Chapter 23 - Lucy

Amanda doesn’t let go of my hand the whole way home. I’m shivering so badly, I can barely walk, and it isn’t just because of the blizzard blowing down from the peaks.

As we reach the backyard, I think I hear the baying of wolves, and I pause to look back up the mountain. All I can see is the thick, swirling clouds of snow and the chips of ice raining down on us ahead of the blizzard.

I walk into the living room, barely aware of Amanda hurrying around the house and making sure the windows and curtains are shut. I find my bottle of tequila and sit down on the couch, wrapping one of Peter’s blankets around me.

It smells like him. It’s almost like he’s still here.

Burying my nose deep in the soft folds, I take a deep breath. With my eyes closed, I can almost forget everything that happened today, imagining myself back where I was a week ago, when I still had him in my arms.

“Hey, save some for me,” Amanda says, coming into the living room. “You weren’t planning to finish off that bottle all by yourself, surely?”

“I don’t know,” I answer. “It’s going down pretty easy.”

“I should be making winter brew,” she says, pouring a glass for herself as she sits down. “Remember how we used to make it for the winter festival?”

“Oh, God, Amanda,” I laugh. “I was, like, sixteen then!”

“Yeah, I know,” she answers, laughing, too. “But you do remember?”

“Yes,” I say softly, closing my eyes to savor the memories properly. “Dancing naked under the moon, with a big cauldron of sweet, warm orange brew, full of raw honey.”

“Those were the days,” she says. “There’s nothing like that going on in Silver Meadows now?”

“No,” I say regretfully, finishing my drink. “I’m not even sure there are other witches here.”

“Oh, there are,” she replies. “I can feel them. Just a hint of power, here and there. You should bring them together in a coven.”

“Yeah, thanks for the idea,” I say a bit sarcastically. “But it’s obvious I can’t even keep my shit together, let alone anyone else’s.”

“Not what I was suggesting,” she says, rubbing my shoulder. “Just that it might be nice for you to have sisters to lean on.”

“I have friends,” I say stubbornly.

“Yes, you do. But are they witches?”

“No. Wolves, mostly. Well… there’s one girl who might be a witch.”

“Witches and wolves do well together,” Amanda says, gently stroking my hair. “But sometimes you just need your own kind to understand you. Nothing else will do.”

“Then I’m glad you’re here,” I say, hugging her. “I couldn’t be alone right now.”

“Tell me what happened,” she urges me. “From the beginning.”

I pour myself another drink as I let the events flash by in my mind. Every image is painful, but a good dose of tequila lets me examine my feelings without crumbling into a sobbing wreck.

I begin when Fiona left, and how much it affected me to suddenly be alone. Reluctantly, I admit my envy of her to Amanda, and my selfish request for the universe to bring me “a man like Rider.”

“Oh, dear,” Amanda chuckles. “That’s why you thought the spell went wrong? Because you made a specific request?”

“Yeah,” I say, frowning. “Isn’t that what happened?”

She shakes her head. “That sentence could have been interpreted any number of ways. The spell worked, and it brought your true love to you.”

“So why did he just run away?” I grab her hand. “How can he leave me like this, after all we’ve shared?”

Amanda hugs me, rocking me and stroking my hair. “Shh, sweet girl. It will be alright, I promise you.”

“You don’t know that,” I murmur, clinging to her.

She comforts me for a while, letting me cry. Afterwards, we drink some more, and she distracts me by talking about our old times together and the new things going on with the coven up north. Eventually, as I curl up on the couch, my eyelids getting heavy, I drop off to sleep.

When I wake, Amanda is gone, with a note left on the coffee table.

Sorry I had to leave, Lucy. Something came up, and it can’t wait. Let me know how you’re doing, and I’ll come back soon and visit! All my love, Amanda.

I can’t help feeling a bit abandoned, and lonely again. Waking up in blankets smelling of Peter doesn’t help, either. When I get up to look out the window, I see the world has been covered in thick blankets of shining white snow. Most of the roads are probably closed.

I shuffle to the kitchen to make a cup of tea, but my stomach flips right up into my throat at the mere thought of tea or food. As I make the tea, my stomach starts to growl with hunger, and I drop my face into my hand.

What the fuck is going on with me? Am I hungry or not?

After a couple of sips of tea, I eat a piece of toast, very slowly. When my stomach growls wildly again, I suddenly become ravenous, devouring a tub of blueberries, three cups of yogurt, and a bowl of muesli.

Even though I’m still confused about my physical condition, the food has given me a decent amount of energy. I take a long, hot shower, emerging refreshed and clear-headed.

I’m fine. I’m totally good. I can handle this, no problem.

Then I go into the living room.

The couch is exactly as I left it, piled high with Peter’s blankets and pillows from the last time he slept there. The loss cuts into my heart, stealing my breath and setting a chill through my guts.

I start shivering so badly, I feel sick again, and I have to sit down and take long, even breaths to calm myself down. Eventually, my stomach settles, but my emotions don’t.

He ran from me, and he hasn’t come back. Not a single message on my phone. Surely, if he cared, he would have said something by now.

My phone buzzes on the table, and I stare at it suspiciously. Hesitantly, I pick it up, looking at the screen with a mixture of dread and hope.

The text is from Gina, and I don’t know if I’m relieved or disappointed.

“Hey, Lucy. We have a little crowd here at Shelley’s, offering relief for people affected by the storm. Do you have any leftovers from the bakery we could use? Thanks!”

I realize that we do have a lot of leftovers, thanks to Peter. He never let us waste a single thing, and he set up new procedures for the kitchen. The fridge will be stocked with muffins, cookies, biscuits, and cakes that are still perfectly good to eat but not fresh enough to sell.

The last thing I want to do is go out, but I text Gina back and tell her I’ll be there soon. When I head out to the car, a snow plow is already cleaning the street, so I don’t have any trouble stopping at the bakery before heading to Shelley’s.

The back doors are wide open, and the small parking lot is full of cars. I manage to find a spot not far away and stagger towards the bar with a big carton of baked goods.

“Lucy!” Gina calls, waving. “There you are. Good lord, girl, let one of the boys take that crate!”

“Gladly,” I say, relinquishing it to Jack. “There’s more in my car if you want to send someone over.”

Gina gives a little whistle and gestures to Kyle. “You heard the lady. Go get those crates.”

“Will do,” Kyle says, trotting off across the parking lot.

“The place is overrun,” I say as I look around. “The storm was pretty bad then?”

“Yeah, some areas of town got hit with gale-force winds and ripped the roofs off a couple of houses. We’re just getting immediate relief out to as many people as we can.”

“Do you need some help?”

“We’re good here. Besides, you look really tired. Just go and sit with Leslie for a bit. She’s inside.”

“Okay,” I answer, going in and heading up the back. Leslie is sitting in the far corner, out of the way of the crowd. She has her feet up on a nearby chair as she scowls up at Lena.

“I’m fine. Will you stop?” Leslie growls.

“I don’t know,” Lena says, shaking her head. “You look pale.”

“I’m not!” Leslie protests. “Will you leave me alone?”

“Never,” Lena snaps. “Not in a million lifetimes. Your health and safety, and that of your pup, is my utmost concern.”

“Oh, Leslie!” I cry, hurrying over to take her hand. “You’re pregnant?”

“Yes,” she says with a deep, rattling sigh. “But I’m not a damn invalid. I haven’t even been sick.”

A faint tingle of discomfort runs down my spine, but I ignore it.

Lena agrees to leave, but only if I promise to keep my eye on Leslie and not let her lift anything heavy. As soon as she goes, Leslie sighs in relief.

“I love that girl, I really do,” Leslie says. “But if she doesn’t stop hovering over me, I might have to wolf out on her.”

“How does that work?” I ask, curious. “Can you shift while you’re pregnant?”

“We can,” she answers. “But we shouldn’t, unless it’s an emergency. The way everyone is treating me, the emergency might be getting the hell away from well-meaning pack members.”

I chuckle, but it catches in my throat. I try to hide it, but Leslie is already taking a closer look at me.

“You look like hell,” she says with a frown. “Were you affected by the storm? You didn’t have to come in if it was that bad.”

“No, no,” I say, waving a hand. “It’s… well…”

I don’t want to unburden myself to a pregnant woman, but at the same time, Amanda was right. I need to open up more and learn to trust my friends.

“It’s Peter,” I say, letting the words out in a rush. “He… he left yesterday, and he hasn’t come back.”

“Oh, hun.” Leslie leans over and hugs me. “It must be a relief to have it all over with.”

I suffer through a moment of horrible confusion before I realize that Leslie only knows about the initial spell, not everything that happened afterwards.

“No, it’s not like that,” I mumble, trying not to cry. “We actually had something—or, I thought we did. Then my mentor said she was coming to break the spell, and he got really weird and distant with me. We found out there was no tether, that the spell had already been broken. I thought he’d stay, but he ran from me.”

“Whoa,” Leslie says in a hushed voice. “That’s a lot to take in. You said he got weird when you told him about your mentor coming?”

“Yeah. We were good before that. Like, really good. I couldn’t be sure if it was the spell or not, but I thought he was… maybe falling in love with me.”

“Hmm,” Leslie murmurs. “I think I see what’s going on here. I, too, know the love of a taciturn man. You announcing that you wanted the spell broken might have translated to ‘get the fuck out’ in his mind.”

“ What ?”

“I know. It doesn’t really make sense, but guys carrying trauma are really complicated.”

I let out a breath. “You can say that again.”

“But you do love him, right?”

I nod, letting the tears come. “I do. I can’t stand the thought he might be hurting because of me.”

“Then you need to fight for him, girl! Don’t give up. Break down those walls and storm your way right into his heart! Well, once the roads are clear, I mean.”

“Okay,” I nod, feeling my courage return as Leslie’s words sink in. “I will. Thank you.”

“Hey, no problem! Thanks for getting Lena out of my face.”

“Happy to help,” I say, chuckling. I touch Leslie’s belly, and then I get that cold shiver again.

But this time, I know why.

Things are adding up in my head. No matter which way I spin it, the evidence is all pointing in one direction.

No, it can’t be!

“Leslie, I’m going to head off,” I say, trying to tamp down my rising panic. “Are you good here?”

“More than good, unless Lena comes back,” Leslie says. “You call me if you need anything, okay?”

“I will,” I promise, hurrying from the bar.

On my way home, I’m lucky enough to find a drugstore open. I rush inside, buy what I need, then drive the rest of the way home, feeling like I’ve just put a live bomb down on the seat next to me.

Don’t panic. Don’t think of anything until you’re finished.

Panicking anyway, I rush into the house and straight to the bathroom, where I rip the pregnancy test out of its package and read the instructions. I take the test and pace while I wait the required time for the result to show.

I don’t even know what I’m hoping for. Yes or no?

I take a deep breath to steel myself before I open my eyes and see the color.

It’s blue.

I’m pregnant.