Werewolf Sings the Blues (27 page)

“I
have
to go back—” Jason insists.

Static. No, wait. That's it? It cuts to a new scene at a hotel with Matt diving in the pool, Jenny sunbathing, and Jason off alone staring into space. Frank prattles on about Disney to Jenny, but I barely pay attention my brain is too busy processing what came before.

Insane. What came before was insane. There is no way
in hell
that happened. It's … insane. I don't believe in love at first sight. Lust at first sight, hell yes, but love? Only in fairy tales. I know he's a werewolf, and pheromones and magic and all that crap Adam told me about, but honestly I took what he was saying with a grain of salt. He was justifying his longing for forbidden fruit. And even if what I witnessed was love at first sight, it was fifteen f
ucking years ago. I lived thousands of miles away. We had no contact whatsoever. He would have gotten over it. Forgotten about me.
He doesn't still … oh, my God.

All the tumblers to unlock the mystery of Jason Dahl finally align. With that click, I feel like I've been socked in the gut. I even hunch over in my chair. He does. Of course he does. He's loyal to a fault. Once you're in his heart, you're in for life. Fifteen damn years he loved me and kept his distance. For me. Like Frank, to protect me. To keep me from all this … death. Then, when the shit hit the fan, he kept me safe again. Was shot for me. Would have walked inside that farmhouse alone to save me, of that I have no doubt. And there I was. The forbidden fruit, the woman he loved, shooting at him. Teasing him. Flaunting myself. God, what a disappointment I must have been. He fell in love with the angel on stage only to find out she was the coked up Whore of Babylon.

And yet …

He loves me. A wonderful, kind, caring, strong, honorable man loves
me
. Still. I know it as sure as I know any damn thing. I saw it in his eyes. I feel it penetrating my skin whenever I'm near
him. That sadness, that pain only unrequited love and longing can unleash. He doesn't deserve that. He doesn't deserve a moment
of pain, especially not from me.

“Come on, Jace,” Frank says on the TV. “We're in the happiest place on earth. Smile!”

Seventeen-year-old Jason peers at the camera as Frank zooms in on his remote face, but those icy eyes betray him. It's as if he's right in the room, staring at me. Miserable. Haunted. I've taken his twinkle, that
joie de vivre
he fought so hard to find in previous scenes. That hope that maybe, just maybe, happiness is achievable in this godforsaken world. He looks away from the camera.

Real-time growling closer than before echoes from the field outside, startling me out of my revelations. Crap. Immediately, I leap up and grab the tranq gun from the floor. As I hustle to the curtains, there are more angry snarls followed by snapping and whining. A fight. I peek out, scanning the field as the noises of combat continue. Snarl. Growl. Nothing. Empty. Louder than before, there's one final growl and whimper before complete silence save for the laughter on the TV. I glance over as Frank pulls a morose Jason to his side and kisses the teen's forehead. “Love you, son.”

Oh, shit. When I glance back outside, my throat closes. Right at the tree line, a wolf limps away as best it can with a hurt front leg. It vanishes back into the trees a moment later. I'm still not alone though. I sense something gazing at me from where the wolf first emerged. I stare back into the dark forest for a few seconds, willing it out. It obeys. One step. Two. I flick the gun's safety off. Another step until the glow of the moon spotlights him. Though his snout is drenched in blood and eyes have laser-like focus on me, I have no fear. In fact, I smile and lower the gun.

He's been out there all night, circling the perimeter to keep the others at bay should they come too close. Willing to fight to the death to keep us safe. Even as a wolf he's a better human being than most. And he loves me.
Me.
I meet those intense eyes and fresh tears threaten to escape mine. The clarity of what I have to
do sends another painful blow to my soul. But I do it. I turn my back
on him and disappear behind the curtain. The long, mournful howl calling for my return is overshadowed by the static on the TV. It's over.

End of tape.

_____

I move through the house a veritable ghost. Insubstantial. It's almost as if the others know not to distract me from my mission, that even the slightest word or disturbance will knock me off course. It wouldn't take much, but my resolve and faith strengthen with each step his way. When I'm halfway on my trek down the gravel road to his house, that calm I get when something abominable happens washes over me. I cease noticing the mosquitoes and sweltering heat and humidity that remains between the rain showers. It was coming down hard when I woke from my fitful sleep but stopped just as I began the long walk, as if God himself cleared my path. I even saw Adam and Tate in the big house, so I know he's alone right now. If I believed in signs, or a just God for that matter, I'd take it to mean He thought I was doing the right thing. Not that I need Him to think that. I
know
I am.

Jason's house comes into view, and my hand clenches tighter around the video tapes. Just because I'm doing the right thing doesn't mean I'm enjoying it. In fact, it fucking sucks more often than not. You end up impaling men with rods, getting shot, baby-sitting a dozen kids and breaking your own heart.

Sure enough the moment I reach the door, rain begins pattering down again. Without hesitation, I knock. Good thing I didn't put on makeup or fancy clothes. White shorts, black t-shirt, flip
flops, hair in a ponytail, now sweaty and frizzy. He's seen me worse,
but he'll never see me better.

I hear his heavy footsteps coming my way until only the door separates us, but that vanishes as well. The sight of him fresh-faced from sleep, judging by his mussed hair and pajama bottoms sans shirt, takes my breath away. Not because he looks like a sun god with almost gleaming skin, hair, chiseled chest. Not because I've never felt such a strong urge to kiss a man and screw us both into oblivion, though those contribute. No, it's because this is the moment I decide I'm
really
going to do this. It's the fork in the road, the point of no return, and for once I'm going the right way. Just not the right way for me.

“May I come in?”

His eyes dart down to the tapes then up. I keep my face an impenetrable mask just like his is now as he studies it. “Sure. Come in.”

“Sorry if I woke you,” I say, stepping in, “I just—”

“You didn't,” he cuts in behind me. “I was resting.”

I spin around. He hasn't moved from the door, probably in case he needs a quick getaway. “How are you feeling today? Everyone at the house was shuffling around like the walking dead.”

“The change takes a lot out of you.”

“I can imagine.”

He nods. “I'm just glad there were no incidents last night.”

“Well, we have you to thank for that, I think,” I chuckle nervously. “I hope there were no hard feelings this morning.”

“No. They know I was just … doing my job,” he says, eyes finding the floor.

“Right. Always on, aren't you? 24/7.”

“Yes. I am.”

“Don't you ever get tired of it? Giving and giving and getting precious little in return? I mean, you can't buy love. People shouldn't love you for what you do for them. It's just a smoke screen in the end. You have to let them
see
the person inside.”

Those ice eyes dart up to apprize me. “And you're an expert on love?”

I can't help but chuckle. “Yeah, no. Hell no. But I am an expert on selfishness, right?”

His upper lip twitches. “I was … harsh yesterday.”

“No, you weren't. You were honest. I am selfish. Never had a reason not to be. You have to be when you're completely alone. Just
comes down to survival in the end.”

“That's a sad way to live.”

“Yes, it is. Of course your way isn't much better, is it? Living only for other people? Not going after what you want for fear that people might think less of you or just simply don't agree?”

“But sometimes those people are correct. Sometimes you do have to make sacrifices. Sometimes, for better or worse, that is love.”

My turn to gaze down. Shame weighs heavy. “Yeah. Getting that now. Some mate you got yourself, huh? The fates must have been drunk off their asses when they cast our lots together. I literally can't imagine how disappointed you must be with me. Or relieved. Makes it easier, huh?”

“You didn't disappoint me. In fact … I admire your tenacity. Your ability to think on your feet. Your charm. Your ability to do what's necessary. Your fighting spirit. The way you smell. Your freckles. The way you lift me up when you sing. Your strength. The way you accept people. The way you see through to their soul.”

“Then why didn't you tell me before?” I ask desperately.

“What good would it have done? What would have changed? You'd still be Frank's daughter. You'd still be human. You'd still live thousands of miles away. You'd still not
belong
here. You'd still … not love me. Because you don't, do you?”

I want to lie. It's my first instinct. But I owe him this. It's why I'm here. More important, it's the right thing to do. “The truth? I don't think I've ever loved anybody. Not really. Hell, I don't know if I can, if I even have it in me. Never had much practical experience around it. If I ever was capable of it, I think I locked that part of me away ages ago and threw away the damn key. Just hurt too much. But … if I ever could love anyone, it's you. Without question. You are the
best
man I have ever met, hands down. Everything you said I have, you've got in spades, Blondie,” I say, voice cracking with emotion.
Just finish. Just don't cry. Just finish this.
“You are so kind, so strong, so noble. Hell, I didn't know people like you existed. And you—you … I have been scared all my life. Lost. But when I'm with you, I don't feel that way. Around you … I
feel
like that person you described. And you make me want to work harder to be that person.” I take a step toward him. “So … I'm gonna start really being that girl. Because even at my best, I'm sure as hell not worthy of you. Because you deserve someone who isn't selfish. Who isn't broken. Who brings such joy to your life your soul sings every time you're in her presence. I want that for you
more than anything
. So … I'm gonna do the only thing I can
do for you. What I promised myself I'd do. I'm gonna listen to you. I'm gonna leave you the hell alone. No more plots, no more plans. I swear on our niece's and nephew's lives, I won't bother you again. I'll give you as much peace as I possibly can,” I say, meaning it from the bottom of my soul. I bridge the gap between us and once again meet his eyes. “Or at least until I'm that girl you deserve.” Slowly, I lean in and kiss his cheek, savoring his smell. His heat. “Bye, Blondie.” And I rush out before I completely crumble.

The warm rain drenches me instantly, but I barely notice. I man
age to stumble out of sight of his house before my breath starts shaking and the sobs can't be contained a moment longer. I almost double over on the gravel path as the first wail escapes me and do as the second wracks my body. This is horrible. Why do I feel so horrible? Because I lost him. Because I'm alone again. Because I'm lost and alone in the forest again with no rescue coming this time. Because that's what I deserve. He … oh, God.

I hear the crackling of tires on gravel as Frank's SUV drives up the road. I attempt to quell my tears, try to stand up straight, but I can't. I'm broken.

The car comes to a skidding stop. “Vivi?” Frank calls as he jumps out. His voice is like a shot in the arm. I can't … I leap up and take a few steps toward the trees to flee but the wracking sobs slow me down. “Vivi? Doll face? You're scaring me, baby. What happened?” he asks, touching my shoulder. “What—”

I swat his hand away. “Don't touch me! Just leave me alone! Please …”
I take another step to escape, but Frank grabs me, attempting to pull me into his arms. “Don't touch me. Let me go …” I sob. He wraps those arms around me, and no matter how much I push he doesn't release me. “Let me go. Let me …” But I have no fight left in me. I used the last of it to win the battle with myself. I let my father hug me, and within seconds find myself even hugging him back as I cry on his shoulder.

“It's okay, doll face, it's okay,” he whispers as he smoothes my wet hair. “I'm right here. I'm not going anywhere. I'm right here.”

And my father holds me, smoothes my hair, and whispers everything will be alright until I actually believe him.

_____

“At least now I know where I get my drinking gene from,” I say, chugging the bourbon.

I am getting plastered with my father. It does not suck. It's actually pretty fucking great.

He's
been great. Without a word, my father ushered me into his SUV, drove us home, then escorted me up to the master bedroom. As we dried off, he put on an Ella vinyl, pulled out a bottle hidden in his closet and off we went. The alcohol is helping reassemble my pieces, drying the glue holding my heart together. And I've learned my father is about one step away from being a lush just like his little girl. This kind of makes me like him more. Turned into kind of a bonding experience, this scene.

Frank swipes the bottle from me. “Actually, you have alcoholics on both sides. Your grandfathers.”

“I knew about granddad Cliff. When Mom and I lived with him after you left, he was always waking me at night to tell me stories about the Korean War. He'd cry when he talked about his dead buddies. He was a nice guy, though.”