Chapter Five #2
“Tell me the best thing you’ve ever done.” His expression hasn’t changed, except for the slightest glint in those cold eyes.
I give that one some thought, too. Arguably, the best thing I’ve ever done is to stand up for my cousin when he needed me, except that the reason he needed me is directly related to the worst thing I’ve ever done. “Sometimes I think it’s getting up in the morning and facing another day.”
He nods without a hint of mockery, which is good because I’m not really joking. “And what’s the worst thing?” he asks.
I don’t have to think about that. “I don’t know you well enough. Know that it was bad, worse than you can probably imagine.”
“I’m some six hundred years old. Pretty sure nothing you say will surprise me.”
I give him open palms. “Guess I’m not your guy, then.”
That earns me a sly grin. “Just the opposite, in fact. I like a man who’s met his own shadow. Go home and pack some things. I’ll want you to stay here while we get up and running.”
“You’re joking.”
“Nope.”
“Wow. Okay.” I rake a hand through my hair. It’s still wet and smells like very expensive product. “I don’t have my phone, so I need you to get me an Uber, and . . . I’ll give your offer some thought.”
He pulls a phone out of his shirt pocket. “What’s your number?”
I tell him, and he swipes his screen. “I’ll send you a text so you’ll be able to message me and let me know what you decide.”
“Cool.” Too many thoughts compete for brain space.
I know guys who live in apartments barely bigger than a closet because they spend all their time at work, so his ask—that I stay in this house—isn’t’ all that weird.
I also know guys who are hackers like my friend Ethan who are the type he should most definitely be going for.
Not me.
Glancing up, Sonny extends his hand so we can shake. “Uber’ll be out front in three minutes or so.”
There’s not much more to say after that. I thank him and head for the house’s front porch. The Uber pulls up, a bright red RAV4 with a guy named Sangar behind the wheel. Without saying anything to Rob—or to John, for that matter—I climb in and spend the rest of the ride letting my thoughts go.
Basically, it comes down to a conflict between my loyalty to David and the feeling that I’m just hanging around with him, spinning my wheels.
He tolerates me, and that’s about it. We’re sure as hell not as close as we used to be.
That ship sailed away on a sea of my own failure.
Yet I’m still not one hundred percent sure whether Rob and Sonny and their project is for real or just a line of bullshit.
Because who hacks into Leander de Lisle’s bank account?
The enormity of the idea makes my head hurt.
Should I expect a bunch of ancient supernaturals to think like rational people?
No, but . . . but damn. Hacking into Leander de Lisle’s computer system is the kind of idea dreamed up by someone who doesn’t actually know how any of this works.
On a scale of one to ten, with one being simple and ten being impossible, it’s an eleven.
The best I’d be able to do is to keep them from getting into any more trouble than absolutely necessary.
That’s me being altruistic, and has nothing to do with the feeling that, under the right circumstances, there could be something between me and John.
My gut says that with all the smoke he’s blowing, there’s a fire under there somewhere.
Yeah, I need to shake that shit right off.
I’m better off worrying about how long it’s going to take to get from South Pasadena to the house in the Hollywood Hills.
The digital clock on the dashboard says it’s about two thirty in the afternoon, which means we’re in normally heavy traffic rather than excruciatingly heavy traffic.
At any speed, I’ve got time to fall down a rabbit hole of my own making.
I probably shouldn’t get involved with a project that might not be entirely legal, no matter how good Sonny’s approval feels or how charming Rob is. At best, what they propose is obviously illegal and absolutely impossible.
Okay, decision made. The answer is no. I’ll text Sonny as soon as I get ahold of my phone.
And oh, by the way, how did I end up there in the first place?
I ran.
I shifted and I ran. Forty miles. Away from my friends, my temporary pack. I have no idea what would have made me do that.
My memory doesn’t usually suck, but I cannot pierce the shadow covering everything from our arrival at our campsite—I remember pitching my tent under a twisted evergreen that looked like it got beat up by too many windstorms—to the moment the rising sun woke me.
It’s like something’s blocking me, even if it’s only my subconscious protecting me from myself.
Because it’s not entirely impossible I did something that forced David to send me away. Abby said they were looking for me, and she wouldn’t lie. Unless her alpha brother told her to.
Fuck.
With that in mind, I’m hoping David isn’t home when I get there, so of course he’s the first person I see when I come through the door.
“What the actual fuck?” He takes the last few steps of the broad staircase at a run, stopping on a dime about two feet from me.
He’s wearing booty shorts and a tattered Ramones tee, his bleached blond hair in braided pigtails.
Back in the day I would have said something snarky about his style—or lack thereof.
Now, I simply shrug. “It’s been a day.”
“Hey,” Abby hollers from the top of the stairs. “Cliffe, he’s back.”
David reaches out, and for a heartbeat, I think he’s going to hug me. Instead, he rests a hand on my arm. Wolves need physical contact no matter how complicated the emotions are. “Where have you been?”
Abby and Cliffe pound down the stairs, stopping right behind David.
They’re both working a hippie/beach vibe, with flowered dresses, bare feet, and lots of beaded necklaces.
Abby is dark, like me—and like David would be if he wasn’t addicted to peroxide—and Cliffe has light brown hair that’s been sun-bleached to a streaky blond.
“Why are you dressed like a pirate?” Abby asks, and my cheeks grow even hotter at her echo of John’s words.
“He’s got more than weird clothes to answer for,” David says. His hand on my arm is growing warm, as if he’s about to go full alpha on me.
I try to keep my response lighthearted. “You’d know from weird clothes.”
That earns me a hard glare. Yeah, he’s pulling the alpha thing. As I ease half a step away—mostly to get out of his grasp—I bow my head to make it clear I know who’s boss.
Tension vibrates between us until Abby steps around her brother and gives me a hug.
I don’t understand why she’s kind to me when she should be loyal to her brother.
The only thing I can come up with is that she’s a beta like me, so that makes her more sympathetic when maybe she shouldn’t be.
Whatever the reason, I’m too grateful to protest.
“Let’s go into the big room and you can tell us what the fuck happened to you.” She steps back, holding me at arm’s length and giving me a once-over. “Gotta say, you’re working those ruffles.”
Cliffe comes over and runs her finger along my sleeve. “This is real silk. What? You run away and join the circus?”
With one hand on Cliffe and the other on Abby, I give them the best smile I can muster. “Come on, and I’ll tell you what I can.”
We move to the oversized living room with its leather couches and enormous windows overlooking downtown LA and out to the Pacific.
Sunlight pours through them, and before she sits, Abby lowers a shade so we all don’t bake.
David is the last to join us, and I know him well enough to guess that he took a minute to get himself under control.
But is he upset because I left him or because I came back?
The two couches face each other, perpendicular to the window and slightly angled to make a V. Abby and David take one while Cliffe and I sit on the other. She continues patting my sleeve, that light contact doing a lot to calm me.
“So,” Abby says, fingers twisted in one of her longer beaded necklaces.
“So,” I echo her, staring at my knees, mind scrambling to figure out how to come at this. I can feel them all staring at me, so I need to say something. I go for honest—to a point. “I remember setting up my tent, then nothing until this morning.”
David huffs, like he’s warming up to tell me why I’m wrong, until Abby shuts him down with a raised hand. “Let him talk. If you start, he’ll shut up.”
Which is true but leaves me feeling even less comfortable. As if she can sense that, Cliffe gives my arm a firmer stroke. Cliffe’s from somewhere out by Joshua Tree, and she doesn’t share our family history. She’s also got a beta’s knack for knowing how others are feeling.
I give them an edited version of meeting John, emphasizing his height and his old soldier vibe.
Robin of Loxley gets more detail, including how he feels like a stronger version of David’s boyfriend Connor.
That earns me a narrow stare from David until a sharp poke from Abby sends his gaze out the window.
Describing the house, and how I got the clothes, takes even more editing. I still haven’t decided whether or not to take Sonny and Rob up on their offer, and I really don’t want to get into anything about Leander de Lisle right now, which gets me as far as the job offer and the Uber ride.
And then, nothing.
“So.” David barks the word in the silence. “In a fit of amnesia, you took off running, covered forty-some miles, woke up and met characters from some old folktale, and now what? You want to go to work for them?”
“They need tech support,” I say weakly, my chest hurting at his distant tone of voice. He’s so hard for me to read now, and it used to be so easy.
He heaves a sigh and flicks a dismissive hand at me. “Do whatever you want.”
The pain in my chest crawls up to grab me by the throat. Dismissed. I’ve been dismissed. And I’ve heard those words before.
“That’s what you said.” Cliffe’s words cut through my misery. She points at David, her brow furrowed. “Right before he shifted and took off, you said he should do whatever he wants.”
David glances from Cliffe to Abby, obviously confused. “I meant it then, too.”
That makes my decision easy. “Cool. I’ll pack some stuff up and let you know where I’ll be staying.” I stand, blinking fast so I don’t cry. No way do I have the bandwidth to unpack David’s confusion and the almost wounded look on his face.
“Okay,” he says, and damn if he isn’t blinking fast too. “Just remember, you always have a place here.”
I manage to smile and nod, unable to come up with a simple thank-you in the face of that kind of generosity. He might think I have a home with him, but I’ve spent enough time waiting to see if we could repair what I damaged.
We can’t. I didn’t just damage the trust between us.
I destroyed it.