Taken In by the Pack: Second Chances (18 page)

“What do you mean I haven’t told you I want to be together with you? Isn’t that obvious, Adalyn?” His voice sounded tense, and a little wounded, too. He had no right to act like I was the one who had wounded him, after everything he’d done!

I bit my lip, shaking my head a bit. “I mean, I gathered as much, especially after talking to Miss Madge, but— well, it’s one of those things it’s good to hear straight up.”

He stepped forward, closing the little gap I had made between us, and lifted one big hand to cup the side of my face gently. It startled me slightly to realize that he was literally cupping the
entire
side of my face. His hands were huge! “Of
course
I want to be with you, Adalyn. I always have, ever since we were freshmen. I thought we couldn’t be together, so when I had to leave, I tried to give you a clean break. It hurt me, too, more than I can put into words, but I thought it was necessary. I know that doesn’t make any sense to you right now, but it will. Taking a human mate is just not a possibility for the Alpha. If I had known that you were a half-blood, nothing could have come between us.”

“You keep saying that, so did Madge —
mate
. What does that mean, exactly? I mean, sex, babies? Something else?”

One side of his mouth drew up in a quirky little smile. “Well, in theory, it includes those things, at least hopefully. It’s— it’s kind of like marriage, or at least what marriage is supposed to be. A true lifetime commitment to one another. We don’t really have any concept of ‘divorce’. Unless one of the pair is abusive; but even then, it’s not so much ‘a divorce’, as it is that the abuser is driven from the pack. Neither half would take another mate.”

“So, basically what you’re saying is, after abandoning me and breaking my heart and not hearing from you for years, after essentially two days, you want me to marry you, with hardly any information and no recourse if it turns out to be a mistake?” My voice rose higher and higher in pitch as I spoke, until the last was barely more than a squeak. There was a little corner of my mind that insisted that didn’t sound like a bad idea at all, but I ignored it.

❖ ❖ ❖

He looked stunned, his eyes wide and his jaw a little slack. “I — er — well — geez, it sounds so awful when you put it that way, Adalyn,” he finally managed lamely. His shoulder hunched a bit, as if under the weight of my indignation.

I gave a short laugh, and I could feel an edge of hysteria creeping over me. “No shit it sounds awful! It feels pretty awful, too!” My breath was coming faster by the moment. I was being fairly nasty, and I knew it, but I couldn’t seem to stop myself; all the frustration and anger over the last few weeks was boiling to the surface again.

“I mean, I just— that’s not really what I meant at all.” He seemed so confused.
Aww, poor baby!
I thought sarcastically.
Can’t imagine what it must be like to be
confused!

“No? What did you mean, then? Cause that’s sure what it sounded like to me!” My control over my volume was slipping, and others were beginning to stir awake from the noise, but I really didn’t care at this point.
Let them hear, let them all effing hear!

“I just — you said you didn’t even know if I wanted to be with you. I definitely want to be with you. I always have. That’s all.”

“Oh, is that all?” I was reaching the point of hyperventilating again, and my chest felt constricted.
Oh good grief… am I really having a panic attack?

“Ada, honey, calm down, please? You need to learn to control these new stronger emotions, don’t let them take you over.” He tried to soothe me, but if anything, it had the opposite effect.

“Will you
stop
telling me to fucking
calm down?
You haven’t given me any reason to be calm! Quit pissing me off and maybe I can quit being pissed!” Despite my words, I tried to take his advice, tried to regain control over my roiling emotions.

He tried to reach for me again, and I smacked his hand away, taking a step back again. “Look, I — I need to think. I can’t — I just can’t cope with all of this right now. I’ve got to go.”

The way his lips were puckered and brows knitted, he looked like he was on the verge of tears himself.
Well, gee, he essentially just proposed and you had a panic attack and are running away. Can’t imagine why he might be a bit stung, too.

Shut up.

Great, now I’m arguing with myself. Let’s add schizophrenic to the pile, why not. My life was in danger of becoming boring for a second there.
I whimpered faintly, and turned, fleeing towards my car. This time he didn’t stop me, just stood there, watching, a helpless, almost lost looking expression on his face.

“You will come back, right? Once you’ve thought things through?”

I paused with my hand on the latch of my car door. “I don’t know, Bryson. I— maybe? Yes? Probably?” With my free hand, I swiped at my wet cheeks, sniffing a bit. “Part of me… wants this more than anything. But I don’t know if I can deal with it all, if I can take it.”

I didn’t wait for him to respond, just pulled open the door and slid inside. It took a supreme effort on my part, but I managed not to look at him again as I pulled out, turned, and headed through the hidden entry. I knew if I did I’d have ended up stopping to go back to him, and I had some hard decisions to make before I let that happen.

I turned onto the main road, such as it was, and drove far enough that I was fairly certain even wolf ears wouldn’t be able to hear me stop, then pulled onto the shoulder. I leaned on my steering wheel, and let my emotions take control for a little while. I cried, I screamed, I pounded on the wheel.

Once I’d let it all out and regained control of myself, I got back on the road fully, and headed back to town. The tears only obscured my vision a little.

Chapter Twelve

By the time I got home, I felt like my eyelids were made of sandpaper; the few short hours of sleep on the hard ground had not left me sufficiently rested. I decided my first priority was a nap. I curled up on top of my covers — I knew if I actually changed clothes and got under the covers, I would probably sleep till nightfall, and then my schedule would be completely messed up, instead of just momentarily odd.

I woke up a little after 11, which I figured wasn’t too awful. I sat up, then just sat there for a while. What a weekend! Crazy piled on top of crazy.

I finally decided I had spent too long obsessing over all of this. I needed to attend to the rest of my life, too. I got up, made myself a cup of coffee, and put it in my travel mug, sipping it on my way back out the door.

I only saw one or two other people besides the staff at the gym, being noon on a Sunday — most people were in church or sharing a Sunday dinner with their families — which suited me just fine. I went back to the locker room to change, then hit the treadmills.

I set it to work slowly from a walk up to a jog. I tried to be fully in the moment, to listen to the upbeat music playing and let my mind rest. As the speed picked up though, my thoughts were all centered on what it would have been like to run with the pack last night; to run wild and free, and with a purpose instead of running in place. It felt like my whole life had been spent running in place instead of actually getting anywhere, accomplishing anything. Maybe this explained why? Perhaps there was a part of me left unfulfilled, that could never be fulfilled by a ‘normal’ human life.

The thought was both depressing and exciting in nearly equal measure — that a normal life might never satisfy me, and that I had the chance for something more.

If I chose to stay in the life I led now — an ‘if’ that was growing less likely by the minute, but still — would I be left feeling unfulfilled, as if I never really accomplished anything, my entire life?

In high school, I always thought I would feel like I had really accomplished something if I passed that year, but I never really did, it just led to the next year, just one more step on the treadmill. The speed increased, but it was still the same old thing.

Of course, I was certain that graduating from high school would feel like a real accomplishment. But that, too, was just another step on the treadmill.

On to college, and still I jogged along in place, more of the same, day in and day out. There was no real change, no accomplishment. Just more running in place. I was still hoping my degree would change that feeling, that I would finally be able to make a difference; but now I wasn’t so sure anything in the ‘normal’ world would ever really leave me feeling fulfilled.

Suddenly I couldn’t stand the thought of taking even one more step on the treadmill — the real one, that is. I jumped off of it without even turning it off first; I leaned back over it to reset the controls and watched it slow and stop. If only the metaphorical treadmill were as easy to escape.

Except. . . Was it? Was that what I was being offered? A chance to escape the endless, pointless grind, if only a few nights a month?

I tried to shake off the rather maudlin line of thought. It must be because I had been running on empty for so long. I glanced at the clock and was surprised to find I had been running for the better part of an hour. I needed to get some lunch, and some studying in!

I grabbed a quick shower and changed back into my normal clothes, and headed out. I grabbed a salad on the way home just so I wouldn’t have to bother with the prep. Once I got home, I settled in on the couch to eat, using my feet as a stand for my textbook. My mind was finally clear enough, that I only had to re-read a few passages. Since it finally seemed to be working, I spent the rest of the afternoon and most of the evening playing catch-up on my sadly neglected schoolwork, stopping just long enough to make myself a sandwich for dinner, which I ate back on the couch while reading again.

By eight, I was yawning. I never went to bed that early, but after all the stress and chaos and missed sleep, I figured I deserved some extra. I packed up my books and notes, feeling quite virtuous, and went to crawl into bed. By the time I’d brushed my hair and changed into my pj’s, I was so worn out that I didn’t actually remember my head hitting the pillow.

❖ ❖ ❖

I woke up Monday morning actually feeling refreshed for the first time in far too long. I woke up fairly early, so I took my time getting ready for the day; I enjoyed a long shower letting the warm water relax knotted muscles, I primped and pampered myself, and even went so far as to French braid my hair after I’d blow-dried it, a style I loved but was usually too time-intensive for me to do.

I picked out a cute retro-style knee length skirt and matching top, grabbed my bag and purse, practically skipped my way out to my car, and headed for campus. Despite the decisions still in front of me, I was feeling better than I had in weeks.

Before I even made it all the way to the plaza where we normally met, I saw Angie waiting right at the edge, bouncing in impatience. Once she spotted me, she practically pounced on me.

“Ada! Where have you been all weekend, girl? Why didn’t you call me? How did it go?” Her voice was barely below a squeal. Had she really been that worried about me?

“Phones work both ways, you know, if you were that worried.” I laughed softly, continuing to walk, forcing her to have to follow along if she wanted to keep talking, and give me a sort of timer for the conversation.

I spotted Elijah on the far side of the plaza, and had to suppress a sigh. I nodded slightly to him, and he returned the nod, but luckily Angie didn’t seem to notice.

“Don’t evade the question. What happened? How did it go?” she pressed.

I sighed softly. “It was-” I paused, trying to find words to convey it without piquing her curiosity too much, “it was very strange. Bryson and his group aren’t at all how they seem at first. But it was really amazing, too. I can’t really talk about it, much, though. And he wants to get back together.”

She squealed in mingled delight and horror, bouncing her steps a bit. “You aren’t seriously considering it? After what he did to you?”

“I—” my voice broke, choking up a bit, and I could feel tears pricking at my eyes, threatening to spill, though I managed to keep them in check. “I don’t know, Ang. Part of me wants to, so very badly. And he says that there were— erm— extenuating circumstances last time, that he didn’t do it by choice really, and that he’d never do anything like that again. And I believe that he means that. I just don’t know if I could ever really trust him.”

She shook her head, her face solemn. “Fool me once? Come on, you can’t trust someone who would just abandon you like that.”