19. Jolie
19
JOLIE
M y eyes water, my entire body frozen in place, attention pinned to the wolf in front of me. I’m too scared to blink and find him gone. If it’s rude to stare this long, he doesn’t seem to care. It’s as if he’s watching me as intently as I’m watching him, our gazes piercing into each other.
Not yet. But soon?
Why does it feel like this man— being —only speaks in riddles? I spent all day waiting for answers. Now that I have a few of them, I barely understand any more than I did an hour ago.
If anything, I’m more confused.
“What’s swirling through that mind of yours, Tempest?” Jax’s deep voice startles me back into the present.
Tempest.
The memory of dancing beneath the moonlight leaps to the forefront of my mind, recalling how I’d leaned into the caress of the wind as it carried my body to the music…
I rub my arms, trying to smooth down the goose bumps that have sprung up, realizing I’m still only in my bra. I spot my shirt and quickly snatch it off the floor, pulling it over my head.
“It’s nothing I haven’t seen before,” Jax purrs.
I swear the vibration of his words shakes me from the inside.
What the heck, Jolie?
I clear my throat. “You know, that line isn’t as cute as you think it is.”
Though, his words don’t exactly disturb me either. But they should, that logical little voice echoes in my mind. The one that still can’t make sense of this, no matter how many answers I get. I straighten up, tugging the hem of my shirt into place. It’s oversized, falling just above my knees, Ballet Potomac written across the chest in elegant script. Sitting on the bed, I tuck my legs under me, the chill in the room becoming more manageable. “I don’t know about where you’re from, but around here, that’s more creepy than anything.”
“I’m sorry. I’m not trying to be creepy.” He chuckles, as if amused.
“How long have you been watching me?”
“Since I awoke for winter.”
Over a month.
The silver-and-white wolf pads toward the bed. His snout lines up with my ribs before he sits back on his hind legs, cocking his head, those two icy prisms captivate my attention. Blues, whites, and silvers, with tiny flares of the rainbow glinting between the shades. It’s the closest I’ve seen them since the accident. I could stare at them forever and not be any less entranced.
Not all in my mind, I remind myself a few times. I’m not crazy.
He’s here and he has answers to the questions I’ve been dancing around for months. I’m not going to waste time by not asking them. “Why?”
He hesitates a moment, then bows his snout, breaking eye contact. “You’re not ready.”
“Just like I’m not ready to see you? Well, the other you.”
“Yes.” There’s nothing but firm sincerity in his words. “Believe me, you have no idea how badly I want you to see me so you know, without a doubt, that I’m real.”
His eyes draw up to mine and he scoots closer until his snout rests in front of my lap on the bed. Whether I’m struck by his words or his puppy dog eyes, my hands reach out and scratch the small swirl of silver tufted between his brows. It’s nowhere else on his head, but similar markings trail the upper half of his fur.
“What do you want from me?” I ask, stroking his snowy snout. He sighs, content, almost making me forget that I’m petting a large wolf. A large wolf in my bedroom.
“I want you to be happy. To thrive.”
“Bit of a tall order,” I snark. “There’s got to be more to it than that. Why do you care so much about my happiness?”
“All I’ll say is that your happiness matters to me. It matters to me a great deal.”
My hands still, ribs pinching. “I’m not sure if that’s supposed to frighten me?”
“I never want to frighten you. Though I understand why you might be scared. You don’t fully trust it.” The wolf’s icy gaze drops to the floor, but I scratch under his chin until he’s facing me again.
“Trust what?”
“Your mind.”
He’s not wrong. In fact, the most frightening thing about him is how well he seems to know me.
“It’s hard to trust your mind when you’ve barely been holding on for a year. Sometimes I dream that I’m still drowning. That my mom is there next to me. Dead.” My eyes shift to my lap, and he nuzzles my hands that fidget there. I run them back through his fur. They quiver with each stroke, but the tension in my chest slowly uncoils. “How do you trust a mind that never lets you get past the most horrific day of your life? How do I even know that you’re not just my imagination here to help me cope?”
“Do I seem imaginary?” He hums, the deep tone echoing through me.
“Well, no… But that doesn’t mean much.” I shrug and continue to brush his fur, scratching behind his ears. “Pretty sure anyone who walked in right now would have concerns. Who knows what’s going to happen with Blake…”
I should text him and make sure he’s okay. Being chased out by a giant wolf with glowing kaleidoscope eyes isn’t something that happens every day. But grabbing my phone and dealing with him is the last thing I want to do.
He’d come here upset about rehearsals. I should have been there for him however he needed me. How long had I waited for the reassurance of making our relationship public without fear of it messing with our careers? I should be jumping for joy. Instead, I’m confused by the weight lifted off my chest from Jax running him out of the apartment.
What does that say about me?
His furry body moves with the reverberation of his chuckling, shaking the bed and rattling something within me. I shift, crossing and uncrossing my legs as I try to get comfortable. “Don’t worry, Tempest, your little prince will be fine.” His voice lowers, becoming serious. “There’s nothing I want more than for you to believe in how real this is.”
“I doubt that.”
“Don’t.” He doesn’t say more but the coarseness of his tone tells me that any questions I try to ask about the subject will only be met with silence and more riddles. And right now, I’m too tired for games. Too tired to deconstruct any of this.
It’s already late, considering I need to be up at 4:30 a.m., but I don’t want this night to end. If I go to sleep, who says Jax won’t be gone when I wake up, taking his answers with him?
“Get some rest,” Jax insists, as if reading my thoughts.
“Can you stay?” I ask, throat thick as I rasp out the words. Not that he can tell me everything. Not that any of this makes sense.
There’s a beat of silence where only his bushy brows lift in surprise before he responds. “Of course. So long as it doesn’t creep you out too much.”
“It’s only creepy when you aren’t invited. Besides, I’m going to make you work for it.” I get up from the bed and head toward the bathroom, leaving the door open while I brush my teeth.
“Is that so?”
The slight growl in his tone almost makes me choke on my toothpaste. I spit the rest out and then rinse my mouth, talking between swishes of water. “You seem to—know—a lot about—me.” I pat my mouth and chin dry on the towel. “I don’t know that much about you.”
When I get back into the room, I turn off the light and cross over to the bed. Jax lies at the foot of it, and I tuck myself under the covers. The room is a bit colder since he’s here, but there’s a different coldness that settles in me because he feels much too far away.
“Why don’t you come up here?” I suggest, patting the bottom of the bed a few times. When nothing happens, I tap it again. “Come on. If you’re going to be in here making the room cold, the least you could do is keep my feet warm.”
He hops onto the bed, jostling it. I yawn, stretching out my hip one final time before I curl around myself within the covers.
Jax’s glowing eyes are the only things I make out in the darkness. They watch me with a soft curiosity far too gentle for his formidable beast. If his wolf is this massive, I wonder how tall he is in his true form . What does he look like? What is the daily life of an immortal harbinger? Where did he come from?
“You lured me here to ask me something. Out with it.”
Lured him ? As if I’m the predator and not the prey in this scenario.
Weighing where to begin, I bite my bottom lip. Jax growls so low I almost don’t hear the sound, though the bed quivering would be impossible to miss. I clench my thighs tightly together. Clearing my throat, I try not to think on that too much, finally figuring out what question to start with.
Jax shifts on the bed, the warmth of his large, furry body sinking into my toes. Tugging the blanket around my shoulders, I lay my head on the pillow. “Tell me about yourself. And start from the beginning.”
“Aren’t you supposed to be getting rest?”
“I am, but I also like some background noise.”
“My life story is your background noise?”
“Now you’re just stalling,” I tease, and his laughter jiggles the bed.
“Fine. You caught me… I’m not used to anyone asking about me.” His soothing baritone whispers against the shell of my ear, but his words cleave a hollow ache between my ribs. He sounds…lonely. I dare a final glance at the bottom of the bed and the hulking wolf lying there. Those prismatic irises break up the darkness with their unnatural illumination. “Once upon a time, there was a young mortal boy who lived in Boston and loved wintry days full of hot cocoa and playing hockey…”
I’m half asleep but somehow manage to cling to every word, as if they’ve been carved into my subconscious, deeper than any dream.
When “Ice Cream” startles me awake, I jolt upright, half expecting Jax to be gone. His chuckle is a welcome reassurance.
“Why do you keep changing my alarm?” I ask, tossing the blanket over his head and then ripping it back, teasing him.
“This song suits you better.” He states it as fact, then adds, “I know you prefer something upbeat. Wouldn’t want you oversleeping.”
Nope. Wouldn’t want that. Though if I could choose a day to do it, it would be today.
“When will I see you again?” I ask him, unwilling to leave it to chance.
“I’m not sure.” His voice is a bit sullen as he pushes to sit upright on the bed, towering over me. “But you can always reach me in winter.”
“I can?”
“Yes.” His snout bows down, black nose moving toward my sternum but not touching. “Just press on your mark and call to me. I’ll come as fast as I can.”
My palm glides up over my shirt. My mark . Not a scar. And it somehow connects me to him. “Here?”
Jax nods, and I brush the fur spanning his cheek, taking a final look at those eyes. No longer a dream but a firm reality. Does he know today’s the anniversary? I doubt it.
Sighing, I pull myself from the bed and walk to my dresser, picking out clothes for the day.
“I’m sorry, I need to go. Winter calls.”
“Bye, Jax.”
“See you soon, Tempest,” he says, leaping from the bed and disappearing before his paws touch the floor. I busy myself and finish getting ready. The room warms within a few minutes of his absence, and while I should be comforted that my room’s back to normal, I’m already missing the chill.