23. Willow

TWENTY-THREE

Willow

Even though it had been hours since he said it, I could still feel the anger and the hurt from Caleb’s callous announcement. The moment that the words left his mouth, I’d felt the slice of pain as if he’d stabbed me himself. And in a way he had.

My foster mother always said words hit harder than blows, and she was right because, with each word he uttered, I felt like he’d punched me.

My chest still felt tight as I paced the room I’d been put in. My reception to Blackridge Peak, as they called it, had been friendly but off . I knew I wasn’t welcome here. Not that they were abrasive or unkind—they weren’t Caleb—but it was clear that they wished I was somewhere else.

Anywhere else.

And so did I. Did he think I wanted to be here? Did he think I wanted to know about men that shifted into wolves? No one wanted to know this! No sane, rational human being wanted to accept that there was more than them in the world .

Humans were at the top of the food chain with their intelligence and opposable thumbs, and to have that challenged by something supernatural… my God , the world would implode. Did they not think that I knew that? I completely understood that they were at risk here, by letting me into their world…but that didn’t mean I wanted to be here.

Swallowing past the lump in my throat, I tried not to think about it. I tried not to think of Caleb’s harsh words, but the familiar sting of rejection, of abandonment, was all too close to the surface. I was proud of myself for walking past him, for approaching the biggest man I’d ever seen in my life and introducing myself.

My voice had been strong, my back had been straight, and I’d been strong because I would not, under any circumstances, let Caleb see how much his words had affected me. Not when his mind was already halfway down the mountain.

Cannon had led me to a bunker. I’d had a moment of panic, but I felt no ill will from any of the three men. He’d explained that, while I was welcome, I was to be kept apart from the rest of his people. It made sense. I wasn’t feeling particularly sociable anyway.

They’d both stayed with me while Mal—he insisted I call him Doc—had taken blood samples from me, and then I’d been given a hearty lunch and a room to rest.

The room was simple in decor. It screamed temporary accommodation, maybe a borderline hint of retained guest more than welcome guest , but the door was open, which had assuaged any fear of being a captive, and the lighting was adjustable, not interrogatory. Plus, the sheets on the bed were clean. There was a small shower room, which meant I didn’t have to share with anyone else or have any need to leave the confines of this space.

I was tired, and the option of a nap would be welcome, but I couldn’t help but be drawn to the blank sketchbook and pack of pencils lying on the small desk. They hadn’t hidden their agenda at all. They wanted to see what I drew, so eager to make a connection between the supernatural and…me.

There was a first time for everything.

When Cannon walked me to the bunker, I knew Caleb hadn’t followed. I didn’t know where he went. Hell, he could be back in Whispering Pines by now for all I knew.

“Slight exaggeration,” I muttered.

That had been another lie he told me. They hadn’t taken blood from him. Doc had looked at me with surprise when I asked how much blood they’d need from Caleb. Cannon had said nothing, but I’d seen the look in his eye when I’d mumbled about my misunderstanding.

“You should rest.”

His voice startled me, and I yelped, the sound seeming louder in the sparse space.

Marching to the half-open door, I looked into the hall to see him sitting on the floor across from my room.

“Surprised to see you still here.” I was being a snarky bitch, but I didn’t care. He deserved it.

Caleb looked away, his jaw clenched. The tension was back in his shoulders, and I hated that I was the reason it was there, that this situation was the reason that it was there.

“You don’t understand.”

“Then explain it to me, Caleb.”

“No.” He turned to look at me, and I flinched at the pain I saw there, but he quickly looked away again. I knew he was hiding something, holding back, keeping his past hidden from me, and I knew I had no right to ask what it was.

We weren’t friends. We weren’t lovers. Sometimes I wondered if we were even acquaintances. I meant nothing to him. But still, I knew there was something, and I couldn’t explain why, but I felt that it was something he should share with me.

Or maybe I was just nosy. He’d looked after me, protected me, and was striving to find answers to my paintings, and the truth was, he owed me nothing.

However, I wasn’t sure if I accepted that reality.

“So that’s it?” I asked, my voice steadier than I felt. “You’re happy to let them solve the mystery of my art, and then you just…disappear?”

“Yeah.” His voice was muted as if he didn’t want to be overheard. “It’s better that way.”

“Better for who?” When he didn’t answer, I wanted to scream, but instead, I tried to remain calm. “Caleb? Better for who? How is leaving me here, with these strangers, how is it better?”

Caleb stood slowly, brushing off the back of his legs. He wouldn’t meet my eyes when he spoke. “You’ll be safer here,” he told me flatly. “Cannon will protect you from whoever is out there hunting you.”

“Look at me.”

Slowly he raised his head. His eyes were dark, almost black, and they were unreadable. What had I hoped to see? Pain? Regret? Had I forgotten who I was dealing with?

“Who says those shifters are only hunting me?” My question was met with his silence. And more silence stretched between us when he said nothing at all.

Caleb ran both his hands over his hair, the sudden movement causing me to jump, it was so unexpected. If he noticed, he didn’t comment. “You should really be resting.”

“You should really be staying.”

His flat, unimpressed look was the final straw. With a grunt, I turned my back on him and slammed the door to the room closed.

Sinking onto the bed, I dropped my head into my hands. He was right, and I hated that, but I was exhausted. My ME had really done me a huge favor and stayed at a manageable level, almost cooperating, considering the miles I’d walked and the adrenaline that I’d experienced, but now that my brain had accepted that I was safe, my body was catching up to the fact that I’d pushed it too far.

The four vials of blood that the doctor had taken hadn’t drained me, but that last encounter with Caleb had.

I knew nothing about shifters. But I remembered that wolf packs were a topic we’d covered in middle school. They were seldom alone, preferring to hunt and live in packs. Clever, majestic animals, I was always sympathetic to them.

Movies made them the villain so often, or they were the dog-like pets that were domestically trained and their wildness tamed. Both scenarios had always bothered me.

Now here I was in a bunker with people who changed into wolves and who were analyzing my blood.

Knowing I was giving in to his suggestion, and knowing I would never admit it if he asked, I lay down.

From what I’d seen of these shifters, they seemed to hunt and stay in packs, very much like the predator I was taught about. There had been three at the inn. I now suspected that the man who tackled Caleb was one of them. I think there had been two in the forest as we journeyed here, and Cannon and his companions were there in numbers to greet us.

Yet Caleb was always alone. Why? What had happened in his past to make him choose a solitary life? He said he was a hiker. A drifter. What had driven him to never stay in one place? He’d told me he had connections, but I hadn’t seen them yet.

He hadn’t wanted to come here, but he had for me, and I sensed that was a huge deal for him. Cannon welcomed him back ; was this his home?

It would make sense that it was. He was reluctant to be here. Maybe his family was nearby? I didn’t need to know, and he didn’t want to tell me, but that didn’t stop me from getting off the bed and opening the door, intent on finding him and asking him.

He was blunt all the time. It was time to do the same to him. I wasn’t expecting him to still be sitting on the floor. “Caleb?”

He didn’t look up. “The one and only.”

“Why are you still on the floor?”

“Why aren’t you lying down like you need to be?”

Inhaling deeply, I tried a different approach. “Can we talk?” He looked up, and I saw the familiar mask of indifference. Familiar and so infuriating. “Why are you doing this?” I whispered, the words slipping out before I could stop them. “Why do you try so hard to push me away?”

I thought I saw a chink in his armor when I spoke, but it was gone so fast I knew it was more likely wishful thinking on my part.

“I’m not pushing,” he said, the finality in his tone making my heart sink. “You’d have to be close to be pushed away.”

Bastard . That stung, he knew it did, but his hard face gave nothing away. “Fine.” I hated that my voice cracked. “Then go. Don’t sit outside my door to make sure I’m safe. I know that’s why you’re here. Don’t lie to me, not again.”

Caleb raised an eyebrow. “So now you want me to go?”

I shrugged. “If you want to go, then go. I can figure this out. I have people here who are willing to help me.”

Caleb held my stare, his dark eyes black and fathomless, and my heart started to race when I thought I’d finally gotten through to him. His head jerked in a nod, and any glimmer of hope that I had that he would stay was snuffed out with his next words.

“Take care of yourself.” His gaze swept over me once. “Doc will be on hand to help manage your ME, but you know your body best. Rest as much as you can.”

He was giving me health advice? Before I got the chance to challenge him, he turned and walked away. My palm gripped the doorway, stopping me from running after him. He was contrary and rude, but he was safe .

He was familiar.

I wasn’t ready to face this by myself, but I also wasn’t going to be the damsel he thought I was. I wasn’t helpless. I would find out what my connection to all this was, and I would get through it like I’d gotten through every challenge life threw at me.

Alone .

“Fuck him.” I closed the door and lay down on the bed. “Fuck you, Caleb. I don’t need you.”

I’d been here almost two days. My sleep pattern was rubbish, but I’d still managed to get some rest. It didn’t matter how agitated I was, my brain had been trained to take sleep where it needed it. The morning after my last interaction with Caleb, when I woke up, the room seemed colder and emptier, which was ridiculous since I was the only person there.

But the silence surrounding me served as a reminder that I was alone.

Caleb had left, I knew it. If I opened my door, I wouldn’t find him sitting there.

I’d seen the doctor a couple of times since I’d been here, nothing more than what I’d expect from my own healthcare provider. It was an unspoken request that I remain in the room, and I had done so. I wasn’t brave enough to go exploring on my own.

Unfolding the cover of the sketch pad, my fingers had a slight tremble in them as I reached for the pack of pencils, and with a low exhale, I began to draw.

While I worked, I couldn’t help but notice that the bunker had an eerie stillness to it, which made an overactive imagination like mine jump at every creak that sounded. There was a blanket at the foot of the bed, and while I didn’t feel cold, I still wanted to wrap myself in the comfort of a blanket to chase off the chill that clung to my bones.

Before I sat down, I pushed the door open a little for air. That’s what I told myself, but in reality, it was so I could hear anyone approach. After all, these people were strangers. Ones who may turn against me at the drop of a hat, and that just made the fact that Caleb had abandoned me worse.

Gripping my pencil, I knew I had to stop dwelling on him. He had made his choice, and I needed to get over it. My pencil flew across the page, and it was unsurprising that familiar eyes stared back at me.

He was in the woods, and I lay unconscious at his feet. He was naked, not that his state of undress interested me. I was an artist. A professional. I hadn’t lingered over the curve of his ass at all. No, sir. Not me.

I was intent on my drawing when I heard the low murmur of voices, reminding me that I wasn’t exactly alone, and as the conversation got louder, I knew they were getting nearer.

I pulled the cover of the sketchbook over the drawing and then remembered this was why I was here, so I carefully revealed my drawing instead.

A soft knock on my open door had me turning to see the doctor and another man I didn’t know. He reminded me of Cannon, strong, large and bulky. I wondered if all shifters looked so imposing.

“Hi.” I hoped my smile looked friendly and not completely intimidated.

“Willow,” Doc greeted me, pushing the door open wider as he stepped into my space. “This is Ned. He’s here on behalf of Cannon.”

“Is he okay?”

Doc nodded. “He has other commitments this evening. He sends his apologies. ”

It was already evening? Time flew when you were holed up in an underground bunker where no one could find you. “Cool.”

We entered into a three-way stare-off until Doc crossed the small space and peered at the drawing. “You’re very talented.”

“Um, thanks.” Leaning back, I made room for Ned to study my drawing.

Doc glanced at me and then back at the drawing. “This was on the journey here?” he asked.

“Uhhh…yes. I think so. I hit my head,” I explained as I pointed at my prone figure. “I guess that’s me.”

“You guess?” Ned was definitely like Cannon, zero tolerance for bullshit. The sharp intelligence in his eyes, while not as intimidating as the alpha’s, was still strong. “Why is it a guess?”

“I’m not usually something I draw.” It was true and I wanted to point out that few artists painted or drew themselves into their work, but I decided to keep the conversation short.

“It might not be you…” Doc was assessing me and trying to be subtle, but I’d had too many doctors in my life look at me like that.

“How long before my blood work is back?” I was curious as to their facilities here.

Doc waved me off. “Oh, I analyzed it already. One hundred percent human.”

I’d never had any doubt. “Right, and this?” I pointed at the drawing.

“Is not something I will learn from blood work,” he said with a smile.

“Right.” Then why was I here? “So…um… ”

“Why are you here?” Ned guessed with a small smile, and it made him seem younger, more approachable. “Doc is one half of the story; you’re here to meet the other half.”

“There’s another doctor?”

“Not exa?—”

“Sure,” Ned cut Doc off. “Another doctor.”

Doc looked away and I sensed there was more that they weren’t telling me. When he looked back, he saw my curiosity before he looked around the room. “Can we ask you some questions, Willow?”