27. CHAPTER 27
CHAPTER 27
Grayson
“Lila,” I said as I carried her the last few steps to the icy curb. “You shouldn’t be out here alone.”
“I’m perfectly capable of walking in snow, Grayson.”
Stress tightened her voice and her body. She struggled to keep her walking crutch from whacking my knee. The floral scent of her perfume was the same fragrance from years ago: orange blossoms and jasmine. I’d bought it for her.
My throat clenched as I held Lila steady, waiting while she regained her footing. Strands of russet hair clung to my arm as if reluctant to let go. When she pressed her body against mine, the soft curves slid naturally into place.
Lila shifted slightly, pressing with her hips, her breasts, the way she’d always held me. I waited until she pulled away. Recognized the wave of disappointment running through her when I didn’t stop the withdrawal.
“How are you?” Two years had passed since we’d last talked, and I expected recriminations. They weren’t forthcoming, perhaps an encouraging sign. She hadn’t changed, looked the same youthful age she’d been before—I stopped the ruminations and studied her face.
Her hair and eyes were like Anson’s, but her features were feminine. Straight nose, perfect cheekbones. Lush mouth that revealed more emotion than she preferred.
She kept her head turned so I wouldn’t focus on her scars. Deliberately, I cupped her cheek, stroked a thumb against the uneven, puckered skin close to her hairline. “Don’t hide this.”
“The time when you told me what to do ended long ago,” she murmured.
I dropped my hand. “I’m glad you’re working as a healer again.”
“I’m sure you’ll need me with the looming war.” Her fingers tightened, relaxed, tightened again as she gripped the handhold on the crutch. The forearm band pressed against her bare skin. She’d come without a coat.
“You’re cold,” I said.
Her smile was tight. “I’m fine. Pure wolf.”
I ignored the veiled implication, focused on the distress hardening in her voice. “You should rest more.”
“Doesn’t seem possible these days.” She rubbed at her arm, where the skin had reddened. “I get the reports, too. I’m head of the medical division now, so everything crosses my desk. The request for supplies, the estimated beds needed. Resources. I was going to talk to my brother about it. But I suppose I can talk to you, since you’re in on the planning.”
“The threat is coming out of Cariboo, Lila. We didn’t start it.”
“But you’re very good at it. The fighting.” Her smile turned fragile and sparkling. “I hear you have an amazing designation.”
“I don’t believe in myths.”
“Well, of course you wouldn’t admit it. Being a dread lord must be a heavy weight. But won’t you want healers in the field this time?”
“The protocols haven’t changed.” We always had a medical staff, which she had managed then and now.
Her expression turned coy. “What are the chances of me joining you?”
“The conditions will be difficult at best, Lila.”
“Of course. Silly me, to have forgotten.” Her hands began the trembling that made her crutch waver.
“Have you kept up with the physical therapy?” I asked, watching as she brushed a strand of her hair from her face.
“The exercises are tedious. I have more luck with my psychiatrist. At least she’s entertaining.”
“How often do you see her?”
“I’m down to twice a month.” Lila’s attention drifted. I tried to follow the path of her gaze, curious about what caught her interest.
Noa. Sitting alone at a café table across the square.
“I met her today, you know. Noa.” Bitterness surfaced; the blunted blade Lila wielded when she slipped into past resentments. “She’s very beautiful.”
“She is.”
“Smart, gracious. Undamaged.”
“Lila…”
“Do you ever imagine how different our lives would be if we’d never met?”
“Do you?”
“No, I can’t manage that.” She leaned into her crutch, her eyes going vacant and the words, low and unsteady, seeming to tumble with her thoughts. “I try. Every day, I stare into the mirror and tell myself that, today, things will be different. I’ll be strong enough to let the memories go.” Her chin jerked upward as if she caught her downward emotional slide.
Then her expression darkened. I felt like she was ripping the memories apart. Me along with them. “I can’t even remember my life before you were in it.” She swallowed. “At least not accurately. My shrink says it isn’t healthy. But when I imagine… I try not to think badly about you.”
“If it was possible, I’d take those months back.” The insensitive phrasing closed in and I tried to make it right. “Take the pain back, Lila. Only the pain. The ending. I never wanted to hurt you.”
“And yet you did.” She looped an arm through mine and hip-bumped, emphasizing the joke, the teasing that had once come so easily for us. I’d seen her with her hands covered in blood from the dying, making jokes to distract her patient from reality. I’d seen her walk across a decimated battlefield without flinching.
I swallowed. “I couldn’t put you back together the way you deserved.” Both physically and emotionally.
Her fingers flexed, digging into my arm before she released her hold. “You tried, Grayson. But even you are incapable of miracles.”
I let myself look at her face, see the edge of anxiety in her eyes. I ran my hand over her hair, down her arm, realizing my soothing didn’t affect her the way it did Noa. Everything I did for Lila only made the trembling worse.
“Lila.” Anson was there, arriving so silently that I hadn’t noticed him. Gently, he touched her arm, waiting for her to focus. “Your car is waiting.”
A black SUV idled at the curb several yards away. The back door was open. Exhaust plumed in the air.
“Anson.” Lila’s smile brightened. “I was looking for you.”
“Laura told me. The weather’s about to turn. I wanted to offer you a ride home.”
“Thank you.” Her gaze drifted to me. “So good to see you again, Grayson. I’d stay for coffee, but…”
“Perhaps another time,” I murmured.
“We’ll make it a date. Promise.”
Anson’s expression had me waiting while he put his sister in the car. He watched until the driver pulled away.
When Anson returned, I inhaled heavily and said what was obvious. “She’s not getting any better.”
“She has good days and bad days,” he admitted.
A weight settled, making it difficult to speak. “I’m sorry.”
“Had it truly been your fault, I wouldn’t forgive you.”
I met Anson’s direct gaze. Refused to shy away from this conversation. Everything he’d feared, wanted to protect Lila from, had occurred because I’d come looking for Noa and found Lila instead. It wasn’t possible for me to stand by while she struggled to cross the street. Not when I was the ultimate cause for her disability.
“I didn’t seek her out today.”
“No, she was on the hunt.” Anson brushed at his hair. “She wanted to see what Noa looked like. But she was also looking for you, to stir up the guilt.”
“Why now?” I’d been in Westvale for over a week, and Noa close to a month.
“Who knows what goes through Lila’s head these days?”
I shifted my weight. Braced. “We’ll be leaving for the Cariboo soon. Noa will stay behind. Is she still welcome here?”
Anson tipped his head to study the cloudy sky. The snowflakes drifting.
“I talked to Lila’s doctor. Lila needs to accept the life she has, not fantasize about her life before the explosion. If she sees you moving on—that’s a dose of reality. It might trigger healing.” Then his voice lowered. “Don’t let her get into your head.”
“She’s always there, Anson.”
He slapped my shoulder. “Maybe that’s not healthy for you.” His fingers tightened before he added, “I see Noa across the way. You fecking need to talk to her.”