Chapter Twenty-Six
Emerson
I wake the next morning with a sick feeling in my stomach. My mood was definitely dampened after receiving Jamie’s text that he didn’t want to eat with us, and Patch picked up on it. He said he was more than happy to stay overnight, but that he thought it might be better if he left.
I agreed. I didn’t want to. I want to wake with both of them in my bed. I’ve never slept as well as that short nap last night and, selfishly, I want that again.
I want them again.
I sit up and shove a hand through my hair.
I showered before coming to bed, but it’s dried through the night, and it’ll be unruly all day now.
I sigh. I don’t even care. Did Patch and Jamie have some kind of conversation while I was out?
I know I didn’t take care of them well enough after.
Fuck. I was so out of it myself, so overwhelmed by my own feelings, that I became selfish and irresponsible.
“Fuck,” I mutter, pressing the heels of my hands against my eyes. Then, louder, “Fuck!”
If I’ve messed things up with both of them, I won’t be surprised. I lean over and glance at my phone. It’s already past ten, which means Jamie will be at work. No chance of speaking to him until the evening—if he is upset or angry, then I don’t want to make things worse while he’s working.
And Patch? I have one text, and my stomach flips over despite itself. I open it and can’t help my smile.
I want to see you again. Are you free tomorrow?
Am I? Like I have anything else to do. The premonition of a headache pounds behind my eyes. I need to find proof of that werewolf, but for the first time in my life, the promise of magic has nothing on what actually might be happening to me.
Can I have them both? Can I help them work through whatever already exists between them and convince them we’ll be great together?
I groan and drop my head back on my pillow.
Except I don’t know that either, do I? I don’t know if we’ll work well together.
I know that Jamie and I get along well. I’ve been on all of two dates with Patch.
Outside of my bedroom last night, I’ve only seen them interact once and it was nothing if not awkward.
Thoroughly demotivated, I climb out of bed and head for the bathroom. Once I’m washed up and dressed, I walk into the kitchen and then stand there. I don’t want to make breakfast. I don’t want to do anything cooped up in this house right now.
I need to move.
I grab one of my cameras before I go—the chances of seeing a werewolf are low, but hey, I might get lucky—and head out onto the street.
I spotted a cute café a few days ago that might be a nice place to hole up in and think for a few hours; failing that, a library will do.
Something about the smell of coffee or old books is perfect.
I pass the park where the video of the werewolf was taken and only linger for a couple of minutes, searching the shadows of every bush or tree. It’s not raining today, but the roads and pavement are still dark with water, the air fresh but muted when I breathe it in.
The café is a street over from where I remember, and my lips quirk at the sign. Hallowed Grounds. Cute. A little bell jingles when I let myself inside, and then I come to a stop when I see Vince’s boyfriend—Patch’s best friend—Dax, sitting at one of the tables by the window.
He spots me, too. Can’t miss me, really. There’s hardly anyone else in here, and he’s facing the door, anyway. His smile lights up his face and he holds his hand up in a little wave.
My feet carry me over to him before I can stop myself. I don’t really know what to say. I’m not about to hash out everything about last night, of course, but I have nothing else in my head aside from a play-by-play of where things might have gone wrong.
“Hey, Em,” Dax says. He pushes out the chair opposite him. “Wanna sit?”
“I—” I glance around. It really is quiet in here. A tall, too-handsome man is standing behind the counter, arms crossed over his chest. I turn back to Dax. “Is he glaring at me?”
Dax’s cheeks colour. “Lark can be temperamental,” he says. “It’s his café. The coffee is really good.”
I glance down at the small plate in front of him. It’s devoid of everything except a small pile of crumbs. “And the cakes?”
“Drew makes them. He’s finishing in about half an hour; that’s why I’m waiting. You should get something. You know, if you’re hungry…”
My stomach growls, even as I’m about to protest. “I’m—Yeah, I might.”
“Cool. Come sit with me when you’ve ordered, okay?”
His tone has no command to it at all—that’s not the kind of guy he is—but I find myself nodding all the same. He might be a comforting presence, even if I can’t exactly explain what my issue is. Maybe I just need to be around someone I haven’t recently had sex with.
I pull a face at my thoughts as I approach the counter and Lark’s glare intensifies. Fuck. I try a smile, but that changes nothing. Okay. I veer off to look at the cakes for a moment, hyper-aware of his gaze on me.
Is he dangerous? Fuck, is this place a weird front for something? I’ve heard about that, somewhere… All those candy shops being fronts for money laundering or something like that.
I shake my head at myself, stomach rumbling again at the sight of a cinnamon roll as big as my face. If I can’t ignore my worries, at least I can eat until they seem less important. And honestly, I have to talk to Jamie about this tonight, and I don’t want to do that on an empty stomach.
“Can I—” I hesitate. Lark hasn’t moved, and he doesn’t come closer now. “Can I get a cinnamon roll and a latte, please?”
He glares at me for a moment longer, then nods curtly and puts everything through the till. “I will bring it over,” he says once I’ve paid. He has an unusual, lilting accent—one that sounds a little posh, like mine. When I hesitate, the glare deepens. “Go.”
I jolt and hurry over to where Dax is sitting. He watches Lark with a curious expression. “I don’t know what’s got into him,” he says, leaning in conspiratorially. “He’s usually… well. Not friendly.”
I laugh despite myself, and Dax laughs too, and we both try to swallow it when Lark brings my food and drink over—setting both down carefully, all things considered—but we’re suppressing chuckles as he walks away.
“So,” Dax says, wrapping big hands around a mug that seems almost comically sized in his grip. “Everything okay? You seem like you’ve settled in well with Jamie and Nick.”
“Yeah, they’re… they’re great.” I pick at my cinnamon roll, eating a couple of bites mostly to keep my mouth full. Maybe then I won’t have to talk about it because I have the feeling Dax is heading somewhere I won’t like.
“And Patch?” Dax picks up his mug and pretends to take an unaffected sip. I raise one eyebrow. “How are things going with him?”
I sigh and lean back in my seat, pushing my plate away. Dax frowns. “I don’t know,” I say.
“What do you mean? Did something happen?”
“No, I just—Look, I don’t think I should be talking about this. I promised them—”
Dax’s eyes widen and I bite my tongue. Literally. It hurts.
“Oh,” he says. “Jamie, I guess?”
“Yeah.”
“Huh.” He takes an actual drink this time, looking past me, over at the counter. Lark is nowhere to be seen, thank fuck. I don’t think I could take him staring at me for much longer.
“It’s not… I’m not sure if I pushed them too far.”
“I’m not certain—”
“It’s just, I thought it was a good idea at the time. I thought we all did. But then Jamie kind of ran off and hid, and I don’t know what is going on between him and Patch because it seemed like they had something before I even got here—” I jerk my head up, looking at him. “Did they?”
“Not that I know of,” Dax manages. He looks distinctly uncomfortable.
I sigh. “Sorry. I didn’t mean—” I make a frustrated sound. “This is exactly what I didn’t want to do.”
Maybe I should ring Cate. I’m going to be a mess until Jamie gets home, and what if he wants me to leave the house? What if he decides to leave, pushes to move for that job, or even gets another one?
“You shouldn’t worry so much,” another voice says, and I lift my head to see another man standing over us. I can’t tell if he or Dax is bigger—they’re both huge—but he has the same kind of soft smile and flour dusting his T-shirt.
Dax gets up and drags a chair over. “You finished early.”
“I heard you talking,” the man replies with a shrug. He sits and then sticks out his hand for me to shake. “I’m Drew.”
“Oh, you—You make dinner for everyone. Jamie told me.”
Drew flushes, apparently pleased. “Yeah, I do. He doesn’t always come over, but it’s nice when he does. Same for Patch.”
“How much of all that just now did you hear?”
Drew and Dax exchange amused glances. “Oh, I think most of it,” Drew says. “Made some things make sense.”
Dax frowns. “It did?”
“I don’t—” I shake my head. “I think Patch is fine. He wants to see me tomorrow, but Jamie… I don’t know what I did. I just want to fix it.”
“You should ask him,” Drew says, and when I open my mouth to say, yeah, of course, that’s obviously the plan, he shakes his head. “You should ask him when Patch is with you.”
“I think I’m missing something here.” I look between them. “They really weren’t together before I got here?”
Drew shakes his head. I don’t think he’s lying.
I don’t think either of them is. But then, I don’t know how I’d tell if they were.
“I think… I think they’ve been attracted to each other since they first met.
But Patch met Jamie not long after Tim—Well.
It was a tricky time. He wasn’t going to push for anything. ”
Tim. Jamie’s stalker. “What happened to him?”
Drew shrugs one shoulder. Dax’s are tense. Did he know Tim? Vince was living at the house then. Maybe Dax was there. “He left,” Drew says. “I think he knows better than to come back.”
“Good.” I don’t want him anywhere near Jamie. I don’t want anyone else near him, near either of them. I push that feeling deep, deep down. They aren’t mine.
“What are your plans for the rest of the day?” Drew asks. Lark has returned to the counter now, and I think his expression softens the tiniest amount when Drew looks over at him.
“I don’t—I didn’t have plans,” I say.
“All right.” Drew nods at my cinnamon roll and coffee. “Finish up. We’ll take you around the area for a bit. Yeah?”
I look at Dax. He nods encouragingly. Some of the tightness in my chest eases. I’ll still call Cate later, once I’m sure she’s done with work, but I feel a little better about what lies ahead.
“Yeah, okay. Sounds good.”