3
Marlowe
The walk back to Sabrina’s cabin is quiet. At least, as quiet as it can be when every step brings with it the crunch of fallen leaves underfoot.
It’s us who carry the silence thanks, I’m sure, to Rory’s little outburst back in the barn.
After that, things just weren’t the same. None of the earlier humor lingered in the air. A tension had grown to replace it, leaving all four of us at a loss for words. We didn’t stay long after that.
It was Sabrina who mumbled an excuse to leave, her eyes darting away from mine just as she avoided looking at Rory or Kaleb. She doesn’t like when Rory’s temper gets the better of him. No one does, of course, but it affects her the most. She shuts down, withdraws into herself.
It makes me want to reach for her, to wrap her in my arms and protect her from my own brother … but when she gets like this, she doesn’t want to be touched. She doesn’t want to be comforted. Not, at least, without answers.
The answers Rory won’t let us give her.
But they’re answers that’ll have to be given eventually.
I do reach for Sabrina’s hand in the dark dampness here under the trees, and though she doesn’t withdraw from me, she doesn’t melt into me either. It’s almost as bad. Worse, in a way.
I understand her feeling, the aching longing to not just exist beside one another—but to exist together, fully. No barriers between us. Least of all, the kind of barriers we have right now, the kind drawn by pack rules and ancient laws we can only dream of breaking.
It’s a bittersweet farewell at the door to the cabin. I have a feeling something has started to shift these last few days. Something has changed. Sabrina has changed. She’s started to think about all the reasons we won’t work again … and for good reason.
As soon as we’ve turned our back on Sabrina’s cabin, I give Rory a glare that he can’t ignore—no matter how much he wants to pretend to.
My feet are heavy in the dirt-packed earth, my breath growing laborious as I hike on up ahead.
Behind me, Rory drags his feet through the fallen leaves. Kaleb pants along beside him, his own questions sitting anxiously on the tip of his tongue.
Sabrina had every right to be upset, every right to withdraw. If I was in her place, I would have done exactly the same thing.
But where I can leave Sabrina be, let her have the space she needs to think through what this all means to her, I can’t say the same for Rory.
I wait just long enough for Kaleb to disappear into the kitchen to help Lydia with dinner—which from the frightening, furious clanging sounds coming from down the hall, is going to be a good one—before I follow Rory upstairs and corner him. I catch him right before he can escape into the solitude of his room.
“What was that about?” I growl, my hand twisting up into the front of his shirt—a gesture to repay the same action he tried on me earlier.
I feel his temper flare, but it’s no match for mine. He’s spent. I, on the other hand, have remained cool and calm for far too long.
The smug look on Rory’s face fades as I press him even harder up against the wall, my teeth bared.
“I don’t get you sometimes,” I spit. “Sometimes, I think you’re trying to push her away.”
The last remnants of that haughty look on his face fades away. I finally let him go, his shirt left crumpled where my hand gripped it moments before.
“Would it really be so bad if we told her the truth?” I ask, my voice dropping quieter in case Romulus is close enough to overhear. “What’s the point of keeping all these secrets?”
Finally, Rory answers.
“Do you want to be the one to tell her, then?” he says. “Do you want to tell her that we can never mate with her?”
I jut my jaw forward. “You keep saying that, but I don’t see why not,” I say. “We’re bonded to her already. Isn’t that enough?”
He lets out a bark. It’s not a laugh. It’s an angry, frustrated, feral thing.
“You know how the bond pains us now, do you really want to make it worse? You know, even if we mated with her, that she’d have to leave eventually?” He eyes me down the bridge of his nose, as if examining me. “I don’t know about you, but I already feel it enough. I can’t imagine it getting worse. You should heed Romulus’ advice. If we mate with her and that inevitable time comes—either she leaves us, or dies—we’ll never recover from that pain.”
With that, he whirls around.