Page 76 of Heartsong
That’s exactly where they’d been the night before. Frey was definitely the size of a big black bear on its hind legs, if not bigger.
She shuddered to think of how angry he must be. How outraged to make such deep, horrid marks in those trees.
Her stomach churned unhappily, and her heart took to aching again.
She was still so angry with him for what he’d done, but there was no fire to it now. Everything else drowned under the weight of her migraine, and she hated that. She hated that her pain reduced her to yelling at him. Yeah, what he’d done was shitty, but he’d been right about some stuff, too.
Anna didn’t let people in, not deep enough or long enough to hurt her. Rely on no one, trust no one. That’s what she’d learned from life.
And isn’t that just awful?
Was that really how she wanted to be?
She’d made herself promises about being honest, with herself and others. She was proud of the progress she’d made and being able to both support herself and take care of herself and Captain.
Frey wanted to take care of her, too.
Tears slipped out, soaking the heating pad.
Him wanting to take care of her didn’t diminish how much she’d accomplished. And being honest, she loved how he was with her and Captain. Even with his gigantic gaps in knowledge and being, ya know, a mythical creature from sixth-century Wales, he was the type of partner most people would kill for. Playful, supportive, confident—he was the type she’d want, too, wings and all.
I’ve been looking a gift horse in the mouth.
But being supportive and attentive didn’t mean that she could just trust where she hadn’t before. She didn’t know if he couldcarefor her. For her heart.
You never gave him the chance to.
No risk, no reward—but also no repercussions.
And yet, Anna was living with all the repercussions, but had she really risked anything? Sort of. Not really. So was there no reward or was she just wrong?
The tears came harder, and Anna pulled off the heating pad, stifled by her own sobs.
Captain padded up her side, and his rough little tongue licked at what he could reach of her cheek.
Anna didn’t like who she was in pain. Short-tempered, irritable, insensitive. Yeah, she knew she could cut herself some slack, that anyone with chronic pain understood you didn’t start from go when you began the day already in pain. It was a struggle just surviving some days, and she couldn’t be expected to be her best self.
But she also didn’t like things about herself even when she wasn’t in pain. She didn’t like that she couldn’t trust. She didn’t like that at the first sign of something intimate or difficult, she fell back into her ruts. She didn’t like that, rather than trying, she hid herself away.
Anna had told Frey she didn’t want to be sidelined or sequestered by him. Wasn’t she just doing it to herself, though? How was that any better?
It wasn’t.
But what could she do about it now?
Scritching Captain, Anna sat up. After the dizziness dissipated, she hobbled to the windows. Opening the blinds revealed a cold, clear night sky. No stars were visible with all the city lights, but the moon hung full in the sky. Unlatching the window, she left it unlocked before staggering into her room.
It ate at her that she had no way to contact him. No way to ask him to come back. No way of finding out if he was okay.
She didn’t know what she’d say to him or how she’d make this right, but he shouldn’t be out there alone. Anna did know how much it sucked to be alone.
I’ll go look for him,she promised herself as she climbed into bed.Get rid of this headache, then go look for him.
Frey woke in a strange place full of strange smells. It all came back to him slowly, finding a secluded place to take the stone sleep. He’d flown some distance the night before, passing over the bay and the large red bridge. In amongst the hills that faced the dramatic coastline, he’d found a quiet ridge to set down.
The tang of salt on the air was hauntingly familiar, and he turned his face into the last rays of the disappeared sun, soaking in its final warmth. Spreading his wings wide, Frey caught an updraft, following the coast north. Centuries ago, he and his kin had patrolled a western coast, testing the strength of their wings in the strong winds and racing the seabirds. It was a different coast, different seabirds, differentcentury,but the familiarity of it soothed him. Frey felt…grounded as he soared.
The sea air and glittering stars watched as he cut across the night, a shadow that fell over the sparser human settlements. His hair tangled wildly in the wind, and his wings stretched and pumped. Muscles long tight and cramped from being kept to the confines of his mate’s dwelling eased and loosened, and it was a pleasure to push himself to the point of ache.
