Wolfsong (53 page)

“You were wrong,” I said. “We weren’t safe. Not all the time.”

“I know,” he said, deflating. “They told me. The others. I didn’t think—”

“No, you didn’t. You only had one thing you focused on.”

“Revenge,” he said. “Rage. The need to find him and make him suffer.”

“And you didn’t.” I didn’t mean it to come out like it did, like I was accusing him.

His shoulders slumped. “No. We… were close. So many times. But he always managed to be one step ahead. I tried, Ox. I tried to make things right. But I couldn’t. So I just kept going.”

“Would you even be here?” I asked. “If you didn’t think he was coming for us again?”

He said, “I don’t know,” and the honesty
hurt
.

I nodded. My head felt stuffed. I didn’t know what else to do. “Why would he come here now? Why, after all this time, would he come back? Why not before?”

“I don’t know.”

“When is he going to get here?”

“I don’t know.”

“What do we need to do?”

“I don’t know.”

“What the fuck
do
you know?” I snarled at him. “You have wasted three goddamn years of our lives for
nothing
?”

He flinched, eyes on the floor.

I couldn’t stop. Not now that I’d broken open.

“Tell me, Joe. Was it worth it? Was it worth keeping me safe like you think you did? Was it worth leaving us all behind so you could go after a fucking ghost?”

“I don’t—”

“
Don’t tell me you don’t know
!” I roared at him. “Tell me one fucking thing you
do
know!”

“That I love you.” His breath hitched in his chest.

And I just.

I couldn’t breathe.

Everything felt too loud. Too real. Too bright. I wanted to hurt myself to know if I was dreaming or awake. Of all the things he could have said, I expected that the least.

And it wasn’t
fair
.

I croaked out, “What?”

He didn’t look up at me, eyes trained on the floor. When he spoke, he sounded smaller than I’d ever heard him. He said, “I don’t know a lot. Not anymore. Everything changed. You did. The pack. The people in it. This place isn’t like it was when we left. And Carter and Kelly. They—just. They fit again. Like it was nothing. Like we hadn’t been gone at all. With Mom. With Mark. With all those
strangers
. And with you. And Gordo. Gordo, Ox. He didn’t even need to worry. Because he always had you. Even though he tied himself to me somehow that night. Even though he became mine, he was always yours. They all are. And I’m here just—I don’t know why I’m here. I messed up, Ox.” He wiped his eyes and something shattered in my chest. “I thought I was doing the right thing. I thought I was keeping you all safe. But I was selfish. Because I just wanted to keep
you
safe. To keep
you
away from the monsters. If you didn’t know me, if you had never met me, you wouldn’t be here right now. Your mom would be alive. And you would be happy. I thought you’d want it that way. The longer I was gone, the easier it would be to forget me and everything I’ve done to you. I wanted to come home, Ox. All I wanted to do was come home, because without you, I don’t
have
a home.”

“Joe—” I said.

He raised his hand, cutting me off. “Just—let me. I know you… have a choice. Still. And I know I’ve done nothing to make you still choose me. And I’m okay with that. Because if there’s”—his voice was strangled and harsh—“
someone
else, or if there
could
be, I don’t want to stand in the way of that. I just want to be wherever you are. As your friend. Or packmate. Or just me and you like it was before all of this.

“You don’t have to keep the wolf, Ox. You don’t have to. I just needed to be near you, because I’m
tired
. Okay? I’m so tired of this. Of running. Of not getting what I want. I just want you. Please just let me have you. Please. Nothing else matters if I can’t have you. Just let me, please just let me. You’re the Alpha here now, but please don’t make me leave.”

His face was wet by the time he’d finished. He had shifted partway, close to losing it to the wolf completely. I didn’t know how strong his control was anymore, given that I’d only seen him shift once on the night of the full moon.

And it wasn’t that I didn’t trust him, at least with this. Joe would never hurt me, not physically.

I didn’t want to fight this anymore. I didn’t want to fight him.

I took a step toward him.

His eyes flared again.

“Don’t,” he said. “You can’t. Ox, I’m slipping.”

“You won’t,” I said.

“You can’t know that,” he pleaded. “It’s not the same. I can’t find my way back because
it’s not the same
.”

I knew that. We both did. Some might have seen us and wondered how we’d gotten this far. After everything we’d been through. After everything we’d both done. He’d left. I’d stayed. I took his place, whether I’d meant to or not. I’d spent a good while angry at him. He spent the same time angry at himself.

None of that mattered, though. Maybe it would again, and soon, but right now, I just couldn’t take the thought of not touching him one second longer.

“No,” he said, “no, no, no, you
can’t
—”

I stood in front of him.

His back was against the door.

Our knees knocked together.

My hands brushed his.

It felt like such a tremendous thing, after all this time.

He growled at me, more wolf than man, and I took his face in my hand, that half-shifted face, white hair sprouting and receding, like he was stuck somewhere between the two. As soon as my fingers touched his skin, he shuddered against the touch and there was a moment when I thought it wouldn’t be enough. That too much had come between us for him to ever find his way back again.

Because I understood now what his choice had cost him. He might have been an Alpha and he might have had his brothers and Gordo with him to keep him sane, but he was almost an Omega too, having cut ties from his tether in order to give himself to his wolf. He hadn’t been able to focus on me because I kept him human. He’d given that up for the wolf. To become the predator. The hunter.

It couldn’t have all been for nothing.

These past three years couldn’t have been
nothing
.

They weren’t.

Because I was here, standing tall, even though I felt like crumbling.

My daddy had told me people were gonna give me shit and that it was gonna hurt.

My father was a liar.

Everything had been shit.

But I was still fucking standing.

I said, “Hey, Joe.”

And he looked up at me with fire-red eyes, skin along his face rippling with the shift.

He said, “
Ox
.”

My mother took me to church once. After my daddy had left.

She thought maybe we could both use some Jesus.

Joe said my name like the preacher spoke about God.

Reverent, filled with awe. Terror and adoration.

I didn’t know what to do with that.

I didn’t know that I deserved that.

I did the only thing I could think of.

I kissed Joe Bennett. There. In the old house.

And for that moment, everything was all right.

IT WAS
like before.

Only not.

We lay side by side in my old bed, facing each other.

We didn’t fit in it like we used to.

I hadn’t changed much. Maybe gotten a little wider, but not much else.

Joe, though.

Joe had changed.

He took up more room than he ever had before.

It was a tight fit. But we made it work.

One of his legs was pressed between mine. I held it in place.

We shared the same pillow. I told myself it was just because we couldn’t have him falling off the bed. But really, I just wanted him as close as I could get him.

He didn’t mind. I thought maybe he wanted to be close too.

We didn’t speak much, at least for a little while. I felt like all I’d been doing is talking lately and it was nice to have a break. To not need words. It wasn’t going to last, but that was okay. It was enough for now.

He’d walked into the room, and it was much like the first time he’d ever done so, eyes darting everywhere, taking everything in. I didn’t know what he saw, what differences were here. What differences there were in me. But I saw the exact moment he found the little stone wolf, still sitting atop my old desk. He froze, and the whine that came out was more wolf than human, a low, wounded noise that hurt my heart. He hadn’t made a move for it, hadn’t even reached an arm out to touch it, but he knew it was there all the same. What it meant for me. And for him.

He didn’t take his eyes away from me as we lay in that bed. They roamed over my face like he was trying to memorize me all over again. I can’t say I wasn’t doing anything different. I wondered what I’d see if he couldn’t heal like he could. What kind of scars there’d be. What stories they’d tell. I had my fair share. My stomach. My right arm. My back was the worst from when that Omega had gotten me the night Thomas had died. They told my stories. I couldn’t tell Joe’s.

The world moved outside of my room, but we ignored it.

He reached out and ran a finger along my eyebrows. My cheek. My forehead. The tip of my nose. He brushed it against my mouth and I kissed it, the barest press of my lips.

I wanted… more from him. More than I’d wanted from anyone else before. And it would be easy to take, because he’d give me his everything.

I couldn’t do it, though. Not yet. I thought maybe I was on my way to forgiveness, if there was still anything left to forgive, but I wasn’t there yet.

And I still had a pack to think of. A territory to protect.

I didn’t want to speak.

But I had to.

I said, “Joe.”

He said, “Yeah, Ox,” and for a moment my breath caught, because for all the times I’d imagined him finally back with me, here, in my bed, I never really expected it to feel like this.

He must have heard the tripping of my heart, because he pressed a hand against my chest. The angle was awkward, not really enough space for him to press too hard, but I knew what he was doing.

My heartbeat slowed. Calmed.

“I need to know,” I finally said.

He gave a little hum, eyes glinting.

“He’s coming here.”

“Yes.”

“Again.”

“Yes.”

“Why?”

His teeth were sharper. “Because that’s what he does. He’s no longer rational. He has lost himself to his wolf. I don’t think he even remembers what it was like to be human. The wolf, it… thinks differently, Ox. It’s still us. We’re still here, but when we change, when we shift, it’s not about rational anymore. It’s about base instinct. Things are more black-and-white. It’s the human side that deals in shades of gray. He’s lost that way of thinking. He gave up his humanity because he blames humans for destroying his family. It doesn’t need to be more complex than that.”

“Why now?”

I felt his claws prick my chest through my shirt, but his eyes never left mine. “Because he knew it would bring me back here. He needed time to recover. To heal. To put himself back together. He changed course, but the endgame is the same. He made sure to send us that message with the Kings. Killing David was the last sign. Everything pointed back to Green Creek.”

“He’s circling.”

Joe smiled bitterly. “More like ensnaring. By pointing threats in your direction, he knew I’d have no choice but to come home.”

“You always have a choice.”

His smile softened. “Not when it comes to you.”

I couldn’t take much more of this. My skin was buzzing and I felt the need to
touch
and
mark
and
bite
, but I had to finish this first. I had to make sure.

“What do we do?”

He sighed. “What we have to. I’m tired of running, Ox. I’m tired of chasing shadows. All I want is to dig my feet into this earth because it once belonged to my father. And I know he meant it for me too. This was his home. It’s yours now, and I’m okay with that. I’m okay with you and this. What you are. But I want it to be mine too. I want it to be ours. If you’ll let us. If you’ll have me.”

Doubts, then. “I’m not—”

“No,” he growled. “You don’t get to say that. You don’t get to say you’re not
anything
.”

Of course he knew. Those residual fears that I couldn’t ever be rid of, a holdover from when I didn’t think I’d amount to much. Maybe I could see now that I meant something to someone. Or someones. Maybe I could see it in their eyes when they looked at me. But that didn’t mean I didn’t feel like I was still a kid playing dress-up. Or a sheep in wolves’ clothing. It was a mask, this thing I was, and I wore it well.

Funny thing was, I almost believed it.

“Ox,” Joe said, sounding frustrated. “How can you not see it?”

I said, “I’m human,” as if that explained it all. To me, it did.

He smiled. “I know. And that’s the best part of all.”

We were whispering now, as if saying this any louder wouldn’t make it real.

I said, “What do we do?”

He said, “Whatever we can.”

I said, “I don’t know if I can do this. By myself.”

He said, “You won’t have to. Ox, don’t you see? I’m here now. If you’ll let me be.”

I said, “You can’t leave again. You can’t. You
can’t
. Even if he comes. And even if he runs again. Joe, you can’t leave us again. You can’t leave
me
again.”

He said, “I won’t,” and I heard the
promise
behind those two words, the
intent
. Joe Bennett was many things to me, but he wasn’t a liar. He might have had my anger, however much of it was still left. He might have held the remains of my trust in his hands. But Joe Bennett wouldn’t lie to me. Not about this. Not when it meant so much.

I believed him.

So I don’t know that I can be blamed for surging forward then, thinking
now
and
finally
and
JoeJoeJoe
. He grunted once, but I swallowed it down, my mouth on his, frantic and harsh. His hands came up and cupped my face, holding me close, and aside from the taste of him, all I could think about was the last time we were like this, side by side. We’d been saying good-bye then, and now it was
hello, hello, I can’t believe you’re here, hello
.