“No. You didn’t get it. It’s hard to miss. A card was with it, though. They must have forgotten. I sent it last week. Do me a favor and check my room.”
His room? Ugh, this must be a setup. “Nah. Pass. I don’t want to be accused of stealing something.”
“Jess, please. Just go to my room and check. I won’t accuse you of anything,” he pleads.
Guilt crawls up the back of my neck. “Fine,” I huff and step into the hallway. Before I walk in, I switch our phone call to video. His handsome face flashes on my screen. Gods, he’s notwearing a shirt. He smiles. Ugh, that dimple. Why must he be so stinking good-looking?
“Okay, go inside.”
I roll my eyes and tentatively open his door.
“Stop.”
Before crossing the threshold, I freeze.
“Why do you still look like that?”
I frown. I look down at my clothes. Earlier, I changed into a simple cotton camisole and matching boxer shorts. I’m not wearing a bra so I raise the phone to focus on my face. I catch the image of myself in the upper corner of my phone. I’m still wearing light makeup and my short hair is still styled in a girly way. I tuck my hair behind my ear and frown at him. “Were you planning on meeting someone?”
“No! I looked like this at dinner, and I haven’t washed my face yet.” I reach for the door handle and forcefully close the door. “Forget it, Luke.” I bring the phone down to hang up.
“No! Wait! I’m sorry. You look very pretty. I’m sorry if I insulted you, again.”
My finger hovers over the End button. His eyes are squeezed shut as if he regrets what he just accused me of. Why does he do this to me all the time?
“Please, just go in my room and check if your gift is in there.”
Without answering him, I open his door, turn on the light, and walk in. His room is neat, neater than mine and a hell of a lot cleaner than the twins’ room. Luke hasn’t been home for a few months, but his room still smells like him. I hate that I like it. It makes me feel... safe. Quickly, I scan his room and find a long box on his bed. I turn the camera pointedly at the box.
He confirms, “Yeah. That’s it. Open it.”
“Okay. I’ll call you back.”
“No! Just set the phone on the nightstand. I kind of want to see you open it.”
Sighing, I situate the phone and realize I need to put a shirt on or something. A hooded sweatshirt hangs on the back of his desk chair. I rush over and pull it over my head. It smells like him—beragamot, freshly cut grass, and cool water. I love wearing his stupid hoodies.
What the hell is wrong with me? I have a boyfriend whom I am madly in love with.
“Not exactly dressed for public viewing,” I mumble as I stand next to his bed and start to open the box. It's heavier than I expect. Within the cardboard box is a lacquered case with a geisha sitting near a water’s edge. The reflection staring back at her is not her own but of a white wolf instead. “A white wolf shifter,” I whisper, running my hand over the painting. “This is beautiful. Why a white wolf?”
He clears his throat. “Open it, first.”
I gently lift the lid. Inside is an archery set, a katana, a tanto, and a pair of sai—traditional Japanese and Okinawan weapons. I remove each one and admire the craftmanship. Surprisingly, the tanto is lighter, and shorter than our training blades. It fits my hand like it was made for me.
I flick my gaze over to the phone, checking to see if he’s still there. He watches me intently. I bite my lip as I hold the tanto, loving how it feels. These are beautiful and fit me so perfectly.
“There’s a place in the village near the school that makes traditional Japanese and Okinawan weapons. I heard you struggled in the beginning because the weapons are a bit heavy and large for you. Thought this might help when you test out for the finals next month. The swordsmith’s wife is the artist. He forges the weapons, and she paints the case based on her visions for the one who will wield them. The card should explain a little more.”
I return everything to the case and gingerly close the lid. I trail my fingers over the painting. “Thank you,” I whisper. “This means a lot to me.”
“Happy birthday, Jess. I’m glad you like it.”
“I love it.” Tears well behind my lids. I don’t want him to see just how much this gift affects me.
“I hope that this could be, umm, a sort of peace offering. I know that you and I, well, I... I started things off on the wrong foot. I just want you to know that I’m in your corner. I want to see you succeed.”
The tears begin to fall, and I turn my face away from my phone and just nod briskly. Using the sleeves of the hoodie, I wipe my cheeks.
