Chapter 20 - Peter

I don’t know where I’m going, and I don’t care. As pain and loss rise in me, I try desperately to switch it off. All my life, I’ve had inner barriers that prevent me from getting hurt, and I was a goddamn fool to let them come crumbling down.

I get a couple of houses away and growl with frustration. My wolf is howling and writhing inside, desperate to return to Lucy.

It’s not like I have a choice. I’m almost at the edge of the spell.

I raise my hand, waving it back and forth as if I could feel the magical barrier. By now, I’d be feeling some kind of discomfort. The air would get thick, hard to breathe. Time would seem to slow down, and it would become difficult to move. But I can’t feel any resistance in the air at all.

It scares me worse than if I just ran headfirst into the barrier and the forced teleport shocked me with the strength of ten lightning strikes.

I take a few more steps forward, waiting for the moment it becomes obvious the spell won’t let me go any further. I still feel nothing, so I just stand there, stretching out with all of my senses, trying to detect the barrier.

Do I want to break it, or strengthen it?

Clenching my fists, I almost scream with frustration. I want to run. It’s been so long since I let my wolf charge through the forest, chasing prey and howling at the moon.

This is what I feared about becoming domesticated. I’ll lose my wiliness. I’ll be a fucking lapdog!

Even as I try to reject this idea, my wolf argues with me. The animal half wants nothing more than to curl up in Lucy’s lap and never leave it.

And now I have to admit, I don’t want to leave her. Even if she obviously wants me to go.

With a deep, rattling sigh, I turn to go back to the house. I have absolutely no choice in the matter, but part of me is relieved. If the spell wasn’t there, I’d run. Whenever I felt pain like this in the past, I just ran until I left it far behind me. It always caught up to me, but the only thing I’ve ever known is escape.

Now, I’m being forced back to Lucy. No matter how this situation is going to go, I have to talk to her and try to coexist until her mentor comes to break the spell.

Did I really think we could stay tethered together for the rest of our lives?

It’s an odd realization, but I really did believe that for a short while. I used the spell as an excuse to commit to this life, telling myself I didn’t have a choice.

And now that I have one, I’d choose to stay… if Lucy wanted me.

But obviously, she doesn’t.

I walk slowly across the lawn towards the door. I don’t know how to do this—to go in there and keep my shit together, to talk to her as if everything is fine when all I want to do is scream.

I go inside as quietly as I can, hoping she might have gone to bed. When I hear her moving around in the kitchen, I’m tempted to avoid her completely.

I walk down the hall, following the faint tang of peaches in the air. Standing just outside the kitchen door, I watch her tidying up. She hums under her breath, quickly taking utensils and plates from the drying rack and stacking them away. She looks much happier than when I left the house, and it confirms all my fears.

She wants me gone.

I go into the kitchen, making a bit of noise so she notices me. When her sea-blue eyes flick up to meet mine, I catch a hint of tension flash across her face before her expression smooths into calm.

It’s completely nuts, but I’m still worried about her. She looks pale, and her cheeks have lost their healthy pink glow. Even her eyes, usually so bright, look dull and flat instead of shimmering like a tropical bay.

She’s put on her thick, fluffy robe so I can’t look closely at the rest of her, but I’d swear she was losing weight. Thinking back over the last couple of days, I realize she hasn’t been eating much.

Lucy goes back to stacking plates, using a bit of unnecessary force this time.

I’m annoying her. She can’t wait for the spell to be broken so she doesn’t have to deal with me.

“Did you have something to eat?” I ask.

She shakes her head, not turning to look at me. “Not hungry.”

“You should eat. It’s been a while since lunch.”

“If you’re hungry, you make something.”

She still doesn’t turn around, and pain of a new kind rips through me. Lucy is right there, almost close enough to touch, but at the same time, she’s further away from me than she’s ever been.

What does this mean? We’ll never talk again, never see each other after the spell is broken? Is she going to kick me out of the house right away?

The idea of never touching her again terrifies me. I suddenly realize the full implications of what’s about to happen.

I was such a fool to trust anyone, to allow myself to love. All people ever do is leave me. Discard me. Why didn’t I remember that this time?

The answer is simple. I let myself believe that the spell would keep us together. I didn’t care anymore if my feelings were real or engineered—I had the perfect excuse to let my barriers come down.

Lucy keeps wiping the counter down as if it’s not already clean. The cold silence between us cuts deep, reminding me of the times we’ve spent in this kitchen laughing and flirting as we helped each other cook and clean up.

Then I’m reminded of after dinner, when we’d go to the couch or straight to bed, where we would immerse ourselves in each other and forget the world and all its pain.

I get up so quickly I knock my chair over. Lucy stops cleaning the counter but doesn’t look at me.

This is fucking ridiculous. Would she keep ignoring me if I jumped on the table and danced a fucking jig?

Pushing past her, I put the kettle on, automatically filling it up with enough water for two. By force of habit, I grab two cups and two tea bags, putting three scoops of sugar in mine and one in Lucy’s.

“I didn’t say I wanted tea,” she says, watching me.

“Hmm?” I feign ignorance. “Oh, I wasn’t paying attention. Do you want tea?”

“Sure.”

I dare to hope that we might regain some of our previous intimacy as she sits down at the table. I fill the cups and take them over to her, bringing a jar of biscuits as well.

The biscuits are my own creation, a whole-food energy bar full of coconut, oats, and nuts, blended with brown sugar and raw honey. The customers love them, and Lucy told me I’m free to invent any recipe I like if it’ll be this much of a success.

I pause with a biscuit halfway to my mouth as I come to another horrible realization.

Will she even want me to work in the bakery?

It’s beyond ridiculous that a tough, bar-fighting, leather-clad biker like me would come to enjoy baking—or be good at it—but that’s exactly what has happened. I love getting into the warm kitchen hours before dawn, wrestling the bread into loaves so it can prove, making tiny, delicate cupcakes, chunky muffins, and complex layer cakes.

Lucy tells me practically every day that I have a talent for baking and shouldn’t let my skill go to waste. Apparently, it took her years to get as good as I am now, and she’s openly admitted to envying me for that.

I watch her slowly sip her tea and nibble on a biscuit, desperate to ask if I’ll still be able to bake once the spell is broken. But the look on her face is so dark, I don’t dare open my mouth.

I can join the team at New Hope, maybe. They bake there for the market. I suppose that will do.

As Lucy finishes her tea and a couple of biscuits, the color comes back into her cheeks. She gives me a small smile.

“I do feel better,” she says. “Thank you.”

“No problem.” I don’t know how to follow up my comment. Usually, we’d go to bed together, but now I don’t know if she wants me there. I can’t ask about work tomorrow morning because for all I know, I’m not wanted there, either.

“Well, I’m going to bed,” Lucy announces, standing up. She looks down at me with challenge in her eyes, as if she’s daring me to force my way into her bed.

“Okay,” I say, putting more effort into my casual, flippant tone than I’ve ever devoted to anything in my life. “Sleep well.”

Lucy stares at me for a moment, clearly taken aback. She gathers her robe more tightly around herself, taking a step back.

“I guess… I’ll see you in the morning,” she says.

“Sure. If I get up early enough.”

“You don’t want to work at the bakery tomorrow?”

“Maybe. I have been thinking about starting work over at New Hope, though. They have a good business running, and their focus on local produce is interesting. You could take me over there to check that out, if you want.”

“Oh,” she chokes out, her voice strained. “That’s good, then… if you’ve decided what you want to do.”

“Not fully,” I answer. “I’m just coming up with ideas at this point. If I’m not going to be here anymore, I’ve got to have some alternatives.”

She’s backing away slowly, her eyes wide and shimmering with crystal-blue waves.

She can’t wait to get away from me.

“Well, let me know what you’re doing in the morning,” she says. “I can still use you in the bakery for the time being.”

“You got it, babe,” I say, making a little pistol motion with one hand. “Goodnight.”

“Goodnight,” she says, turning and walking away down the hall.

I think of her pulling off her robe and climbing under the covers. In my mind, she’s begging for my touch, moaning with pleasure as she grabs me and rocks against my body.

I know that can’t be the truth. She must be jumping into bed, pleased to have it all to herself, finally. If she wanted me, she would have told me to come to bed with her and talked about our routine for tomorrow morning. Instead, she bolted as if she was trapped in the room with a gator.

My chest aches as I contemplate a night on the couch. Even though I’ve spent my life alone, I never really knew loneliness until now.

This is what I was protecting myself from, all these years. I knew once I had intimacy, I couldn’t ever go back to the way I was before.

I comfort myself with thoughts of Caleb and Rider. I have a family now, and I’m not completely lost. I don’t have to go back to that brutal, violent existence. I can do better for myself, and I know I deserve it, too.

But I am going to miss Lucy every single day of my life.