Chapter 20 Greenest Green #2
Jake is more stoic; no tears for him, but his voice drops so low I barely hear him rasp, “She’ll be fine, Sophie. She has to be.” Then he coughs and grumbles, “I’ll be there as soon as I can find someone to cover my shift.”
I’ve been wiping my eyes with the backs of my hands, but now Teddy produces another of his clean, white hankies, which I gratefully accept. I mop myself up as best I can in the bathroom.
When I emerge, Teddy holds out my phone, which I drop into my purse. He casts me an anxious look, his brow deeply furrowed. “I’ll drive.”
“Thanks,” I whisper, grateful for his strong, calming presence.
Teddy drops me off before searching for a parking spot in the hospital’s crowded lot.
I race through the special entrance reserved for supernatural visitors, which is tucked in the back of the hospital, hidden by a wooden fence and climbing ivy to prevent unsuspecting humans from wandering inside.
This waiting room is one of the few places in Riddle Hill where supers don’t have to hide our wings, fangs, fins, and fur from the public; given the amount of stress involved in waiting for news of a loved one's condition, it makes sense we can be ourselves here.
As soon as I enter, I release my wings, which I’ve been keeping tightly closed on the drive over here. As they unfurl through the slits in the back of my pink tee, I spot my dad and race over to him.
Dad grips my shoulders as my wing feathers brush against him. “It turns out the doctor’s initial assessment was wrong.” When he sees my lower lip begin to wobble, he hastily adds, “It’s good news! Phoebe didn’t have a heart attack after all—she has a severe case of faerie flu!”
“Faerie flu? But I thought Mom couldn’t catch it!
” I’m simultaneously confused and relieved; faerie flu is a nasty illness and highly contagious if you’ve never been exposed to it before, but it’s not fatal.
When I was fourteen our entire family came down with it—except for my mother.
Even Dad and Jake were bedridden. (Werewolves can catch it too.) Mom had to close the Sit for a Spell Café for a week so she could nurse us back to health.
After that incident, we all assumed she’d developed immunity.
“Apparently not,” says my grandmother. “Poor Phoebe; they’re putting her in isolation right now.
The doctor says she needs to stay here for five days, and then she’ll need to rest at home for another week.
” Granny Catbeam pats my wing feathers, like she’s trying to apologize for binding my magic, but I’m not ready to forgive her yet.
Teddy arrives in the waiting room at the same time as Cassia, who sheds happy tears when Dad shares the news.
Before any of us have time to inform Jake, he arrives, his face pale and drawn.
Poor Jake; everyone sees him as the big, strong alpha, but I remember the frightened, grieving, twelve-year-old boy who’d just lost his mother and stepdad in a car accident.
While Cassia sobbed at their funeral and teared up often at school afterward, Jake remained stolid and stone-faced, but at night I’d hear him crying quietly in his bedroom across the hall.
When Dad tells Jake, he shudders and throws his arms around my father, who immediately wraps his huge, coppery wings around him, giving them both some privacy. The two men finally separate, both of them swiping away the moisture from their eyes.
“Are we closing the café, Uncle Nash?” asks Cassia.
My dad’s wings droop. “I don’t know what to do. It’s the busiest time of the year, so I hate to close even for a few days, but without Phoebe, I don’t have much of a choice.”
“I can help,” I offer. “I don’t have Mom’s gift of discernment, but I can take orders and help Cassia with the customers.”
My dad looks at me and shakes his head. “But you have the bakery’s grand opening to prepare for. I can’t ask you to sacrifice that.”
“I think we can manage both.” Teddy has been standing off to the side, obviously not wanting to intrude, but now he steps forward. “I can help Sophie and Cassia during the morning rush, and the rest of the time I’ll focus on the bakery.”
“And I can give Teddy a hand at the bakery when I’m off work; the remodeling will go more quickly with the two of us,” says Jake.
Dad sniffs a few times before giving us a grateful nod, and then his thick, brown beard cracks into a wide grin. “Thank you… all of you.” Then he reaches his hand toward Teddy, and I realize I’ve not introduced them. “Dad, this is Teddy Barker; Teddy, this is Nash Brownlee.”
They shake hands, and Dad gives Teddy one of his, “I’m her father, and I’m watching you” looks. I stifle a sigh; why are the men in my family so ridiculously overprotective?
“Phoebe will be happy to know the Sit for a Spell Café is staying open,” says Granny. “And it’s a good thing too; someone has to keep an eye on those gargoyles.” Everyone groans except for Teddy, who quirks a brow.
“Just you wait,” chortles Jake, who claps Teddy on the shoulder. “They’re nasty little terrors.”
We all chuckle, even Teddy, but I get the sense something is bothering him that has nothing to do with my mom, the bakery, or the gargoyles. After I’m allowed to peek through the two-way glass inside the isolation unit and blow my mom a kiss, Teddy drives me home.
As I’m about to exit the car, he clears his throat; I know this means he has something to say. I wait, my hand resting on the car door. “What is it, Teddy?”
He hesitates and then says in a rush, “If you need help… of a more personal nature… you know I’m here for you, anytime. Just ask.” Teddy doesn’t look at me but continues staring out the windshield.
I’m not sure what he’s talking about or why he’s suddenly avoiding eye contact. “Um… thanks?”
After Teddy drives away, I open my front door and scoop up Zosia, who gives me a lot of meeps and wumps.
I settle into the green chair, Zosia in my lap, and drop my handbag on the floor by my feet.
My phone tumbles out, and despite my weariness, I decide to thumb through my text messages; I haven’t checked them since this morning.
My posture goes rigid, and Zosia whines, sensing my distress.
Now I know why Teddy’s brow was so furrowed earlier when he handed me my phone, and why he offered his help just now; he must have seen these messages.
Rafe’s first text arrived earlier today, around the time he spotted me and Teddy leaving the beach. “I stopped by to say hi, but then I saw you with another werewolf. Who is he?”
How did Rafe know I’d be on the beach, unless he’d been watching the bakery and followed me when I left with Teddy? Goosebumps prickle my flesh, and I shiver at the thought.
His second text arrived an hour later. “If he’s your new employee, I’ll gladly teach him a lesson he’ll never forget.” Sweet moonglow… now he’s threatening Teddy? The memory of Teddy holding me sours, and I clutch the phone more tightly; would Rafe really go so far as to hurt him?
Rafe’s final text arrived shortly before Dad called to tell me about my mom. “You shouldn’t be holding his hand, Sophie. That’s not right.”
I sit there for a long time, running my hands through Zosia’s warm fur, trying to convince myself not to freak out.
It’s not working; eventually I stumble into bed and fall asleep, only to dream of Rafe smirking cruelly as he beats up Teddy.
As I wake up feeling more exhausted than when I turned in, I decide that I need to push Teddy away in order to keep him safe from Rafe’s fists. It’s time to reassert our employer-employee relationship.
No more hugs or handholding or anything else until I’m sure the obsessive werewolf has moved on.