that you still feel like a guest here.” Her skin was so soft under my fingers, and it felt almost electrified. I spent so much time trying not to touch her that these small actions, these inconsequential brushes, felt like so much more. Her head tilted softly to the side, and I wanted to put my mark right there for the world to see.
In a different world, she would be mine.
When she looked down at where my hand was holding her arm, I released it quickly, hoping she couldn’t see me flush. Her own cheeks were pink, and I tried to tell myself it was from anger, not from anything else. Because if it were anything else…
God. How could I resist her?
How could I look her father in the eye again?
How could I look anyone in the eye again?
She was my stepsister. We sat down to Christmas mornings together. We celebrated birthdays. The society gossips wouldn’t care that I hadn’t met her until we were almost adults. They wouldn’t care that we weren’t physically related in any way, shape or form. Along with the fact that she was Unshown, it would be a scandal, and I wasn’t sure anyone would forgive me for it.
I almost didn’t care.
She chewed on her lip. “Come on. If you’re going to hang around all the time, I’ll teach you how to feed the kittens. They need feeding at least every three hours, and I think both Lance and I would appreciate the help.”
That was a big admission, and I couldn’t help the smile that spread over my face. “It would be my pleasure, Tillie.”
We walked slowly back toward the house, and just being with her made my heart happy. I followed along as she told me about her day. About what the vet had said about the chicken she’d saved. About her run-in with Truett and how he’d gotten the charges dropped. About Strat Wilmington, who was an Omega and an assistant district attorney.
I noted how her eyes sparkled as she said Strat’s name, and I tried to curb my jealousy. I wasn’t an idiot; she wasn’t going to be single forever, though both Truett and I had done a pretty admirable job of chasing off potential boyfriends during her high school years. Since then, she’d had a few, but no one seemed to last more than a few months.
I thanked the universe for small mercies, because seeing her in love with someone else would be like putting my balls in a vice and squeezing every single time. It made my Alpha irrationally angry. I’d have to move to Antarctica or Australia, just so I didn’t have to see someone else making her happy.
She stopped at the tree, the infamous one that she’d fallen out of all those years ago, changing my life. “You know, there’s still a nest of squirrels up there. I think they’re the same ones, or at least their offspring.”
I laughed, looking up at the very top branches where I’d found her. She’d been so stubborn, and I’d been so fucking scared. When she’d fallen, my heart had stopped. It had been the longest ten seconds of my life, watching her hit every damn branch on the way down.
I raised an eyebrow. “Rumor has it they still pad out their nests with periwinkle-blue Vera Wang.”
“Bougie.” She stopped, chewing her lip and looking up at me, and my whole world stopped once more. She was staring at me like I was her hero, with her big blue eyes staring right into my very soul, capturing it as her own. “You know, I don’t think I ever properly said thank you for climbing up there and rescuing me all those years ago. If you hadn’t helped me, I might still be there.”
Stepping closer—because I had no choice; I was being pulled as if magnetized—I gave her a soft smile. “No, you would have made it down. You’re too resourceful not to handle yourself. I have total faith in your abilities, Tillie. I just also know that even if you need it, you won’t ever ask for help.”
We were close now. Too close. Her lips were parted, and my eyes kept being dragged back down to their pillowy softness. What would happen if I just leaned down and took them with my own?
Her tongue darted out, wetting her lower lip, and I bit back a groan. I dragged my eyes back to hers. I wanted to interpret the look in them as desire too, but I couldn’t be sure. And I couldn’t ruin everything, just because I’d judged wrong.
She cleared her throat a little. “Thank you.” Her voice was soft and a little rough, and I shook myself out of my daze.
If I wasn’t reading her signals wrong—if she wanted me too—would I really risk everything just to be with her?
The answer was easy and immediate.
Absolutely.
I needed to speak to Truett.