Any bruises that had formed when I fell had healed by the time I stood. It wasn’t lingering pain that made my movements clumsy as I climbed the final few steps; it was sadness.
I had a brief reprieve from crying while I filled up Kat’s food and water bowls, acting quickly so as to not add being attacked by the animal I pretended loved me to the list of today’s woes. My eyes filled with tears once again after I washed my hands and pulled my phone from my pocket.
The screen was blank. No missed calls.
It was well past the time Lucas would normally have called. I slumped against the kitchen counter and my chest juddered in time with my heaving breaths.
I’d been rejected by the award committee, abandoned by my only employee, and now Lucas had joined in. I knew that one day he would ditch me, would find someone he actually wanted to kiss and create a happily ever after with, but I thought I had more time. I thought, for just a little while longer, that he would choose me.
I should have known better than to bank on having anything more from him than what I’d already been given.
I lost everyone I wanted to be close to. And I lost my mother. I lost my humanity, and the scar that proved it.
I lost everything. Everyone.
If I’d thought about it properly, I would have realised that I’d already lost Lucas. I lost him as soon as I asked to kiss him and he recoiled in horror. He’d left the cottage and thrown himself into a life or death situation because he wanted to get away from me so badly. I’d pushed for too much. I always wanted too much.
Lucas had finally realised my desperate need for more wasn’t going to calm or go away. He was doing what was necessary and distancing himself.
Half blinded by tears, I stumbled over to the second staircase to our bedrooms. Lucas wouldn’t want to live with me, not now he was a werewolf. He wouldn’t be able to stand the stink of want. I hated being zapped by the desire of strangers a few times a day. It would be horrible to be swamped by unwanted attraction in your own home.
I pushed open his bedroom door. I’d left his space untouched for the most part, desperately hoping every day would be the one when he’d come home. Weeks ago, I’d packed up a bag of his clothes. I’d sniffed his pillow once before I closed the door.
The award rejection and Hamish’s departure had given me a rude awakening that was long overdue; Lucas wouldn’t be coming back. No one ever chose me long term. I’d been lucky to have what he’d been able to give.
Since Lucas wouldn’t be living here anymore, it didn’t matter if I buried myself in blankets heavy with his scent. I kicked off my boots and curled up in the middle of his bed, my tears soaking into a pillow that smelt of his earthy shampoo. I pulled his covers around and on top of myself, creating a cocoon.
I would get over this. Today had been a bad one, but soon I’d pull myself together and move on. I’d make Island Books the best it could be and ignore worries that I’d made a terrible mistake coming to the island. I’d adjust to being a lone worker again and appreciate Hamish’s visits. I’d get used to only sharing my home with a vaguely murderous cat.
I wasn’t ready to accept all of this yet.
‘I don’t want to be alone.’ I cried into Lucas’s pillow, gripping his blankets in my fists. ‘I wish I wasn’t always alone.’
No one laid a hand on my shoulder or offered a comforting word. It was just me, by myself.
CHAPTER THIRTY-THREE
LUCAS
There may or may not have been more grass stains on my jeans and the sleeves of my jumper than there had been when I left Callum and Aster’s cabin. No one could either confirm or deny that in my eagerness to be down in the village with Kit, I’d run faster than when I’d dashed around the island with Callum. I might have slowed down after the third time my foot sunk into an unexpected dip and I’d skidded across the grass on a combination of knees, elbows, and face.
Despite running as fast as I could without dyeing the entirety of my outfit green, I arrived at the village long after Kit would have closed up the shop for the night. As I’d careened down the mountains, I’d entertained the idea of crashing into his arms amongst the shelves. I wondered if I’d be able to scent the moment when he realised I was home, whether I’d be able to smell the bright burst of happiness.
He would be pleased to see me. We’d skirted around the kiss that never happened, but even with that lingering unspoken between us, there was no denying Kit was my friend. He said how much he missed cooking for me, that he’d been annoyedwhen he looked up near the end of the day at Island Books and I wasn’t standing at the door, that he found puzzles much harder without a co-solver.
I had to skip to the other arriving home fantasy I’d been imagining as I ran around the wider parts of streams and pounded down the uneven road. Maybe I would manage to get into the living room above the bookshop before Kit realised what was going on. He’d be tucked under a blanket on the sofa, the mouthwatering smell of whatever he’d made for dinner lingering in the air.
I’d be careful to nudge Kat out of the way before I launched myself into Kit’s arms. But there would be launching. And snuggling. I wasn’t letting him go until I’d pressed close to him for long enough that the restless flutter in my chest calmed.
I slowed as the scents and sounds of the village washed over me. I didn’t want to smell burnt sugar from the bakery or dried flowers drifting from the pharmacy as I stalked along the path at the back of cottages. I forced myself to keep to a human speed jog as I shoved through Kit’s garden gate.
He’d left the back door unlocked. Whether in anticipation of my return or because he was a werewolf so didn’t need to fear intruders, it aided my aim of rushing into his arms before he had a chance to untangle himself from the nest of blankets he constructed each night on the sofa.
I grinned as I tugged off my boots. One flight of stairs stood between me and Kit. A tiny hurdle to overcome before I pressed my nose into his hair and rubbed my hands across his back. I thought he smelt of vanilla before my nose became superpowered. I wondered what he would smell like now. I couldn’t imagine it would be anything other than pure goodness.
Taking the stairs three at a time, I charged up into his living room. I’d rushed over to the sofa before I realised nothing was right.
No candles flickered on the coffee table. The blankets were pushed to one side of the sofa, Kat snoring on top. No melted cheese or tangy tomato flavoured the air.
