A light purring noise sounded from the carpet below her, and she dangled her hand over the edge of the cushion. Flannery’s little head pressed into her palm. In the dark, April hoisted her up to rest on her stomach.
“He’s the most stubborn man I’ve ever met in my life,” she whispered. If he heard her, so be it. “He knows what would help him, and he fights it because…well, control, I guess.”
And fear. That was the bottom layer of all of this, every argument she’d had with him in the last three days. How could he fail to see that?
“Well, he’ll have to figure it out, sweetie. Find a way to talk to me and…and maybe then I’ll be able to help.”
She might see it differently if he’d always had to fight so hard against his wolf. But if her presence had affected him…and if being his mate were a good gift of fate, not a curse or anything… Malachi needed her just as she needed him. And he needed to make peace with his wolf. Somehow.
Twenty-Three
Malachiwasgonewhenshe woke in the morning. The bed was made with a precision April had neglected thus far, and for a moment she was sure he hadn’t slept in it on principle. She looked around the bedroom for a clue either way. A new book lay on the nightstand besideWatership Down, which she had taken to re-reading before bed. She picked up the slim little paperback, obviously old yet kept pristine.A Wizard of Earthsea.Hmm. She had never read this one.
He hadn’t had a book with him when they said good night, so at some point afterward, he’d been unable to sleep. Beside the paperback lay one of the old leather journals that stood in a row on the low shelf of his nightstand. She’d never taken these out; they looked private. Now she turned only the cover. Maybe an inscription would confirm, though she couldn’t picture him writingMalachi’s Diaryon anything. The thought made her smile despite her current vexation.
Therewasan inscription, written in faded ink, an outdated cursive she could hardly decipher.
Lorebook No. 11, as recorded by the alphas of this wolf pack established 1837. This book’s account begins _____ and was completed _____.
In the “begins” space, someone had writtenApril 17, 1993. The “completed” space was still blank. Below this were three names, written in three different hands.
Arthur Louis Palmer
William Roger Benton
Malachi Jackson Fuller
For a long moment, April stood staring down at her wolf’s name. Part of her itched to turn the pages, to read the lore Malachi so treasured, the lore he contributed to and maybe had read last night for comfort in whatever difficulty he wouldn’t talk about. But this might be an encroachment. She would ask him first. For now she set the book down and left the room.
Mid-morning, a knock on the door sent her pulse into overdrive. Then she chided herself. Drew wouldn’t knock. Anyway, Drew couldn’t cross onto pack property now without alerts being sent to the new satellite phones of Malachi, Aaron, Robert, and Rhett. She opened the door to her favorite neighbor.
Ember held a casserole dish out in front of her belly, a reusable grocery tote hooked over one arm. “Hey, is now a good time for company?”
“Absolutely. I’m about to climb the walls.”
Ember laughed as she brought her cargo inside. “I figured as much. How do you feel about getting coffee after all the chaos?”
“Oh…”
She hadn’t considered it, but she was no longer in hiding. Drew knew where she was. Being seen in town didn’t matter. Turning on her phone didn’t matter. In fact…she could call Mom. Tears rose in her eyes.
“Sorry, I guess that was too soon,” Ember said.
“No, no, it’s just—I’ve been so locked down in my head, I only just realized I can call my mom. My location’s out of the bag, so there’s no reason not to anymore.”
“Oh wow, of course. Want me to come back later?”
“No, I’ll call her in a little while. Let’s talk.”
She put the dish in the fridge while Ember rummaged through the canvas tote. “By the way, who’s your service provider? For your phone, I mean.”
April told her, tilting an eyebrow at the random question.
Ember gave her a thumbs up. “I had to switch. Not everybody has towers out here. But you should be fine. Okay, a couple things”—she pointed toward the fridge—“that meal is veggie stir fry and roast beef. I made up an extra batch for y’all.” She snatched up an item from the bottom of the tote. “Also here you go, courtesy of Rhett’s secret defense fund. Bear spray to knock down a wolf.”
The canister was about eight inches tall. Far from fitting on a keychain… “A holster?”
“Yeah, personally, I’ll just carry a bigger purse. But the holster comes with, if you want it.”
