Page 98 of Wild Thorns

A couple of weeks. That was all I needed. Enough time to get my head on straight and figure out what the hell I was supposed to do with any of this.

I started packing before I could change my mind.

The suitcase came out from under the bed, the same one I'd used to flee Atlanta just a few short months ago. It was worn at the corners now, a little battered from being thrown into car trunks and dragged up narrow staircases. I'd never fully unpacked it, I realized. Some part of me had always been ready to run again.

Clothes went in first. Not everything, just enough for two weeks. I told myself that mattered, that distinction. I wasn't leaving. I was taking a break.

The difference felt thin as tissue paper.

My hand paused on a familiar piece of fabric, shoved in the back of a drawer. Jasper's sweatshirt. The gray one with the fraying cuffs that I'd stolen after that first night together. It still smelled like him: pine, wood-smoke and something warm, something that made my chest ache in ways I didn't want to examine.

I stood there for too long, holding it. Remembering the weight of his arm across my waist. The way he'd murmured my name in his sleep, like it was something precious. The amber of his eyes when he'd looked at me in the morning light, soft and unguarded in a way I suspected he rarely let himself be.

Those same eyes had glowed gold last night. That same body had twisted into something with fur and fangs and claws that dripped blood.

I shoved the sweatshirt into the suitcase. I didn't know what that meant. I didn't know what any of it meant.

My laptop went in next, along with the charger and the external hard drive that held all my client files. I could work remotely. Had been working remotely for months. Lila wouldn't even notice I was gone, as long as I kept hitting my deadlines.

I pulled up her contact and typed out a quick text.

To Lila: Hey, going to work remotely for a couple of weeks. Visiting a friend in Nashville. I'll have my laptop and can video call for any meetings. That okay?

Lila's response was typically Lila.

From Lila: Sure thing, take a break from the swamp. I'll see you when you get back!

I wasn't running. Was I? This was a strategic retreat. A temporary relocation for the purposes of gaining perspective.

God, I was full of shit.

I kept packing anyway.

Toiletries. Phone charger. The book I'd been meaning to finish for three weeks. I pulled Tara's charm from my pocket, ran my thumb over its rough surface, then slipped it back into its usual home against my thigh.

The texture was comforting. Real. Solid. A piece of my best friend, carried across states and through nightmares.

The apartment felt different in the morning light. Smaller, somehow. The porch where I'd stood barefoot in blood. The kitchen floor where I'd sat with my arms wrapped around my knees, rocking slightly while the brothers talked through the door.

I loved this apartment. Had loved it from the first moment I saw it, with its view of the magnolia tree, its cozy corners, and its sense of being tucked away from the world. It had felt safe here. Peaceful.

Now it felt like a crime scene I couldn't stop revisiting.

I needed to tell them I was leaving. The thought made my stomach clench, but it was the right thing to do. After everything they'd shown me, everything they'd trusted me with, I owed them that much.

But not in person. I couldn't face them yet, couldn't look into Jasper's worried amber eyes or weather the intensity of Callum's silent regard. I couldn't let Eli's careful logic convince me to stay before I'd had time to think.

A text. That would have to be enough for now.

I stared at my phone for a long moment, trying to figure out who to message. All three of them seemed like overkill. One felt like favoritism. I set up a group text.

To Voss brothers group text: I need some time. Going to visit a friend for a couple of weeks. I'll be working remotely. I'm not making any permanent decisions. I just need to think.

My finger hovered over the send button.

Three dots would appear after I sent this. One of them would be typing. Probably Jasper, with his careful words and his gentle handling. Or Eli, with his logical reassurances and his patient explanations.

Not Callum. Callum would come to my door and stand there in silence until I opened it, until I let him see whatever he needed to see in my face. Callum wouldn't text. Callum would show up.