The Hellhound's Mate

Angie's Return - Part 13

(A/N: This is the last chapter for Angie's Return. I hope you've enjoyed reading it!) 

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The loft smelled like old coffee and rain — the kind of smell that settled into the bones of a place and made it feel lived in. Moonlight cut through the high windows in pale stripes, painting Derek's scars in silver. He stood by the open door, duffel at his feet. Angie felt like the room had shrunk to the space between them.

She kept her hands curled in the fabric of his shirt, nails biting circles into the cotton, and let herself fold into him. Her face was buried in his shoulder; she pressed so close she could feel the steady rise and fall of him, the small, human sounds that made him someone she could reach when everything else was chaos.

"I don't want you to go," she whispered, the words muffled but raw, like they'd been chewed and swallowed half a dozen times before she let them out. The ache in her chest was all the louder for the years she'd spent learning to silence it.

Derek's arms tightened, one hand coming up to stroke the back of her head. He smelled like motor oil and cedar, like the loft and like home in some strange way, and it was ridiculous how much that small thing steadied her. "You're not losing me, Ange," he said, voice low.

He was to leave and take Cora home to South America, but his return date was still extremely uncertain.

She laughed once, a broken sound, and it turned into a sob she let sink into him. "It feels like I just got you back," she said. "And now you're the one leaving."

He tipped her chin up gently with his knuckles, made her meet his eyes. There was a smile there that was half comfort, half stubbornness — the same smile that had gotten them into arguments in the locker room and kisses in the back stairwell. "The invention of cell phones was a marvellous thing," he said, the attempt at lightness earning him another sniffle and a small, wet laugh.

"You promise you'll call?" Her voice was small, ridiculous, the kind of question that meant the world.

"I promise," he said immediately. "I'm not about to lose you again. But hey, at least you'll be busy with that new job of yours."

She laughed into his chest. "Never thought I'd be working at the police station."

Derek's smile was teasing as he rested his chin on top of her head. "Well, considering you're a very experienced shoe thief, I always thought you'd be on the other side of the law."

"Hey!" she chided, but there was no heart to it.

"Not to mention, it's nepotism at its finest," he said, playful and fond. "Your father's the sheriff — you'll get to break every rule in the book."

Angie's laugh this time was clean, bright, the sound of someone letting warmth back in. "Well, I didn't finish high school, so I'll take what I can get," she said. "And who knows? Maybe it'll be fun. It'll be good to spend more time with Dad. He's... he deserves that."

For a sliver of a moment, they were both silent, letting the ordinary thought of a man and his daughter have its tiny gravity. The loft hummed with the rain and distant traffic. Derek reached up and tucked a damp strand of hair from her temple behind her ear with a tenderness that made something ache in her ribs.

Then the room tipped with a softer sort of confession. Derek's voice was steady, sure, as if he were anchoring her to a promise. "I love you, Evangeline."

Her breath hitched. As much as she hated her real name, she hated how much that sounded like a permanent goodbye.

"I love you too, Derek Samuel Hale," she said, dramatic and grinning despite the tremor in her hands. "And if I didn't, I'd kill you for calling me by my real name. And if I didn't love her, I'd never forgive Paige for telling you."