Chapter 17 - Liv
It took me several hours to get myself back under control.
I stayed in my room, stewing, reminding myself that I couldn’t let people see me this angry.
I needed to find some good in all of this.
Except Drake had made that impossible. All I wanted was to help.
He was supposed to be my mate. He should understand.
Instead, all he cared about was controlling what I did, even though he had to know I was right. He had to know I could help.
After some time, though I was still bristling, I forced myself to go back downstairs.
I had left a mess, and I needed to clean up.
For once, I didn’t care if Drake saw me angry or upset.
For the first time, it seemed silly that I had ever thought that I had to hide these emotions from everyone.
So, despite still being upset, I trudged down the steps, bracing myself for seeing Drake again.
Except when I got to the living room, it was spotless. Even the wine stain was gone. I blinked, staring at the pristine room. Drake had cleaned it all up. For whatever reason, that cut through the ire. His soft side was showing again.
When Drake emerged from the kitchen and saw me, he paused. A silence lingered.
“Hey,” he grunted.
“Hey.” I shifted in my seat, eyeing him uneasily. After our argument, I wasn’t entirely sure what to expect.
Whatever I had been expecting, it wasn’t what came out of his mouth.
“During that argument,” he began, “you mentioned everything I did to you.”
“Oh,” I said. “Yeah, I guess I did.”
He nodded. “I’m guessing you’re talking about when we were kids?”
I tilted my head back and forth. “That, and the whole stopping me from leaving when I tried to get out of town. But mostly the first bit, yeah.”
“And I’m also guessing that you’re not talking about all the times I picked on you, even if that was a shitty thing for me to do.”
So close and yet so far from an apology. I wanted to scream. He would acknowledge that he did these things, but for whatever reason, taking that final step to admit culpability seemed beyond him. I couldn’t fathom it.
“That was definitely part of it as well,” I said, trying to keep that frustration out of my voice. I wasn’t going to ask for an apology; that defeated the whole purpose. Any apology that came after would be hollow and meaningless.
He nodded, glancing out at the living room before dragging his attention back to me, his expression unreadable.
“I sort of figured we were okay,” he said. “I mean, you never said anything about it, and I figured there was an understanding that we just wouldn’t talk about it.”
I put my book down. “Drake, you broke my heart. Which is rough, but it happens. But the way you did it hurt worse. Then we basically never spoke about it.”
“Because you kept avoiding me,” he growled. “I figured if you had an issue, you would tell me. Instead, you more or less vanished whenever I showed up.”
“And why do you think I did that? Do you think it was because I was happy with how that conversation went?”
He ran his fingers through his hair as he stared out the window, his brow furrowed, his mouth turned down in a slight frown. After a moment, he let out a frustrated sigh, his shoulders drooping a little.
“You deserve an explanation,” he muttered. “Even if it sounds feeble. But if all of this is still looming over us, then I need to say it, if only so you’ll understand why I did what I did.”
He glanced over at me, waiting. I didn’t want to know why he did what he did.
Explanations didn’t take the hurt away. It didn’t change the years of heartache.
I wanted to tell him as much. But then I saw the look on his face, that desperate need and twinge of worry, and I softened. My shoulders sagged as I exhaled.
“Which is…?” I asked.
“My father never believed in mates,” he muttered.
“Granted, I don’t think he ever believed in love, period.
He stuck around because my mother got pregnant, and he was old-fashioned and saw it as his duty.
He didn’t stay with her out of love—he made that perfectly clear.
If true mates do exist—and I’m still not sure—then they were about as far from true mates as it was possible to get.
They were both miserable, and they didn’t bother to hide it.
“Anyway,” he added, “the point is that it’s easy to laugh at the idea of someone being your mate when your father is telling you that they don’t exist.”
I listened in silence, letting him speak. It made perfect sense, knowing everything I did about Drake. It put so much of the enigma into clear light.
“So you’re telling me that when I came to you and told you what I felt, you, what, thought I was just a silly, delusional girl?”
When he shrugged, not looking at me, I pivoted and asked a question I had wanted to ask for nearly ten years.
“Did you really not feel anything? Nothing at all?”
He gnashed his teeth. “I don’t know,” he bit out. “I really don’t.”
I should have expected that answer. It didn’t stop the sting of disappointment.
“So, yeah, that’s what happened that day,” he said. “That’s why I acted that way.”
“That doesn’t excuse the cruel things you said to me,” I said. “Both then and before.”
“No, probably not,” he acknowledged. He went silent for a moment.
I waited for the apology, but it didn’t come.
When he did speak again, he added, “I was never sure how to treat you. It was easier in private. In public, I didn’t want anyone to think I was silly enough to believe in anything as frivolous as mates. ”
“Mates aren’t frivolous,” I argued.
He shrugged, scratching his neck. “They make things more complicated. Besides, think about it. Say true mates do exist. What if you think you’ve found your true mate, and it turns out you’re wrong?
You only find out when you stumble across your real mate sometime later, but by then, it’s too late.
You’ve already mated the other one, and there’s nothing you can do but be miserable. ”
“You really are a pessimist, you know that?” I said. “That’s such a cynical take on things.”
And what does that mean about us? I wondered with an unpleasant jolt of panic. Does that mean you think I’m a mistake? Are you already miserable?
The questions pressed against my lips, but I couldn’t bring myself to ask them. I didn’t know if I wanted to hear the answers.
He shrugged. “That’s just the way I feel about it.”
I nodded. “Okay, well, thanks for telling me.”
“I just thought you should know.”
I waited once more for the apology. I wasn’t going to beg him for it.
I shouldn’t have to, not about this. He should know he needed to apologize without my having to tell him so.
Except it never came. I buried my disappointment deep inside, because it wasn’t going to do either of us any good to dwell on it.
If he wasn’t going to apologize, I wasn’t going to wait for one.
“Is that all, then?” I asked.
“No.” He let out a deep breath, still frowning slightly. “You’re right. I can’t control your life, and you could do a lot of good for the town. If you really want to train and work with Rachel and Emma, then I’m not going to stop you.”
I wasn’t sure if I heard him correctly at first. It took a moment for the words to sink in, for me to register that he meant it.
“Really?” I asked.
He gave a rare smirk. “I have a funny feeling that you would do it with or without my blessing, so I might as well give it, right?”
He wasn’t wrong, but despite everything, I felt better knowing he was on board. I knew he might struggle with the idea of mates, but that didn’t stop the fact that I still felt that tug toward him.
Without realizing what I was doing, I jumped from the couch and pulled him into a hug. He wrapped his arms around me. I breathed in his scent, pleasant and leathery. Without realizing I was doing it, I tugged him closer to me.
“Thank you,” I said when I finally broke the embrace.
“Just be aware that I’m going to continue being worried about you,” he growled as he reached up and tucked a strand of hair behind my ear. “And that’s not going to stop.”
***
The next day, I met up with Emma and Rachel at Emma’s house.
“Rachel told me everything,” Emma said. “You’re still willing to help out?”
“Of course,” I said.
“How did Drake take all of it?” Rachel asked.
I shrugged. “He was surprised for sure. But he adapted quickly.”
I wasn’t going to tell them about our conversation or our fight.
It was private. On top of that, I was still sorting out my feelings over the whole thing.
Those sorts of outbursts were rare for me because most of the time I tried to keep them in.
I always wanted to look on the bright side of things, and I always wanted to be happy, not angry.
But Drake’s initial reluctance had pissed me off so much that it had sort of burst out without my meaning for it to.
It had been as much a shock to me as it had been to Drake, probably.
At the same time, I was glad that I had done it.
It had felt good letting that side of me loose for once, when I typically held it so close to my chest. I had held onto those emotions for so long that to finally let them out, to finally admit to them in a raw, vulnerable way, had felt like a breath of fresh air.
I was fairly certain I had wanted to have that conversation with him for years now.
Except he still hadn’t apologized.
He’d had several chances to do so. I couldn’t understand why he wouldn’t. Was it because he didn’t believe he’d done anything wrong? Or was he just the type of guy who never even thought about apologizing? In the end, the reasoning didn’t matter. The result was the same.
Emma and Rachel were watching me expectantly. My cheeks flushed as I realized I had been lost in my own world for who knew how long. I coughed, using the motion to clear my head as I took a deep breath.
“So, how exactly does this work?” I asked.
Rachel and Emma both laughed.
“Good question,” Emma said. “Because we’re still working that out ourselves. It feels like it changes all the time.”
“Considering how long witches were distrusted and hated here, it’s not surprising that we don’t have much information,” Rachel said.
“We’ve been able to go through a few old books and learn the theories and a few spells, which was how we found out how to create the wards, but for the most part, we have to experiment and learn as we go.
We’re keeping notes for posterity, though. ”
“So no casting runes or hunching over a cauldron, muttering spells while warts grow all over our faces?” I asked, earning another laugh.
“Nothing like that,” Emma promised. “Though, considering we’ve stumbled across recipes for potions, I have no doubt that there are plenty of witches who cackle over cauldrons.”
“Probably wart-free, though,” Rachel mused. “We should try creating potions at some point. They’re typically element-based, so we shouldn’t have too much trouble.”
“You two won’t,” I countered, grimacing. “Right now, all I can do is get things to fly around the room.”
“And I started off making water hot,” Emma countered, one eyebrow raised. “We all have to begin somewhere. That doesn’t make your powers any less useful. We don’t know what you can do. For all we know, it’s better than anything Rachel or I could do.”
“I highly doubt it,” I said.
The other two women both flashed amused grins.
“Only one way to find out, isn’t there?” Emma said, her eyes sparkling.
That encouragement warmed me more than the summer heat. I took a deep breath, rolling my head from side to side. They were right. I couldn’t let that insecurity get the better of me. I needed to focus. I was here to help the town. I just needed to focus on that.
I broke into a wide smile. “All right, then,” I said. “Let’s get started.”