Claws & Crochet

Part 81

WARNER

As I pace around my apartment, I avoid looking in any mirrors. I don't want to see how black my eyes are.

Funny, I never thought falling in love with a person would bring out so many dark feelings. Love is supposed to be great. Lift you up. Make you feel like you're invincible. At least, that's what people tell you.

But I'm finding that love feels a whole lot like misery.

She's leaving.

The thought makes me want to howl. My wolf thrashes under my skin, demanding release. The urge to transform tempts me. To run through the woods until I forget what it's like to be human. Forget what it means to hurt.

But something keeps me here, in this stifling room.

I wrench open a window, just so I can breathe under the suffocating weight of losing her.

As I continue circling my apartment, an itch to tear the place apart grows. There's nothing obviously wrong with the space. I've bought comfortable couches, mounted a decent sized TV on the wall. The kitchen is clean and well-stocked.

But as I stare around, I can't help thinking of it as a blackhole of emptiness. Because she's not here.

There are pieces of her. The scarf she crocheted for me hangs by the door alongside my new, decorated helmet. The sparkly barrette I unclipped from her hair the first time we slept together sits in the middle of the coffee table, reminding me to give it back.

I scowl, knowing I'm never giving that little bit of her up. Not if she's leaving me.

Each piece feels like a shout into an echoing cavern. A glaring reminder that my home, my life, doesn't have her in it any longer.

I try to imagine tomorrow, and the next day, and a week from now. Every time that I will come back here, and there will be no Zoey. Just me, and this empty apartment.

I can't.

The thought digs into me, and I'm brought back to the first night I saw her, sitting at the bar, drinking bourbon while she slipped her little hook through yarn. Just like I knew there was no possible future that involved her leaving The Rabbit Hole without me talking to her, I know now there can be no future where I live without her.

But she won't stay.

So . . . that means I have to go with her.

Once the idea forms in my head, I know it's the right one.

Not necessarily the easiest, but it's right.

Here I have my pack, but who am I to say my pack is more important than her family?

I was asking her to leave her loved ones behind, without considering taking that route myself. Zoey even offered to try long-distance, and I threw that back in her face. Just dismissed the possibility. As if she wasn't worth the effort.

When really, she's worth everything.

Zoey probably doubts that I ever cared for her.

My fingers tangle in my hair, tugging at the strands as a growl vibrates in my chest.

I never considered compromising. I asked her to give up her family plus a better situation for her job, and demanded she live in a town where I'm almost sure someone wants to hurt her.

Who would say yes to that?

What kind of man am I?

If only there was a way to go back in time and challenge my dense self. More growls spill from my throat, as if Warner from a few hours ago is standing in front of me.

But he's not. It's just me and my realization that I've made a mess of the best thing to come into my life. I need to fix this.

As I stalk to my bedroom, I pull my cellphone out and dial a familiar number. While it rings, I grab a duffle bag and start filling it.

"Warner," is my brother's only greeting.

"Roderick. Can you come by the store? I've got something important I need to tell you."