Chapter 7
Devon
I wake as if from a dream, hazy memories of being incredibly brazen on stage in front of the entire town, thankfully minus my mother, haunting me.
I tell myself to only think about how it felt in the moment— this is part of their culture, I keep reminding myself, something very normal to the shifting community. Not something to be ashamed of.
Well. That’s fine. I might still be slightly ashamed in my own head. I mean, who does that? Lets their own mate just absolutely obliterate them like that in front of an audience?
Damnit. Now I’m getting myself worked up.
I need to get up and do something with my day, because otherwise I’m just going to continue to hyper fixate on my performance yesterday.
Nothing sounds better than a steaming mug of hot chocolate, and I’m anxious to see Chip after announcing to the town that we’re official. At least it brought us closer together, being unapologetic like that, because allowing him become so intimate with my body was incredible.
Sure, sometimes it’s still odd to think that the man I unknowingly married can turn into hot chocolate, but in the grand scheme of things, is that really the biggest red flag? I bet you can think of three things so much worse right now. You see? It’s all about perspective.
Right now, I want a perspective of chocolate steam rising up to my face while I sip it and get all tingly.
“Chip?”
Huh, that’s weird. He’s not in his customary place of honor on the counter, ready to warm me up from the inside out.
Maybe he stepped outside to get some fresh air?
I grab the sweater I left on the chair yesterday and wrap it around me, shoving my feet into some shoes before heading to our sweet little porch, fully expecting to find him out there relaxing.
What I actually find is much worse.
Our wicker loveseat has been tipped over, the cushion on it nearly ripped off. The most frightening thing, however, is a small piece of red-orange ceramic resting precariously on the tread of the stairs.
A small, innocuous piece maybe, but it’s him. I know it is.
What the hell could have happened though? I don’t think he would willingly leave me alone here without at least a note, and the mess of our front porch tells a story of struggle.
Determined to get help and ask around, I dart back inside for my wallet and phone, then start the short walk into town.
There are hardly any people out and about at this hour, especially after the hedonistic way the night ended yesterday. Everyone seems to be sleeping in.
In fact, the only businesses I see even open as I get closer are ones that sell some sort of breakfast food— the diner, the bakery, and the coffee shop.
Everyone working the diner assures me they haven’t seen Chip since the party, and it’s the same story at the bakery and the coffee shop. I can tell they feel bad for me, but I’m still pretty new here, without actual friends, and no one seems to want to go out of their way to help a stranger.
Wait, duh. My mom is still in town.
I mean, she’s not exactly from here either, but she at least knows a few people.
Do vampires do things during the day?
Doesn’t matter, I’m using all of my resources.
???
Leave it to a mother to finally take my panic seriously. She knows that I’m not one to jump to conclusions unless it’s the only explanation, and within thirty minutes, we’ve got a whole phone tree going with people asking around.
Luckily with our party the night before, Chip is pretty notorious; I mean, he made me come so hard I’m pretty sure I started speaking in Italian at one point, and I have no prior knowledge of that language.
That’s talent.
Every time our problem reaches a farther corner of Trash Haven, I get a spark of hope that they’ll have some info for me, but by the end of the day, I’m exhausted and convinced that I made him up entirely.
Mom insists on staying at the cabin with me, which I appreciate, because sleeping there without Chip feels like it would be too much to handle.
Not even the town’s law enforcement had any insight, though they filed a report and promised to keep looking. I’ve done everything I possibly can, but it doesn’t feel like enough, and it doesn’t change the fact that my mate is missing.
For a relationship this new, it’s devastating to have already lost him.
I also feel like I’m going into withdrawals. I haven’t gone this long without drinking some of him since we met, and my insides feel like they’re on fire with need.
Sleeping is rough, soothed incrementally only by knowing my mom is sleeping just a room away. I’m trying my best not to hyperventilate, and I know we’ll get to the bottom of this one way or another, but the in between period is not something I’m enjoying dealing with.
When I stumble from the bedroom the next morning, I know the bruises under my eyes are much darker than I want them to be and my hair feels gross from me running my fingers through it and tugging at it incessantly, so mom forces me into the shower and I break down for the first time when it hits me just how reliant I’ve become on Chip.
I feel like I’ve taken that hunk of a mug for granted, that I haven’t appreciated how perfect he is for me. Maybe me thinking so many thoughts about how weird it is to be married to cocoa ruined this before it got really good. Did I bring this tragedy on myself?
I’ve been daydreaming about growing old with him in this town, watching flowers bloom in the spring out back and grocery shopping on Sundays together, and now I’m thinking that I’m never going to meet somebody again that makes me feel the way he does.
I’m spiraling, and my mom knows it.
“Honey, we need to get you out of here for a bit. I know you’re worried he might show back up, but you can leave a note on the table in case he does, so he’ll know where to find you. Maybe getting out and looking around again will help you feel like you’re doing something.”
“I’m fine,” I argue. But then I realize I’m scrubbing the wall with laundry detergent and a spoon and decide that mom is probably right.
“He didn’t give you any indication of where he might have gone?
” Mom asks as we brace ourselves against the almost arctic chill in the wind today, heading towards town.
“I know you went over everything about a dozen and a half times yesterday, but I just think maybe one more time couldn’t hurt.
Before you went to bed, after your party, he didn’t give you any hints about anywhere he needed to be?
Didn’t mention being…in trouble with anyone? I only ask because I want to help.”
I deflate, combing through my memory again, hoping to find something I might have missed. I still come up empty-handed. “I wish I had a hint to chase down, but I just don’t. Everything was normal. We were tired, we got ready for bed, he turned out the lights and pulled me close, and I was out fast.
“I remember waking up to turn over at some point and scooching into his back, so he was there the whole night. I can’t believe he’d have snuck out to go see someone else, either.
He’s been so intense since we met, going on about me being his fated mate.
Shifters are so serious about that, right?
It’s not something he could just ignore while he hooks up with someone else? ”
I realize by the time I finish asking that this is a real fear I have, one I’ve been too ashamed to admit.
I don’t want to paint Chip in a bad light, because everything in me is saying he’s a perfect match to my heart, a perfect handle to nestle into my palm.
Nobody could drink him like I do. The way he played my body was too good, too intimate, and there’s nothing about his behavior that said he wanted to jump out of my bed and go anywhere else.
He’s been in this town for a long time; if he wanted someone else by now, he would have made it happen.
Plus, I can’t stop seeing the way the wicker armchair was tipped over. The way the cushion was torn off, the pretty bow attaching it to the seat frayed at the seam.
I pull the small bag from my pocket yet again, the one I’ve put the tiny shard of his mug in.
Mom turns me, gently grabbing me by the shoulders. “Devon, no. I saw the way that man looked at you. You are his whole world. I don’t think you have to worry about him stepping out on you. I think something happened to him, and I know that’s hard to hear, but it’s what we’re all thinking.
“He was ecstatic to stand next to you on that stage at the party and show you off to the whole crowd, over the moon to tell everyone you were his mate and that you wished your union to be formally acknowledged by Trash Haven.
“We’ve got most of the town looking for him; he can’t stay hidden in a town this size, and you heard the mayor; no one has gone through the town barrier since I arrived. You know they monitor that closely. This is probably the best place to go missing, if it’s something that can’t be avoided.”
I try to laugh at the lame joke and do manage a tiny smile, but then I catch sight of the coffee shop and break down again.
“Do you think he would be very angry at me if I ordered some hot cocoa…just to smell? I would never drink any that wasn’t him.
But maybe it will preserve a small bit of my sanity? ”
“I think that’s a fine idea, Dev. You should get a hot cup of coffee, too; I was there when he laughed at that ridiculous question by the way.
Why would drinking coffee be an act of unfaithfulness?
Honestly Devon, it’s not sentient. Not like him.
I get the not wanting to drink other cocoa out of respect, but no, I don’t think he would begrudge you this comfort.
In fact, I insist on it, and the caffeine might help your brain sharpen up a bit.
I could use something warm too, it’s so cold today!
I know you said it didn’t taste good to you last time, but at the very least, it will give you something to do with your hands. ”
I let her tug me into the coffee shop, not fighting her when she tucks me into the corner and orders for us. She knows I’d feel awkward asking for cocoa since everyone knows who I’m married to.
It doesn’t take her long to retrieve our drinks and a couple of pastries, then she’s sliding into the chair across from me. “Here. I got salted caramel cocoa so it would be just slightly different for you and not confuse you too much. He’s more of a dark chocolate with a hint of cinnamon, right?”
I nod, grateful beyond belief to have her in town for this. “I don’t think I’ve said it enough, but I’m so happy you’re here. I don’t know how I’d be handling all this without you, Mom.”
She reaches for my hand, squeezing it gently before pulling it back to cradle her coffee. “I wouldn’t miss this for the world; seeing you happy and settled? It’s what every mom wants. We’ll find him honey, don’t you worry. I bet even now he’s fighting to get back to you.”
“And you’re not weirded out by my choice of partner? Really? You wouldn’t lie to me, right?”
She takes a little too long to answer, which makes me nervous, but I think she’s just trying to figure out how to phrase it properly.
“I wasn’t allowed to tell you about the supernatural world, but honestly it’s a relief that you found your way into it.
It was hard not being able to talk about Hank; I always felt like it put too much distance between us.
You know, there’s a chance your father is part of the supernatural community.
It may have been a one-night stand, but I’ve always been drawn to that type of human. ”
I set the cocoa down, a bit too quickly, automatically wincing when some of it spills, but then I freeze when a tiny little face appears in the singular drop that’s about to fall off the low table.
“Chip?!”
He’s so small that I have to lean forward to hear him, but just seeing him in any way makes me gasp and shake at the same time.
“My love, I need your help…locked up…drained. Using me…”
The face disappears and I start to panic immediately, but then he appears one last time, jumping straight off the table, using what feels like all of his energy to jump into the puddle of spilled liquid and shape it to his will.
The small puddle of cocoa I was so close to wiping up with a napkin transforms into an arrow, pointing right out the door.
I get down to his level and try and see what he’s pointing at, grabbing my mom’s arm when I see it.
The goddamn bakery, advertising a new blend of hot chocolate that they brag is far better than what the coffeeshop offers.
“Motherfucker!”