“Give yourself some credit. At least fifty percent of the jokes you make are passable.”
“Passable,” I repeated. “I think that’s the highest compliment I’ve ever gotten from you.”
“And it’s also the last,” He said. “Because the second I let go, it’s going to get very awkward, and we’ll never be able to face each other again.”
“Right,” I squirmed, suddenly aware of how long we’d been like this. “That’s fine.”
“Fine?”
“Yeah. As long as this like, helped you, I’m fine if you don’t ever look at me again. I think. Since you never actually look at me anyway, and if you do, it’s always with that pissed-off look on your face, which is sort of bad for my morale. If I had any morale left after high school sapped it all away, that is.”
He was quiet. I squirmed again.
“Just…as long as it helped. It doesn’t matter what happens after this, as long as I did something to help you.”
“Because it’s easy for you to default to being a martyr,” He scoffed.
“Because…because I get a lot of happiness,” I corrected. “From helping people.”
“So you really wouldn’t care if we never spoke again?”
“We don’t exactly get along,” I pointed out. “Me and Fitz get along, as much as anyone can get along with a fickle snake, and me and Burn get along because he’s easy-going. But you and me? No way. I think – I think we’re just way too different. Mindset wise.”
“Not even going to give us a chance?”
I felt my face getting hot. Why was he so insistent on getting a chance in the first place?
“You sort of tanked that chance when you called me pathetic.”
He let go of me, and without his body heat, the cold air of the garage attacked my skin again. I almost missed him. Almost. Until I remembered who he was, and who I was. He stood and pulled his bike up, inspecting it for damage. I got up too, still unsure of what to do or say.
“So…that’s it?” I asked.
“It’s better this way,” He said shortly, his words laced with fire again. “You’re right – I lost my chance. If we stay enemies, it will be easier, in the long run.”
“Easier?” I furrowed my eyebrows. “Easier for who?”
He didn’t say anything, jade eyes so determined to stay on his bike it was like he was trying to bore a hole through the metal.
“You should go,” He finally said. “I have no further use for you.”
The words stung like a slap across the face. They shouldn’t have – he only held me like that because it was such a rare occurrence, and he was trying to get better. It was nothing personal. And yet there I was, getting offended like he owed me something just because of one therapy hug and his offhanded comment about me being pretty. I was pissed at the time, irrationally. And I let it get to me.
“You sound just like your dad,” I snarled. Wolf froze.
“How do you know what he sounds like?”
Hot panic choked my throat. “B-Because. He talked to my Mom and Dad when I first got accepted. He sounds just as mean and callous as you do.”
Wolf, despite his suspicion, still didn’t turn to look at me. I couldn’t let him get a clue. Not now. Not when I’d barely made friends with his brothers.
“You want to be enemies?” I asked quickly. “Fine. We’re enemies, Wolf Blackthorn. So don’t expect me to ever help you again.”
It was petty of me. It was something a shrink would never do – threaten to stop helping a patient. But I did it because he was my enemy, not my patient.
I did it because I was confused, and angry, and apparently to him, pretty in that dress.
Pretty stupid, in my opinion.
If I was smarter, pen-and-paper, I would’ve figured out what his laughter meant. What his words meant. What his heartbeat meant, that day.
But I didn’t.
I didn’t until it was too late.
Chapter 13
WOLF
I don’t dream. I nightmare.
If my sleep ever gets interrupted by a dream, it’s always a bad one. The kind that leaves you soaked in sweat and gasping for air, wide awake at two in the morning. I dream about wandering into a massive crowd and the people ripping me apart, limb by limb. I dream about diving into the ocean, the shadow of a huge shark just behind me, sharp teeth on my back. I dream about things hunting me, killing me, eating me alive.
So I don’t like sleeping very much. Or at all. I force myself to get five hours, but some nights are impossible. Some nights, all I have are my rings, and the moonlight, and the sinking, awful feeling that I’m never going to be able to escape whatever’s hunting me. Sometimes, the dreams feature Mark. Mark watching as I’m torn apart. Mark laughing as I’m shredded to nothing more than skin. Mark, holding the torch to my dry pile of wood, watching me go up in flames.
Tonight, though, is a different night.
The nightmare takes place in school, for once. I’m walking down a long, impossible hallway, and Mark is at the end of it. Everything is eerily quiet, his face all smiles. I walk towards him, knowing I have to, knowing I can’t escape him even if I try. And as I’m walking to him, Beatrix comes between us. She’s telling me to stop, begging me to. And then Mark transforms into a beast, a monster, something huge and dark that lunges for her and bites her head clean off, blood and bone crunching, and I’ve lost her – my insides freeze over – I’ve lost the only girl who’s ever made my heart jump, the only girl who argues with me, pushes back against me instead of giving in, the only girl who held me without question, accepting my fear without judgement or laughter –
The only girl I’ve ever wanted.
The only girl who will never want me.