Page 18 of Fanged Embrace
I’d done it the other night, without intending to, when Laurie came apart in my arms.
Now that I’d started, I decided to stick with it and carefully channeled that part of myself, letting a wave of calm ripple outward from me. Nothing dramatic—just a soft hush, like a hand resting lightly on Laurie’s shoulder, focusing on that tense aura that weighed her down.
“Laurie,” I said gently, waiting a few feet away so I didn’t crowd her.
She jerked a nod, eyes flicking over my shoulder to confirm I hadn’t brought backup. “Hey.” Her brow creased like she sensed I was up to something, like she could feel my influence. But then she exhaled, a shaky breath that seemed ever so slightly less barbed than before.
I relaxed a fraction, pulling back soft tendrils of power, relieved that I hadn’t spooked her. She wasn’t running from me. She also wasn’t glaring at me.
Things were going rather well.
“So…” I began, stuffing my hands in my pockets and executing a half-assed attempt to break the ice. “I’ve been meaning to ask… Is Laurie short for something, or…?”
She blinked, clearly surprised by the question. Then she scoffed and glanced aside, muttering an answer under her breath. “Lorelai.”
“Lorelai,” I repeated, trying it out on my tongue. “That’s cute. Do people ever call you Rory?”
The reaction was instantaneous: a snap of her gaze, and gritted teeth. Fierce as a cornered animal.
“I hate Rory, and I hate Lorelai too. It’s Laurie or nothing at all.” She spat the words out. For a second, I glimpsed a flash of raw fight in her eyes.Fascinating.She might have been terrified, but she wasn’t helpless. She had her convictions and she felt strongly about them.
I raised my hands, intrigued by her fire and what could provoke it. “Understood. Laurie it is.”
Silence settled for a moment. Then Laurie-not-Lorelai-and-definitely-not-Rory pivoted, nodding at the nearby bench. “Anyway. Shall we…?”
“Sure.” We approached it side by side, not speaking until we sat—me on one end, her on the other, leaving a healthy length of space between us. A jogger passed by on the path, headphones on and blaring music loud enough to reach our ears. Somewhere behind us, a dog barked.
Unsure of where to begin, I lifted my face to the sky and forced a light tone. “Thanks for meeting me.” I watched her from the corner of my eye, taking every little detail of her expression to heart.
Laurie shrugged, gaze flicking over to me for half a second before she looked away. “It’s better than you tracking me down yourself.” There was a wry edge to her voice that suggested she onlykindatrusted that I wouldn’t.
I cleared my throat, searching for a neutral topic to break the tension. “I hope I didn’t, uh, pull you away from work to meet me.” It was a fumbling attempt at small talk, but at least it was something.
Laurie laughed—but not in any way that suggested real amusement. It was a dark, hollow sound, more bitter than anything else. “Work?” she echoed, shaking her head. “Kinda between jobs right now.”
That sparked my curiosity. “Oh. Well, do you… I mean, what do you usually do?”
“I get by,” she said bluntly, picking at her nails. “That’s what I do.”
Her gaze flicked to me, measuring my reaction. I kept my expression neutral, though a hint of sympathy tugged at my chest. It must be hard enough to navigate life with so much baggage; holding down a steady job probably felt impossible.
I stayed quiet, and after a tense moment Laurie sighed, realizing she’d have to elaborate or let the silence stretch indefinitely.
“Look, I’m not qualified for much. Never went to college or anything like that. So the best I can get is retail work, or maybe some diner gig. And dealing with customers all day?” She snorted, rubbing at the goosebumps prickling along her arms. “That’s a tall order when you’re, I don’t know… Jumpy. Paranoid. Probably insane.”
“Must be tough,” I murmured softly, looking straight aheadrather than forcing any eye contact. She seemed more open to talking when I wasn’t looking directly at her.
“Tough doesn’t cover it.” Laurie sighed. “I take too many breaks or I freak out for no reason. Eventually, they let me go. Or I leave. Either way, it doesn’t last long.”
I didn’t know what to say, so I said nothing at all.
Laurie grimaced, raking her fingers through her hair. “Anyway,” she muttered, “it’s not like you dragged me away from some pressing corporate meeting. I’ve got time.” Her tone was flat, but I sensed a flicker of resentment—maybe at the world, maybe at me. I could understand that.
“I’m sorry,” I said, low, though I knew an apology for her circumstances might only come across as pity.
She shrugged, eyes dropping to the grass at our feet. “It is what it is.”
A flock of pigeons fluttered past, pudgy bodies landing near the trash bin. Laurie watched them with a kind of longing I recognized well. That deep, desperate urge to fly away, to leave it all behind.
