29. Shane
Chapter 29
Shane
“I ’ll be back in a little while—I need to run,” I whisper to Kaycia. I’m not sure she’s awake, wrapped in the sheets and cuddled under the quilt on my bed.
“Okay,” she sighs, not opening her eyes.
“Stay inside, I’ll lock it with the keypad.” I kiss her forehead, receiving a smile and nod in response, before I leave her sated and dozing to slip out the front door of the cabin. I don’t anticipate she’ll wake until morning after the excitement of the night and our encore of the bathroom after we came in from the firepit.
Though the moon is almost full, the sharp urge to shift that tingled under my skin last month has dulled to a manageable craving. Even so, I can’t wait to strip off my jeans and shift into my wolf. My senses are further heightened and Kaycia’s scent clings to me, overpowering even the wildness of the woods and the still pond. Stretching, I howl once, even though I know no one will reply to my call, then trot into the tree line before breaking into a full run.
The freedom of the wilderness, and the warmth of knowing Kaycia accepts all of me, lifts my spirits more than they’ve been since before my exile. I spend a half hour racing through the trees before backtracking to rejoin Kaycia in the cabin.
* * *
W e sleep late the next morning and I wake rested in a way I haven’t in years. I’m not certain if it’s because I was able to shift freely and run, or if it’s the lightness in spirit I feel now that Kaycia knows my secret.
Despite the positive developments in our relationship, worry about the Ross pack’s goons still vexes me, like an annoying song that you can’t seem to get out of your head no matter how hard you try. But skinny-dipping in the pond, and showing Kaycia the sunset as the sky turns from blue to pink and orange to twilight over the forest, keeps the tension safely at bay.
“I wish I had my canvases and paints,” she whispers, eyes wide as the colors fade and the stars begin to illuminate.
“We can bring them out sometime. Max doesn’t use his truck often; we can pack it all up and bring it.”
“I’d love that,” she answers, snuggling against my side where we sit on the blanket by the pond. “Maybe I could start a new collection. It’s too late to start anything new for the exhibition, but I can plan for next time.”
“Thinking positively and planning for the next one, huh? Are your parents going to fly up to see this one? Will I get to meet them?” As soon as I ask, I regret it.
“Not likely.” The excitement in her voice bleeds out and she toys with one of the blades of grass next to the blanket. “They don’t seem to think an art show is worth getting on a plane. I even offered to buy the tickets for them, but they haven’t answered me. My friend Meg wanted to come, but she has too much on her plate right now.”
“Well, I’ll be there. And so will Quel and Max and Jamila.”
I squeeze her hand. I haven’t met them, and I only have one side of the story, but irritation at Kaycia’s family smolders in my chest. The desire to protect her, even from petty criticisms from her family, is deeply rooted in me already. Despite my epic fuck ups, I know my parents still love me and would be proud of the life I’ve built here, even if it’s not the one they would have chosen for me. It hurts to know she doesn't think her parents feel the same, just because she made a change for her own happiness.
“Thank you. For all of this. Coming to save me, the cabin, the weekend. Trusting me with your secret.”
“Thank you for not running off screaming into the forest.” I chuckle, but it's half-hearted. A little part of me still worries she’ll run once the romance of the cabin wears off.
Kaycia slides her fingers up my arm and across my chest, letting it drift up to my cheek so she can pull my attention fully toward her. “Nothing you can say or do will scare me away. I know I’m safe with you, Shane. Plus”—she shrugs nonchalantly, but smiles gleefully— “I’ve always wanted a pet. You’re like having scary dog and scary boyfriend privileges all wrapped into one.”
I open my mouth to give her shit, but before I can speak, she adds, “Shut up and kiss me.” Smiling against my mouth she pulls me closer, laying back on the blanket. Kaycia guides me to follow until I’m propped above her on my elbows. Our gentle kisses grow urgent, and we make love under the moonlight.
* * *
“R eady to go back to reality?” I ask, washing the dishes from breakfast while Kaycia carefully folds her few belongings and places them in her backpack.
“No, but we must. My plants need water and I need to get some ideas sketched out. I was dumb to forget my sketchbook in the hustle to pack my bag.” She’s buoyant this morning, her blonde ponytail bouncing as she sweeps through to make sure she’s grabbed everything.
“You were under duress. And, yes. The plants. Good for them that I have to earn a living or I just might keep you to myself out here.”
Kaycia’s chuckle drifts from the other end of the house. “Busy week?”
“I have three bikes to finish working on. Raquel said the parts are all in, and she wasn’t happy about having to hold everything down alone unexpectedly for quite so long.”
Raquel’s texts have gotten snippier as the days pass. One of my long-time customers is anxious to have his bike back and she’s already swamped.
With everything packed on the bike and the cabin locked up, Kaycia zips herjacket and I hand over her helmet. She looks over at the cabin longingly and sighs, “I miss it already,” before sliding the helmet on.
I clip the strap of my own helmet and smile, waiting for her to slide behind me and get comfortable. “I know. I always feel that way. We’ll come back soon. I promise.”
I pather thigh, earning a little squeeze from her in return before starting the engine. With the bike rumbling beneath us, I rest my palm over her hand where she has it covering my heart and wonder if she can feel how hard it beats with her nearby. If she can tell how full it feels since she walked up behind me by the pond. It’s far too early for me to be making declarations of love, even if that’s what I was doing by claiming her as “mine”, but I can’t deny what I feel for this brave human woman. I can only dream she feels the same.
I pull up to the curb in front of our apartment building a few hours later, after we stopped for lunch at a favorite café on the route back to the city. The concrete and civilization feel heavy compared to the freedom of the rural getaway. As soon as her head is free of the helmet, Kaycia starts muttering about her plants and concepts for paintings, as though her mind is so full of ideas she can’t parse out what she should do first. My warm smile drops almost immediately when the exterior door swings open and we step onto the dingy tile of the main foyer. I silence her with a quick grab of her forearm, pulling her back from the stairwell.
“Hush.”
“Excuse me?” Kaycia retorts, looking up at me in shock which quickly turns to hurt. As though I’d dare speak to her that way unless something was wrong.
“Something isn’t right,” I reply, loosening my grip and stepping in front of her as I scent the air.
“What is it?” she whispers urgently, understanding that I wasn’t being a bossy asshole.
“I don’t know. Follow behind me and run if I tell you to.”
“Shane… you’re scaring me.”
I glance over my shoulder at the tremble in her tone.
“I know,” I answer grimly, breathing deeply to identify the scent of an unknown wolf all over our building, someone different than the one from the grocery store. My phone begins to ping with text notifications a moment later, but I silence it in my pocket with a flip of the switch, too focused on keeping Kaycia safe as we begin to ascend the stairs.
Nothing is amiss for the first two floors, aside from the stranger’s scent, but when we reach our shared third-story landing, I suck in a startled breath at what awaits us.
Fuck.
“Kaycia, wait! Let me look—” But she’s already pushed past me before I can finish speaking. Her door is splintered, the deadbolt is still extended from the lock of the door, but the frame is busted where it was forced open. Deep gouges from claws mar the exterior and, even from my vantage point in the hall, I can see that broken ceramic and dirt litter the floor.
“Oh no! No no no!” Kaycia’s sobs echo through her destroyed apartment. I stand helpless in the doorway as she drops to her knees. Paintings—finished and in progress—are shredded, as are blank canvasses that were stored against the wall. The colorful remnants are strewn about like confetti from a cruel celebration. The handmade pots that held her beloved plants are crushed all through the studio, dirt spattered on the walls where they were thrown, and the greenery lies wilted where it landed.
In the center of the room, Kaycia cradles a single untouched canvas in her lap. The only one not torn into strips. The one of me watching the sunset on the neighboring balcony. My chest breaks open at the sight of her anguish and the tears streaking her cheeks.
All my fault.
“Why would someone do this?” she asks, hiccupping on her despair. “They didn’t take anything, they just… ruined it all.”
“Because of me. I let them know you’re a way to get at me. I’m so sorry, Kaycia. This is what I worried would happen and now I’ve ruined everything for you.”
“Fuck that,” Kaycia snarls, wiping her face on the slick sleeve of her leather jacket which does nothing to dry her tears. Her sadness flipping to fury so quickly surprises me and has me unsure of whether to step nearer or not. I expected her to wail and tell me to leave, but I should have expected more from my girl. “And fuck them,” she adds, standing and clutching the half-finished painting. “They can’t have you and they can’t use me to get you.”
Before I know what she’s doing, she’s in my arms, clinging to me, gripping the back of my jacket in her fingers, and letting the canvas drop between us.
“Did they get yours, too?” she asks, sniffling and glancing around.
From this angle, her easel—or what’s left of it—is in pieces, and oozing paint tubes are crushed to create a messy rainbow smear near the sliding door.
Anger boils in my chest at the undeserved destruction. They’ll pay for this. I’ll hunt them down and take care of it.
“Let’s go see,” is all I say.
With my jaw set, and my hand in hers, we walk back out to the landing, stepping over the dirt and broken ceramic as best we can. My door is marked with similar claw marks, but the lock must have been picked because the door is closed and the knob turns without effort. They wanted us drawn to Kaycia’s first, knowing it would hurt her worse. Glasses and plates lay shattered on the floor, my linens are shredded, and my bookshelf is toppled, but the destruction doesn’t hurt as much. I never had as much me in my apartment as Kaycia did. These are all things I can easily replace. They know the most important thing to me is her.
I made an error in threatening the shifter at the store and attacking the man sent to harass her. I made it too obvious that she was mine, even if she didn’t know it yet.
I’ve placed a target on her back.
“Shane,” Kaycia whispers. “Who’s this?” She stands at my kitchen island, staring at a piece of shiny paper lying on the granite in front of her. When I reach her side, my heart tumbles.
The photo is old, but I remember the day vividly. I can almost feel the heat of lazy teenage summers again. We were still pups who had just begun to shift, excited about the potential for the future. Even if our packs historically had a rivalry, it mostly lived on through jest and jeers, like fans of opposing sports teams razzing one another. The bloody debts of our ancestors didn’t matter to us. Animosity wasn’t something we could imagine would ever fester.
Staring up at me from the counter, the print slightly out of focus, are Ethan, Logan, Colton, and me—lanky in our youth with wide grins and arms slung over each other’s sunburned shoulders next to the pond we spent hours fishing and swimming in.
Vermillion oil paint from Kaycia’s apartment slashes across Ethan and Logan’s faces.
And mine.