In the Crossfire (Bloodhaven) (23 page)

“I fought against every visit. I objected to every attempt at ‘help’ I didn’t need. I could handle it. I had no grievances, no real stress or suffering. I’d won every fight, taken down every suspect, gained little to no injuries. What was the point of being put off-duty and sent to a shrink I didn’t need, wasting time, when I could’ve gone on to more missions and assignments, hunted down more rogues and faction fanatics?”

Her gaze held his, calm and unwavering in the shadows.

“I kept laughing and telling myself that, until one day in Kaya’s apartment when I pulled a blade on my sister while Naley was in the same room.”

Liam’s breath escaped in a slow hiss. He glanced down and saw that her knuckles had turned white.

He knew too well how much she loved Naley, how she would never want to hurt her niece or her sister, and how that lapse must surely haunt her each and every day.

This was her confession, now, and it was his turn to bear witness.

“I never fought against the psych visits again.” Thick lashes fanned down for a brief moment, lifting up to reveal golden-green eyes burning right into his soul. “Every time I’m put off-duty and get sent to the staff psychologist, I do it without question, because there is always in the back of my mind that terror that one day I’ll slip.”

He reached for her, framing her soft face with his hands. “You would never hurt Naley. Or your family, or the people you love.”

“All it takes is one slip, Liam. One mistake. There’s no coming back from that.” She dragged in a deep breath. “I’m not telling you all this to force you to go to therapy, or to take meds, or to . . . to . . . to I don’t know what. I’m telling you this because . . . because. . . .”

“Shh,” he said softly, because he could see her struggling. She was the one struggling with words this time, and he needed to spare her from it.

He touched his lips to her forehead, to her nose. His palm curved over the back of her neck. He rested his forehead on hers, closing his eyes, holding her hand to his chest as he brought her close.

He stood there with her, breathing her in. Savoring her softness and her touch, loving her for her hard edges and complex vulnerability.

We can both of us make a whole,
she’d said.

Once the nightmares returned, he’d question the naiveté of such sanguine words. For now, he allowed himself to clutch at that small wisp of hope that was even now curling around his heart.

Usually, whenever Isobel went out for her morning coffee on the deck, dawn would be just barely piercing its way through the horizon. The air would briskly glide across her skin, thickening the swirls of steam arising from her mug, a crisp herald of the day ahead.

On this particular morning, the sun was much higher in the bright blue sky. The land before her was awash with gold, while the mountains behind her seemed to swell with their own importance as they cast off their shadows as one would an unwanted cloak.

She sat there, sipping from her mug, unused to such a lazy awakening to the day. Usually she’d be miles away and in uniform by now. Part of the reason for this lazy awakening could be attributed to her being on leave, having a brief reprieve from her usual demanding schedule. The real reason, she knew, was her having joined Liam on his run last night.

He really was a magnificent creature, Isobel thought as she recalled him loping beside her in wolf form. Muscles contracting and expanding beneath silver fur, padded feet silently skimming the ground.

At one point, sensing her perusal, he had turned to look at her, baring his teeth in a grin.

Isobel had swerved sharply in retaliation, pouncing on his back and knocking him off his feet. She’d raced out of reach before he had even finished tumbling to a halt. Liam had growled and given chase, Isobel’s laughing chirps following in her wake.

She could easily outrun him in her cheetah form, but her speed came in spurts. Liam was built for endurance, and he got his revenge when he’d dragged her collapsed form halfway across the property by the tail. She’d managed to take a swipe at him before seeking refuge up in a tree, but it’d been worth it just to see the energized gleam in his eyes.

He’d shown her all his favorite places that night. Deep in the woods, up by the cliffs, even a deserted fox burrow that he’d blocked off to prevent it becoming a den. He was, Isobel realized, even more familiar with her property than she was herself.

Drowsy but exhilarated by their midnight adventures, they’d curled up next to each other and fallen asleep under the stars.

She’d given a grumbling Liam a lick across the brow before leaving him that morning. She managed to grab a shower before Naley woke up, not that the girl had spoken to her since their talk the previous night. Ten minutes ago, Isobel had spied the girl rounding the outside of the house with her soccer ball under her arm. It was clear she hadn’t noticed Isobel on the deck, and that she’d wanted to be alone, so Isobel had given her her space.

Now Isobel contemplated the phone in her hand. She thought about her fears and the ever-present memory preventing her from making that call. She thought about Liam last night, cupping her face between his hands. To her left came the
thud, thud, thud
of Naley kicking her ball against the stone wall surrounding the house.

The steady tempo, curiously, helped her come to her decision. She drained her coffee mug and went inside the house.

Twenty minutes later, call completed, Isobel studied the contents of her fridge. She heard Naley enter the house through the back, nudging her soccer ball to the corner.

She knew Naley was aware of her presence, but the girl merely scuffed her shoes on the kitchen doormat and kept her head lowered.

“’Morning,” said Isobel. “What do you feel like for breakfast?”

Naley shrugged, still not looking at her. “Whatever.”

Isobel laid out a stack of sliced bread, then grabbed a carton of eggs—newly replenished since the last time Naley had used them up—and cottage cheese.

“French toast okay with you?” she asked.

Naley muttered something that sounded like an assent. She lifted her head, took one look at the cottage cheese, and twitched.

Isobel smothered a smile and grabbed some milk as well as a jar of mustard.

“That’s not how you make French toast,” Naley said from behind her.

“Really?” Isobel ducked her head in the fridge, pretending to search for something else to add to the concoction. “Thought I saw it in a recipe somewhere.”

An impatient noise followed before Naley muscled Isobel aside and shoved the cottage cheese back in the fridge. “I’ll do it. Sit down.”

Isobel did as ordered. She watched the tension in Naley’s spine recede by the minutest degree as she focused on preparing their meal.

“Did you sleep well?” Isobel asked. By the time she’d left Naley’s room last night, the girl had been tucked up in bed, tear-streaked face turned away from her aunt. Isobel suspected the cub hadn’t been reassured at all by their conversation.

Naley shrugged. Isobel was nudging the handle of her empty coffee mug back and forth when Naley added, “You didn’t.”

“Didn’t what?”

“Sleep.” Naley cast a dry glance over her shoulder. “I know Liam spent the night.”

Isobel stared at her.

“His scent is all over upstairs. Strong, too, so I know it’s not just transference.”

“How do you know about transference?”

Naley turned around, arms folded. “I learn a lot of things around you, Aunt Iz.”

Isobel couldn’t argue with that. Liam was right. Try as she might, she couldn’t shield Naley from all the dangers unleashed by the world. And deep inside, she knew she’d be doing her niece a disservice if she did.

“Well,” Isobel began slowly, “it’s true Liam did stay for a few hours. . . .”

“Is that what grown-ups call it?”

Isobel narrowed her eyes, but Naley looked unperturbed. Isobel had the sneaking suspicion the girl was enjoying this. Carefully, she asked, “How do you feel about me and Liam?”

Naley rolled her eyes. “Toldja he liked you. All in the ears. Anyway, it’s about time. If you were my age, my friends and I would’ve shoved the two of you in a locked closet for fifteen minutes until you got your act together.”

Isobel stared at her, nonplussed.

“Okay, maybe an hour. Ew.” But Naley’s eyes held a teasing sparkle, and Isobel relaxed.

“Well. . . . Good. I think. I don’t want to make you uncomfortable about this thing between Liam and me.”

“Please. Everybody but you could see it from a mile away.”

“Who’s ‘everybody’?”

“Oh. Right. Just me, I guess.” Naley wrinkled her nose. “It’s not like there’re a lot of people around here to see.”

“Does that bother you?” Isobel studied her. “I know it must be hard for you right now, living far away from your friends.”

Naley turned away and began cracking eggs. “I don’t mind.”

“It’s not normal. You deserve to be able to hang out with your friends whenever you want, doing normal teenager stuff, without having to worry about access codes, or safety risks, or suspects I deal with or . . . or living an hour away from civilization.”

“And worrying about whether Mom’s gonna be home on any given day is more normal?”

Isobel opened her mouth, then closed it.

“There’s no such thing as normal,” Naley said flatly. “Normal’s a term you grown-ups came up with. The way you grew up is normal. It’s not the same way the rest of us are growing up. Our normals aren’t the same.”

Isobel thought about her childhood years, moving from place to place, country to country, surrounded by bodyguards and following her father’s household rules.

No,
she conceded,
I guess they’re not.

“That doesn’t mean our normal is worse than yours.” Naley crushed some empty eggshells in her fist before tossing them into the sink and washing her hands. “It’s just different. It’s
our
kind of normal.”

Her shoulders were tense. It reminded Isobel of Kaya in her youth, at her most stubborn, just before she’d take off without warning.

And it was that thought that filled Isobel with worry and apprehension. Whatever happened, she had to see this one through. She had to handle things differently now, or risk seeing the same unhappy, restless spirit that flowed through the mother echo in the daughter.

From her seat, Isobel reached over to Naley and turned her around. She drew the girl closer to stand between her outstretched legs. She held on to Naley’s hands, taking a moment to wonder at their smallness and unmarred skin. She was so young and brave.

Finally she looked up. “Tell me the truth,” Isobel said softly. “Tell me the truth, and I’ll listen, whatever you say. Do you feel lonely out here?”

Naley glared. “No.”

“Tell me the truth.”

“I am! I said no!”

Isobel tugged gently at Naley’s fingers, and Naley quieted down.

“I have friends,” the girl said mulishly. “I see them at school.”

“Is that enough? Don’t you want to spend time with them outside of school?”

“We do. We chat on our phones and computers. That’s what everyone does. Just ’cause I like ’em doesn’t mean I want to spend
all
my time with ’em. I have my own life too.”

A startled laugh escaped Isobel.

“It’s true,” Naley insisted, frowning.

Isobel quickly nodded. “So you like your space.”

“’Course. Just like you like yours. What’s so weird about that?”

“Nothing.” Isobel smiled.

Naley fidgeted. “Look, I know it’s inconvenient having to pick me up from school all the time. But summer’s coming soon, and it’s just a couple of years until I get my driving license anyway. You won’t have to worry about it then.”

Isobel shook her by the fingers. “You’re not an inconvenience. Don’t worry about my schedule. I’ll work things out.”

Naley subsided, then suddenly eyed her, having picked up on Isobel’s words. “You will?”

Isobel nodded. “And if anything happens—if I’m called away on missions and end up incommunicado for a few days, which
will
happen, I’m afraid—”

“I know.”

“—then I’ll make sure I give you plenty of notice, and you can arrange a sleepover with one of your friends until I come get you.”

Naley’s expression turned guarded. “You’re not gonna shove me back with Mom?”

Isobel tried to think of a kind way to phrase it:
I don’t know if your mom will always be there, cub.

From the way Naley was looking at her, Isobel realized she didn’t have to say it at all. Naley knew.

Her niece gave a firm nod, then brightened. “Or you could always let Liam know. I don’t think he’ll object too much to driving me to and from school. He seemed to have survived the experience the other day.” She grinned. “And if he moves in with you, I’ll get to feed him a lot more.”

Isobel hesitated. “We have to be prepared, cub. In case Liam doesn’t stay.”