Page 5 of Willow Embers
I could call out. Probably should. But I’ve had nearly half an hour to think about what I want to say to her, and now that I’m here, I’ve still got nothing.
She spins around, her ponytail whipping as she does. I swallow back a groan. I knew seeing her again would be a lot like a sucker punch, butdamn.
A flurry of emotions flicker across her face. Her eyes narrow, her shoulders slump, and she breathes one exasperated word, “Fuck.”
THREE
NIXIE
It takesmy brain a minute to catch up with the facts.
Like that it was Beauden’s number Breigh gave me.
And she knew it.
So, yeah, she’s dead to me now.
But even worse, Beauden didn’t tell me who he was on the phone. He just… ambushed me. What kind of person does that?
The same kind who drops everything when you call.
I slam the door on the voice of reason in my head. I am not emotionally stable enough for reason right now. I’m angry. I feel manipulated. And I am worried so freaking sick that it’s manifesting physically. An army of butterflies is at war in my stomach, and I hunch over to keep from throwing up.
Not that there’s anything in my stomach to lose. I skipped breakfast and lunch thanks to my hangover, and I have yet to figure out where my water bottle landed when I did my best impression of Superwoman trying to grab Tiberius’s leash.
And all I can think is that this cannot be happening.
Not this guy. Not now.
“Nixie?” The concern in Beauden’s smooth voice makes it all so much worse. “Are you okay?”
No, no I’m not.
I’m so far from okay that I’m tempted to haul myself upright and tell him to fuck right off and go away.
The words are right there, burning the tip of my tongue as I straighten my back and roll my shoulders. But instead of unleashing my fury on him, I just stand there, panting against the nausea, trying to find my voice. Hot tears singe my eyelids and I blink them back. I had imagined how a reunion with Beauden would go a thousand times, but it was never like this.
Because in those daydreams, I always had the upper hand. The moral high ground. I was the one in control.
And I’m definitely not in control right now.
I turn my back to him and stare out into the woods, my gaze following the trail. “Tiberius went that way,” I grind out. I check my phone for the hundredth time. “About four and a half hours ago,” I add, trying not to let that massive time lapse deflate me.
I don’t know what I expect Beauden to say or do. A better woman would probably thank him for coming out here, but I don’t have it in me. I just want to find my dog, leave this town, and never, ever come back.
Beauden comes up beside me, keeping a respectable distance that’s still way too close for how volatile I am, and holds out an olive-green canteen.
“Drink,” he orders, with a note of softness that twists the knife piercing my heart.
“I’m fine. Can we just?—”
“If you want my help, we’re going to do this my way, and it starts with water,” he says. He’s calm. Collected. And for some reason that ratchets up my frustration.
But I bite my tongue, because guess what? He’s the only one out here with me. The only help I have. I might be a whirlwind ofvolcanic emotions, but I understand that much. And as much as I hate to admit it, I do need his help.
Snatching the canteen out of his hand, I glare at it for a minute. “Did you get this in the Army?”
He doesn’t respond. Nope, he just stands there, waiting for me to take a drink. So, I unscrew the lid and down a gulp. It’s blissfully cold, and my eyelids flutter shut as that coolness works its way through my body. When I open them, I feel the tiniest bit better, physically.
