Chapter 70
KALLIGAN IS A DEAD MUTT.
If he's not already a rotting corpse, he will be the next time I see his old ass.
I'll put a bullet in his ankle so he can't run.
Smash his ribs.
Rip off an arm – probably. Bash in his skull.
The last twelve hours have been a pain in my ass, cooped up inside a room at Jasper Falls Memorial, waiting for my sprained ankle and bruised ribs to heal so that I could be discharged. That asshole got me in the side with his claws and gave me a concussion from bashing my head against a tree trunk.
Can you imagine the torture of lying in a hospital bed in pain and halfway delirious until Addy – who thankfully was my attending doctor during her weekend gig – decided my whining to be discharged was annoying and knocked my ass out with a dose of morphine?
Can you imagine the distress of replaying the night before, living in that moment when Kalligan jumped out of the bush and tackled me?
That fucker had been aiming for Jace. If I hadn't pushed him out of the way, Kalligan would have pushed my mate down that hill and I'm not sure what the odds of his survival would have been.
I hit rocks and roots and tree trunks on the way down. Sustained scratches and bruises, sore muscles, and fractured bones and sprained joints. Then came the fight.
Brutal enough to force me to shift faced against canines and claws from a veteran warrior who fought dirty and to kill.
If Ezra hadn't shown up when he did and scared Kalligan off with that gunshot, I'm not sure I would have been in better shape.
Better it'd been me than Jace.
And speaking of him, he has been on my mind every waking minute.
He was terrified last night but still so amazingly brave. I was only able to relax once David Conner visited me himself and said that Jace returned to them with a few scratches from running through the woods but otherwise, he was unharmed.
He is shaken up by witnessing me shift from my wolf to human, though.
He passed out because of it.
The last David Conner spoke of Jace, I'd been told he'll spend the afternoon at Kathryn's office in the rehabilitation centre, working through the trauma of the night before, and what he saw.
So, here I am.
Parked outside the rehabilitation centre two hours after my discharge from the hospital. I'd gone home to freshen up and eat something proper since I've been sustained on sandwiches the day before and running on fumes once shit hit the fan.
I won't dare call hospital food proper food because I left the building still hungry and pissed off about it because their food tastes like cheap crap.
Turning off the ignition, I send a quick text to Jace and grab the bouquet of fresh roses I bought to hopefully soften the blow of what could potentially be the end of my relationship.
He fainted last night seeing me shift. There's no doubt he'll be confused and angry about what I am, and that I kept it a secret all this time. He'll probably be afraid of me, too.
If he wants to end everything, I won't stop him. Last night's madness was proof again that he'll be safer untethered to my world and the dangers of people wanting him dead because of who he's mated to.
And honestly, I love him too much to ask him to stay.
But on the off chance that he does, I'll do everything in my power to make sure that danger never comes so close again.
"Here goes nothing."
Getting out of the car, I cross the street to the rehabilitation centre and enter the lobby. I'm about to check my phone in case Jace responded when I spot him through the double glass doors leading down the corridor where the offices and session rooms are located.
He gives an awkward smile as he approaches, a nervous look focused on the bouquet of roses in my hand.
"Hi," he greets softly, not looking me in the eyes. "You got me flowers again?"
"Actually, I didn't. I'm meeting someone else."
Jace's head snaps up and finally, he locks gazes with me.
He rolls his eyes, cheeks turning a pretty shade of pink when he catches my triumphant grin.
"You're playing with me."
I put the bouquet in his hands, watching as he traces the edges of a few petals. "Of course, they're for you, baby. Who else would I be buying flowers for?"
He doesn't respond. Verbally or by body language to my playful question which is my deliberate attempt to keep the mood light.
His expression stiffens as he pays more attention to the bouquet, lips twisting and nose wriggling.
"Why didn't you tell me?"
The question comes so quietly that if it weren't for my acute hearing, I would have missed it.
"A few reasons." Running a hand over the back of my neck, tilting my head side to side to work out the stiffness of my still-sore muscles, I give him a tiny, sheepish smile.
The neckline of my jersey shifts exposing the white tape of the gauze that covers the left side of my torso, from the base of my neck to my side over the ribcage.
That motherfucker Kalligan got me good. Dad threw a fit when he saw my injuries and it took Beta Chad and two other Weres from the S.W.A.T team to physically stop him from entering those woods and hunting Kalligan down.
That didn't work so naturally, they sedated him.
Via Beta Chad and a quick jab to the side of the head.
Worry etches across my mate's face, eyebrows dipping low. He presses a hand to my chest, fingers touching lightly as they dance over the fabric of my jersey, moving lower and slipping down my side.
"You're hurt badly."
"It'll heal."
The troubled expression on his face deepens and he starts nibbling his lower lip. His gaze remains trained on the white tape peeking out from under my jersey.
"Is what happened last night part of why you didn't tell me the truth? Or did you think I couldn't handle it?"
"A little bit of both. But the first reason, mainly."
He makes a quiet, almost defeated sound. And then he pulls away, walks around me and starts for the exit.
"Baby?"
We walk out of the building and across the street to the center's carpark. Jace slows down as he approaches my SUV, running a hand through his hair.
It's late afternoon. The sun isn't too hot but based on this morning's weather forecast I'd watched on the small television in my room at the hospital, the clouds rolling in and obscuring most of the sun, its heat, and blinding brightness, it's expected to rain in the coming days.
I wonder if that will cause my community service to be postponed. I'm due to begin on Monday at the construction site up on the north side of town where a new development is underway, as opposed to the original arrangement of helping Ezra in his conservation efforts to restore his part of town.
I haven't received much information on the project. Only that it's an apartment complex and the project's leading investor is the big shot owner of Vander Wal Technologies, a tech and real estate mogul based in the city.
Jace puts the bouquet of roses on the hood, turns and leans against the side of the SUV. He crosses his arms over his chest, nibbles his lower lip, uncrosses his arms and paces back and forth. He cracks his knuckles and lets out a slow, heavy sigh as he returns to leaning against the car.
"I just don't understand," he begins, peering up at me through thick, long eyelashes. "Didn't you trust me or did you think I couldn't handle the truth?"
"If I'm being honest," I start, "I didn't know how to tell you. And I was afraid of how you'd react."
He rolls his eyes. "Did you think I would leave you?"
I shrug. "With everything that's happened to you and your parents because of me, I wouldn't blame you if you did."
He nods slowly, twisting his lips. His gaze turns downward, a troubled, but faraway glint entering his eyes. He stills and then starts interlocking and unclasping his fingers.
"So...what exactly are you then? Like a werewolf...or something?"
"Yeah. Except, we just say Weres."
"Weres," he repeats, as if testing out the word on his tongue. He shakes his head. "That sounds strange. So, were you born this way?"
"I was. We all are. Weres, I mean. Most of us, anyway."
"Most?"
"Story for another time. Don't overwhelm yourself. Anything else you'd like to know?"
He laughs softly. "A lot, yes, but...uhm..."
He wrings his hands together, peering up at me again.
"There's something I haven't told you."
He turns and starts pacing again. I hear him swallow, take deep breaths. Watch him scuff the bottom of his sneakers against the asphalt.
I frown, tilting my head trying to catch his eye. I can't begin to decipher what I'm feeling from him through our bond, but I know he's scared.
"Baby, are you afraid of me?"
He stops. All fidgeting and pacing and nervous ticking comes to an abrupt halt. His head snaps up and he stares at me with wide green eyes, lips parted slightly. He blinks and licks his lips, turning toward the car, palms splayed flat on the hood, his back to me.
"Yes." He breathes deeply. "But not the way you're thinking. I'm not afraid of what you are."
My hands slip around his waist and he goes stiff. "Then what?"
"I'm afraid of how you'll react. You expected me to leave after finding out your secret but I'm still here. I won't walk away but I'm scared that you will when I tell you the truth."
"The truth about?"
He exhales heavily, noisily, and turns in my arms without lifting his gaze to look at me. Weaving between that fear I feel stretching from him through the bond, there's something else. Something just as ugly as the fear.
Shame.
"Do you remember that day when I got sick at school and passed out? You took me to the sick bay and stayed with me the whole time."
"Of course, I remember that. You scared me that time."
"I lied to you," he blurts, flitting a quick glance at my face then back down, his shame doubling in time with his growing anxiousness. "I lied about my illness."
No, he didn't lie. Illness like that can't be faked. And that smell I got off of him while he was in the throes of such agony, the stench of something sour and decaying.