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Nausea rolls through me. She’s the only one besides Angie who’s ever looked at me differently.
And, probably the last. I’d rather my final memory of her be sadness than terror.
“You’re right. We all have our demons.” The leaves squish under my boots.
It’s the only noise between us for a long time.
Early afternoon marks the halfway point with a break in the rain.
“Michael?” She breaks the silence. My name sounds like a song from her lips.
“Yea?”
“What if I don’t go? Would you make me?” Her hands burrow into the pockets of her jacket as she drops her chin.
“You’d die, Hope. There isn’t another pack that would take you in, they’d just kill you. There’s protection in numbers.” I get a twinge in my temples at the thought of her getting attacked. “I’drather you be angry at me, but be able to live to do it.” Would I force her? Carry her over my shoulder all the way to town?
Probably.
Hell, I’d lock her in a cage back at the house if I knew it would keep the dogs at bay. But, what kind of life is that?
“How fast can you heal?” She doesn’t turn, still plodding ahead of me.
“Faster than a lot.” Not as fast as my mom. I’ve never seen someone heal as fast as her. She broke her hand once when I was around six. It was healed by the next morning.
“Good.” She turns to me and extends her arm.
A pistol is in her grip.
It stops me mid-stride as she points it at me. “Whoa! What are you doing?”
Her eyes are pools of emeralds in a sea of pink as tears stream down her face. “I’m so sorry, but I can’t go back to a town.” The barrel drops before she pulls the trigger.
A fire poker breaks through my shin as the sounds deafens me. The ground rushes up to meet me as my hands cling to my leg.
Blood oozes between my gloved fingers.
“Why the fuck did you shoot me?” I’m not even mad. Just in shock.
“I can’t have you chasing me. I’m so sorry!” The gun disappears into her jacket and she stumbles over to me. “It should heal back. I didn’t want to hurt you.” Her palms cup my jaw before I can protest and she presses her lips to mine.
She tastes like honey and cinnamon. As crazy as it is, I want more. Her salty tears run between us as her mouth moves in warm velvet strokes.
When she pulls away, I’ve forgotten about my leg. I’m transfixed by the tiny pink triangle of her tongue darting over her pout.
“You’re the first person who ever saw me as a human. Thank you.” She wipes her eyes and stands, then backs away slowly. Her chin trembles and that perfect lower lip rolls between her teeth before she turns and begins to run.
Fuck. I wish she had shot me through the heart. It would have hurt less.
The bandana around my leg is tight enough to make my toes tingle, but the bleeding has stopped.
Bark digs into my shoulder and the back of my skull, but it isn’t enough to dull the woeful look she had when she pointed her pistol at me.
I get it. I just wish she would have told me what terrified her so much that she would rather take me down then leave.
What could I have done differently?
Beating my head against this tree isn’t providing any answers.