6
EDDIE
A chance tosee Willow again is synonymous to a chance to laugh till your stomach hurts—something you wouldn’t give up even if it meant the world would burn down to a crisp. I’ll admit, seeing her doused in sweat because of witch magic and being deathly sick isn’t the most ideal situation. But it brought me here, so who am I to be picky?
Sitting beside her bed, I decide then and there that she will have a hell of a hard time getting rid of me. As much as the fact that someone tried to hurt my Willow completely pisses me off, I now have the perfect excuse to be around her twenty-four seven.
“Sweet pea.” I huff out a laugh, leaning back in my chair while resting my arm on her bed, my hand on her leg. A bedsheet separates my hand and her skin, and as much as I want to touch her skin, I think she would jump a mile if she noticed me touching her. For that reason alone, the bed sheet stays, for now. “If you wanted to see me that badly, you could’ve called. You know?—”
“You’re funny,” she cuts me off, whipping her bedsheet off her sweat-covered body and glaring. My sweet pea is looking atme. Glaring, yes, but she’s looking at me. A win if I’ve ever seen one. “Why are you here?”
“How could I not be here? You were poisoned.” Snappy Willow is a new side I’ve yet to meet. I wonder what’s putting her on edge.
“I know that, but what does that have to do with you?”
“Whose witch do you think came to save you?” I ask, a full-blown smirk covering my lips. She knows how the game works and yet is playing right into my hand.
“Oh,” she mumbles after a breath. Her frizzy hair sticks up straight as she tilts her head. I can see the realization of her situation settle in her body as her eyes shoot up to mine. Finally, her full attention is on me.
“Oh,is right, Willow; the favor you owe belongs to me.” It would technically be owed to my Pack, but Jackson, after far too much pleading and begging, let me take the lead on this one. Favors are an enormous deal among shifters, and owing one is akin to owing a debt to a shark, dangerous as hell.
“What do you want?”
“Ah, ah, ah. No, no, Willow. I’ll save this favor for now and cash it in later,” I say as her body tenses up. “More importantly, why is someone trying to kill you?”
“I... I don’t know,” Willow says, glancing at Layla, the friend I met about an hour ago, before settling her gaze on me. I didn’t think she’d play me for stupid, but I’m not quite ready to push her yet. Not on this. I’m saving that for later.
“Then we can kick off this guarding gig by making room for one more in this little home on the prairie.” The plan is to be glued to her hip, and I couldn’t do that from a dozen blocks away. I’ll push as hard as I can on this and find out who is behind this little incident later.
Little does she know, she isn’t getting rid of me.
“No, absolutely not. There’s no room for you here,” Willow says. Her curls are wet with sweat and sticking to her forehead. She’s absolutely tantalizing when she’s a hot, sweaty mess, but I can’t stand that she’s uncomfortable. I reluctantly get up, losing my physical contact with her leg, and pull the rest of her bed sheet down.
“I could sleep in your room with you,” I say. The most ideal solution, but with her constantly pushing me away, the most unlikely.
“As if,” Willow replies with a sharp laugh.
“You could come live in the Pack house?” My Pack’s house is a new build made with more than enough room to grow, and it wouldn’t be the first night she stayed over. That night was a few months ago when Flora's coworkers tried to kidnap her. For what, I can’t quite remember, but my sweet pea, Willow, stayed with Flora and Luxe at the Pack house. She abruptly left; for what, once again, I don’t know, but I would safely assume it had something to do with whoever poisoned her.
“I have responsibilities here,” she mutters, her eyes trailing everywhere but to me. This little move was her way of distancing our connection, but I’d get her eyes on me again.
“Like what, sweet pea?” Her fingers twist the blanket that sits beside her as she probably tries to come up with a reason why she can’t come with me to the Pack house. The Pack house is where she would be safest, surrounded by eight other shifters and a teenage vampire.
“Like my cat, someone has to feed her and change her litter.”
“Layla”—I look over at the woman on her phone—“Can do that while we go live in my house.”
“Eddie.”
“Willow.”
Her deep brown eyes finally meet mine. I hold my breath to make the silence in the room louder so I’ll be ready with any counter she may give me.
“Eddie, I don’t need a bodyguard, and I can’t leave Layla alone.”
“I’ll be a friend who never leaves your side.” Did I fucking friend-zone myself? Damn, I’m off my rocker. I walk out of the room, hoping to collect the pieces of my mind that must have blown up at some point and find the thermostat. Finding it in the living room where my Pack sits, shivering, I adjust the temperature to sixty-two degrees.
“How is she?” Flora asks, getting up from Dylan’s lap.
