“It was that easy?”
“Well, it was for me,” she laughs. “I can recognize people by their aura now, and yours is in a state of stress, too. Almost like an alarm beacon.”
I look over at Sadie as we get into the car, admiring how calm she is. A sense of power surrounds her, assurance that she knows exactly how to use it. It’s comforting, but it also makes me feel incredibly small.
She’s so awesome. How could I ever become like her?
The drive back to her place doesn’t take long, and Sadie immediately takes me into the kitchen and sets a plate of cookies in front of me. She also makes strong, sweet tea and hands me the steaming cup.
“I’m not that hungry,” I murmur.
“I don’t care,” Sadie says with finality. “You need some sustenance. I’m not moving until you have something to eat.”
Grudgingly, I take a couple of cookies. They’re so good that I end up eating at least a dozen. The tea is sweet and fragrant, laced with honey, and it goes well with the cookies.
“This is wonderful, thank you,” I say.
She can cook, too. Is there anything she can’t do?
“It’s my pleasure,” Sadie says, smiling. “Now that you’ve rested a little, I want you to go back to this spell and explain it. Tell me the ritual and words, if you can.”
I tell her about twisting our hair together and how I had to piece the spell together from two books. I don’t remember all the words, but I tell her as much as I can remember.
“Okay, that’s good,” she says. “That gives me enough to work with. In the meantime, I want you to know that you made a mistake—but you can’t keep blaming yourself. I understand how guilty you feel, but that won’t help you move forward.”
“People died,” I gasp, looking at her with shock. “A lot of people. All because I did a stupid, selfish thing. You’re telling me not to feel bad about it?”
“No, not at all. You might feel bad about it for the rest of your life—but I’m telling you, don’t let it drag you down into despair. If we’re going to fix this, I need you strong and fighting.”
I shake my head, feeling tears brimming in my eyes again. “The things Owen said… even if I forgive myself, I don’t think he could ever forgive me.”
“Trina,” Sadie says gently. “I felt the same way with Rhys. It wasn’t easy in the beginning, getting through my feelings of resentment, then slowly accepting my role in the pack. But it has all been worth it.”
“Sadie,” I reply, shaking my head. “The difference is you have a history with Rhys. You fell in love with each other years ago, and your trials were a confirmation of that. Owen just picked me because of the spell. He didn’t choose me out of love.”
I know that Sadie wants to offer some words of comfort, but there are none. Owen’s motivation for choosing me had nothing to do with me personally or any bond between us. He can let me go just as easily as he picked me up.
“I’ll look into the spell,” Sadie says. “We’ll fix this.”
I nod, trying to have hope, but I truly don’t believe the situation can be fixed. And no matter what Sadie says, the guilt is choking me. From my perspective, there is no way through it.
***
In the days that follow, I slip into a routine in Sadie’s household, and the family atmosphere goes a long way towards healing me. I avoid work, which isn’t such a big deal now that the gala is over and done with. Instead, I help out around the house and play with Cassie. Slowly, I begin to feel better.
There is a knot of hurt deep in my chest that continues to twist, and by the third day, I have to finally admit to myself what is causing it.
I miss Owen.
Standing in Sadie’s kitchen, peeling potatoes while Cassie makes a fine mess of buttering bread, I try to reason it out, telling myself I can’t possibly miss a man who kidnapped me—and then rejected me. But the feeling just grows, and it’s so intense that it feels like a keen blade slicing into my heart.
He does not miss me, that’s very clear. He must know by now that I’ve left. He hasn’t come looking for me, or even called or texted me.
The sharp pain in my chest rises to my throat, but I refuse to let the tears come.
I’m so done with crying. I can’t take this anymore.
Now that the image is in my head, though, I can’t get rid of it. Owen may have duties at the moment that prevent him from looking for me, but at the same time, if he cared, he’d make some attempt to find out where I was.
