Us.
But she continues to stare right through me, atJax Frostspanning the window at my back. “Dr. Tanner, I know I’m only supposed to use this number in case of emergencies. But this is an emergency. I think I’m…seeing things.”
She goes silent, and I’m too focused on the strain in her jaw to eavesdrop on whatever the feminine voice on the other line is saying.
“No. I don’t think I’m a harm to myself or anyone else.”
My brows scrunch together and I clench my fists. I’d freeze the world before she could anyway. No harm comes to my mate. Not ever. I’d trade my immortality before that would ever happen.
“Okay. I’ll be there at 12:30. Thank you.”
She hangs up, phone shaking in her hands as she backs away and climbs into the bed, pulling the covers around her. Her breaths release in shallow pants. I follow her, halting by her bedside table, hating to see her fear. Fear overme.
White puffs slip in the space between us. When she sees them, her panic only grows, and a tear streaks her cheek. It crushes something inside me, and I transport myself to the park and shift, my paws crunching against the grass.
And then I run.
And run.
But no matter how far or how fast my feet carry me, I can’t outrun the fear that thrums in my chest…and the painful realization that comes with it.
Convincing Jolie I’m real might be the worst fate I can give her.
9
JOLIE
Ikeep my head down during rehearsals, focusing on not letting my mind wander to my midday appointment with Dr. Tanner or the eerie events of last night.
Not that I know what I’m even going to say when I see her.
I shouldn’t have been able to drift off to sleep last night. I should be more unsettled. Logically, this is the stuff of nightmares. If this were a movie, someone would be calling me and breathing heavily over the other line. I’m the girl that decides to go into the haunted house alone. A sitting duck, ready for the taking.
A smart person would have immediately left the apartment and called Lark. A smart person would have called Blake, demanding to stay at his place for once. A smart person definitely doesn’t keep thinking aboutJax Frost.
My curiosity will be the death of me and there’s no one to blame but myself. I mean… Jax Frost? Isn’t that the little sprite that flits around for winter? A made-up story used to sell holiday movies? Not a real…whatever. Being.
“You ready to talk about why you called me last night?” my therapist asks, tapping her purple pen a few times against herclipboard. Her green eyes glint beneath tortoise-shell glasses, and she tucks an ash-blonde strand of hair into her bun. Then she waits. And waits. And waits.
“Do you ever have patients that, um…see things?” Once the words are out, I try not to panic, though there’s no good segue intoI think I’m getting messages from a ghost that may or not be a childhood myth. “Like ghosts or something?”
Dr. Tanner takes a few beats before she responds. “Well, sometimes our grief can manifest in different ways.”
“So you think this is just my grief?” Would grief be able to throw something across the room and break it? I don’t think so, but I also don’t want to sound any nuttier than I do already. Of course, Dr. Tanner’s professional enough not to say I’m crazy to my face, though I’m suredelusionalis now somewhere on that chart.
“I really don’t know, Jolie. But I think it’s important we explore this and find out.” Anything she says afterward is a blur as my mind reels over if I made up the name on my window, the strange wolf, or the broken antique Ouija board. While I’m grateful she doesn’t make me feel more insane than I already do, she’s also reinstated my weekly sessions.
That’s telling in itself.
I can’t dwell on that long, though, because before I know it our session is over and I am hauling ass back to the rest of rehearsals to dance until my feet blister and bleed and pain streaks down my thigh. My next physical therapy session is tomorrow, and I’m oddly looking forward to it. My therapist, Heather, reminds me that each time I go is a step toward progressing my career. I repeat that to myself over and over like a mantra, and it helps. Plus, I notice Mistress Maral is glaring at me less during rehearsals. That’s a huge improvement.
By the time I finish, it’s 3:30. I skip recovery bonding time today in lieu of meeting Lark at the Institute. I didn’t see her thismorning before I headed to class. Honestly, it was for the best. I still need to search for her replacement board.
Every step toward the metro, I glance around, the ice and snow surrounding me like a personal taunt even as it glistens within the cracks of the bustling streets. The cold may have left the area, but it rattles my bones, culling a dissatisfied ache in my chest. I slide onto the seat in the metro and run through all the strange things that have been happening, half expecting to find the glass on the windows frosting over with another message.
No matter how hard I try, I can’t think of anything else.
After the metro ride, I hurry to JJ’s. The owners give me knowing smiles and immediately begin pouring our usuals even though it’s been months since I’ve been here.
