Chapter 7

After Faron wasout of surgery and we had been allowed to see him briefly, Kyle and I agreed to go home for awhile. Faron looked so vulnerable with IVs running into his arms, electrodes attached to his brain, and the other machines that monitored his vitals, but he was out of surgery and breathing on his own.

I shuddered, flashing back to the Matrix scene, where Neo woke up and was jettisoned out of the pod in which he'd been kept. But I kept that vision to myself. After Kyle promised to call me the moment Faron's condition changed, I left with Bree. She dropped me off at home before taking off to tend to Atlas and Oscar. I promised to call her later in the evening.

As I darted through the rain toward the house, I glanced over at my shop. Every window was boarded up and it looked like an old, abandoned shed. I felt unaccountably lonely and sad, as though I'd lost something from my childhood.

Grams was there, waiting with May and Bran, as I entered the door, stopping to strip off my shoes and jacket. My hair was soaked through, and I was cold, shivering as I hung my jacket on a hook in the foyer. I'd installed tile below the coat hooks, so that when it was absolutely pouring, water wouldn't drip from the outerwear onto the hardwoods and ruin them.

Bran was in the living room. As he saw me, he vanished into the bathroom, returning with a huge fluffy towel, and a second that was a bit smaller. "Here, for you and for your hair. You should go change and get out of those wet things."

He was right—I was soaked to the skin. Outside, the downpour—or should I say deluge—continued. I gratefully took the towels, wrapping my hair up in one of them as I blotted my face with the larger one. But as I moved toward the woodstove, the heat and warmth barely seemed to touch the frost that had chilled my heart and body.

"I think I'll take a hot shower. I won't be long, and then I'll tell you everything that happened." I held his gaze for a moment. "Thank you for staying, for waiting for me."

Fancypants divebombed us. "Go get yourself dried off. You're dripping on the floor," he said, but the smile was implied behind the light tone of voice.

"I love you too," I said, sticking my tongue out at the dragonette. But before he could answer, I disappeared into my bedroom. As I shut the door behind me, I slowly began to unzip my jeans, slid them off and tossed them into the laundry basket. I pulled the turtleneck over my shoulders and added the sweater to the growing pile of dirty clothes. Then, before the chill air thoroughly pierced me, I turned the water to hot and stepped under the steaming flow.

The water hit me like a warm embrace, and I closed my eyes as it slowly began to flood through my body, driving away the cold. I chose a warm vanilla cream scented bath gel and lathered up, luxuriating as the heat penetrated my pores. Then, melting into the warmth and the coziness, I let go and burst into tears.

I was crying for Faron—for a strong, tall man, he looked so small and fragile against all the tubes and monitors that had been attached to his body. I cried for my shop, my beautiful shop that was now tainted and torn. I cried for my cousin Owen, dead far too soon, and my mother who used her pain as a way to gain sympathy. I cried for my aunt Ciara, who lost her son, and for Bree, facing a potential lawsuit. I cried for Bran, because I knew how he felt about me and I desperately wanted to return his affection. But what would that mean if I did, and would it hurt more in the long run?

I cried until the tears ran out, until the water cooled, and then—exhausted and no longer shivering—I stepped out of the shower and sat at the vanity, wondering what to do next.

* * *

Grams haddinner on the table by the time I emerged from my bedroom, wearing a pair of palazzo pants in a soft Jersey knit, along with a fuzzy V-neck sweater. I dried my hair, repaired my makeup, and—finally feeling presentable—headed into the living room.

Dinner was waiting. Grams had made chicken parmesan, with noodles in an alfredo sauce on the side. A bowl of green beans sauteed with bacon and an apple pie rounded out the meal.

"It smells divine," I said, hugging Grams before I sat down next to her at the table. Bran and May joined us.

"Do you feel better?" Grams asked.

I nodded. "I think I needed time to reflect. It's been such a long, emotional day and I'm exhausted, on all levels. I didn't actually do a lot but…"

"Emotions can wear us out far faster than activity," Grams said, handing me the bowl of noodles in alfredo sauce.

I spooned a hearty serving onto my plate. "Agreed." Turning to Bran, I said, "Thank you for boarding up the windows. I don't know what I'm going to do about the shop. I lost a lot of money today, and I also lost confidence. So much has happened in the past year. I'm beginning to feel like I should just buy a little cabin in the woods and hide out for the rest of my life. I can grow food. I'm not all that materialistic. Do I really need a job when I could sell this place and buy a smaller one outright with the proceeds?"

"Nonsense," Grams said as May handed Fancypants his dinner. He was sitting in his high chair, waiting for his special plate.

"I'm sorry," I said, immediately feeling remiss. "I should have served you first."

"You don't need to apologize," Fancypants said, delicately wiping his mouth with his napkin. "You've had a hard day. May kindly fixed me a plate. What is there to worry over?"

"Yeah but…" I stopped, starting to feel that I sounded like a martyr. And if there's one thing I couldn't stand, it was a dramatic, self-serving actor, which I considered martyrs to be. "Thanks, May."

"You're welcome, my dear," May said.

"Anyway, I don't know what to do about the shop. I wish Daisy would call."

"She hasn't?"

I paused. I'd turned my notifications down on my phone while at the hospital. "Let me check. Excuse me." I brought out my phone and glanced at the lock screen. There were several messages there and so I opened the phone and checked both my voice mail and my texts. There weren't any new texts, but there was one voice-mail message, and sure enough, it was from Daisy. I turned on the speaker and pushed play.

"Elphyra, this is Daisy. We found several prints in your shop. We have three names to go over with you, to see if they're regular customers. We also have several unidentified prints, but there's nothing we can do about those. We've run them through the national database but no results yet. We sent the urine samples—such as we could gather—off to the labs, but I'm not going to make any bets on them.

"We checked out your two dissatisfied customers and both have alibis for last night and early this morning, and both expressed regret. I believe them—I've got a good eye for people. So, I suggest you contact your security alarm company today. Don't wait. We'll have a prowl car come out a couple times through the night for the next few days, but unfortunately, the department doesn't have the funds to keep that going. Call me when you can." Then, there was a little static, and the message ended.

"So…" I stared at my plate. "I'd welcome suggestions."

"My readings just aren't pinpointing the issue," May said. "I wish they were, but the cards are being stubborn."

"Well, we know there's some woman out there who seems to be jealous of me for something. And that the Tower card is at play—a delight for any season." I rolled my eyes, then snorted. "With the two pissed off clients checking out as okay, I can't think of who else might be behind this. I haven't made that many enemies. It did occur to me, however, that maybe there's someone in Faron's pack who isn't happy that he's dating me. I could ask Kyle, I suppose."

"I'd leave it up to Daisy," Bran said. "The moment you go snooping around in Pack politics, you're going to get your fingers burned and piss off a lot of people who see you as intruding on a space where you don't belong."

"Or where they think you don't belong," May added. "Shifters, especially wolf shifters, can be thick as thieves and they don't appreciate anybody they see as an outsider interfering."

Bran stared at his plate. "Mother's right. If you try to insert yourself while Faron's in a coma and it could be really bad, especially since you're a witch. You know how shifters view witches. Kyle could try to protect you, but I don't think you can count on him the same way you can count on Faron. At the most, mention it to Daisy. She can investigate in a neutral way without triggering them."

I wasn't sure how I felt about that, but I nodded. "All right. I'll trust you on that. I have little experience with shifters."

"That's another thing—they have an innate distrust of us, and you might just spark off a town war between the witches and the shifters." May looked over at Grams. "What's your opinion on this, Morgance?"

My great-grandmother set down her fork and pushed her dessert plate back. "I think May and Bran make salient points. You do not want to get Faron's community in a tizzy. You go snooping around, flaunting the fact that he's chosen a non-shifter for a partner, and you're asking for trouble. At least you aren't pregnant."

I blinked. "What?" That was the last thing I expected to hear coming out of her mouth. "What's that got to do with anything?"

"If you were, you'd be carrying the potential heir to their Pack's throne, although I'm not sure how the succession line runs for half-breeds. But one way or another, if you were carrying Faron's child, it would put you in a most precarious situation. Suppose that one of the women in the Pack does want to take your place? Suppose you were pregnant? The easiest way to sever the tie is to kill the woman carrying the heir, or to initiate a miscarriage. Since you're not pregnant, I'm hoping that if it is someone from the Pack, that they'll think a warning will work."

Grams finished the last bite of her dessert and then stood. "May, would you help me clear the table?"

"I can do it—" I started, but she shook her head.

"We're on it. You and Bran go relax in the living room."

I knew what she was doing. Grams was pulling for me and Bran. While she liked Faron, she wasn't keen on me getting involved with a shifter—regardless of the type. But I kept quiet as Bran escorted me into the living room.

We sat on the sofa while May and Grams talked in quiet tones as they cleaned.

"She really wants us together," Bran finally said.

"I know. I'm sorry she's pushing me on you." But as the words came out of my mouth, I shook my head. "Never mind. I'm not apologizing."

"Good, because you know how I feel," he said, his eyes warm and inviting.

I nodded, blushing lightly. I wasn't shy about my body, or my sexuality, but I was just blooming out into relationship territory again and all summer I'd felt adrift, ever since the two men had come into my life. Plus, I was starting to have some unwelcome thoughts about Rian that made me nervous. It threw me into a light of which I felt muchly unsure of.

Faron and I had an instant at-odds attraction. We butted heads, and while we weren't polar opposites, there was a sizzle that came with sparring with a partner. With Bran, it was slow-burn, he was just as handsome as Faron, though where Faron had dark hair, Bran was light. Faron was arrogant, Bran was quietly confident. Both were intelligent, and both respected the women in their lives. And I was attracted to both. They complemented different parts of my life.

"Can I ask you a question, and it's not to hurt you…" Bran hesitated. "If you don't want to answer, I won't push it."

"What is it?" I didn't want to hear, because I knew what he was going to ask, and I didn't want to think about it.

"What if he doesn't come out of the coma? What if…"

I stared at my hands. "Neither Faron nor I made any promises. If they can't bring him out of it, I'll have to move on, won't I? I think…When I lost Rian, I developed a fear of losing the people important to me. I'm so tired of the bad guys hurting the people I love." I looked up at Bran, and for a moment, a look of pain washed through his eyes.

"Love? You're in love with Faron, then?"

In answering, I chose my words carefully. "Not in the way you think. I love him, yes, and I love you. I've come to care for both of you and I'm not talking just friendship. I loved Rian with all my heart and he was stripped away from me. I love my cousin Owen, but he—too—has been snatched out of my life. And Faron, for now, he's beyond my touch. I'm beginning to feel like a jinx, to be honest."

"How do you feel about me? You said that you love me, too?" Bran asked. "You can be honest. I'm a big boy, I can take it."

It occurred to me that it was time to verbalize what I was starting to suspect about myself. Bran didn't deserve to be left hanging. It wasn't fair, to either of us.

I worried my lip, trying to word my thoughts in the best way I could so there were no misunderstandings.

"Bran, if Faron hadn't come on the scene, I'd probably be with you. He was…unexpected. You were unexpected. I didn't foresee any of this when I moved to Starlight Hollow. With Rian, he seemed to be all I needed, but over the past year, I've slowly come to realize that I have such different sides to who I am, that now…I don't think he could have sustained that. Rian was wonderful, but I ignored the parts of our relationship that weren't…that were lacking. Faron fits in my life—one side of it. And you fit another side of me. I find you both sexy as hell, yet I don't want to hurt either one of you. I think…I can't promise my heart to only one person right now. But…I might be able to promise it to two people."

I expected him to bluster, but he surprised me. He reached out and took my hands.

"Are you saying that you could be with us both? That you wouldn't mind…" Bran's expression turned from concerned to curious.

I licked my lips. "I'm saying, that I don't want to choose. I want both of you in my life, however that ends up looking. If it's as friends, in order to keep you near, then I'll back off from Faron and won't touch him again." I let out a long breath. "But if you both agree, if you don't mind sharing…"

"That sounds complicated," Bran said. He hesitated, thinking for a moment, then said, "I'm listening."

"Nobody ever said life was going to be easy," I said. "Most relationships are messy. Once you involve another person into your life, you invite chaos. Two people require compromise. Three? I can't envision how it would look, but it must work because I have friends who make it work. I'm not saying it wouldn't be difficult, especially since I'm not that interested in a friend with benefits situation."

Bran held my gaze for what felt like a million years, then he slowly leaned down, never taking his eyes off me, and he pressed his lips against mine. They were cool and magical, lighting up the dark. With Faron, it was a white fire, fully focused in the day, sunlight on an afternoon picnic while the drone of bees lingered in the air. But with Bran, kissing him was midnight under the moon, in a garden filled with fragrant jasmine and oleander.

I pressed against him, finally giving in to the desire for him. His arms were strong, he was muscled from the work he did on the farm, but he was also well read, and as smart, if not more intelligent, than the wolf shifter. He pulled me against his chest, and I straddled his hips, leaning in for another kiss, and yet another one.

After a moment, I broke away, gasping and hungry for him, as the sound of May and Grams's voices drew near. I scrambled back into my seat, breathless, as Bran nonchalantly picked up a magazine.

"Well, the dishes are done," Grams said. She stopped, eyeing us carefully. "May needs to go home, Bran. It was good seeing you, and thank you for watching over my great-granddaughter."

Bran stood, giving me a smoldering look. But we just said goodnight with an awkward hug, and after I hugged May, they left. By then, Grams had headed into her room, and I was left standing alone, not knowing what to think, but thinking of Bran and what he would be like in my bed, inside me.