Page 92 of Heat Clinic

“You know we wouldn’t mind paying it for you,” Tom says.

I shake my head. It’s not about the money. It’s about saying goodbye. “No, I appreciate it but I want to do this. I need to sort through and label my stuff and take care of my plants and quit and say goodbye to my friends.”

“I can’t wait to meet your family next month,” Marcus says.

Sam and I share a loaded look. I sigh, deflating more and more the longer I think about it.

Marcus misreads my hesitance. “Mothers love me. I do very well with meeting mothers.”

“That’s true,” Tom says. “I think my mother loves Marcus more than me.”

We’re going to miss our train if they keep stalling us. That might actually be their goal. Marcus wanted to drive us back to Boston, but he has meetings he can’t rearrange and I can’t keep putting this off. It has to get done.

“All right,” I say, pulling my hands free and patting him on the chest. “The train’s about to leave, so we need to go. I’ll text you when we get there. I love you both.”

I kiss him and then Tom and grab my bag. Sam and I hop on the train and wave from the open doorway, then grab seats in a quiet car and lift our bags up into the luggage rack.

My phone chirps, and I tug it out of my back pocket as we sit.

Marcus

I miss you already. Love you.

Emily

I love you too

??

Sam rubs his chest as he stares out the window, and after a few minutes the train pulls out and picks up speed. He’s still rubbing his chest when I look up from my book a few chapters later.

“Are you okay?” I ask.

“Fine, but he’s sad. It’s weird to sense someone else through the pack bond. It’s like the impression your pen leaves on the sheets underneath the paper you’ve written on. I’m not sure if I’ll ever get used to it.”

I can’t imagine what that’s like, but I won’t have to guess for much longer. My heat is due in a week if the dynamic specialist who Marcus is making me go see is correct.

In a few days, I’ll be claimed, and our pack will be complete.

I lean against Sam and drop my head onto his shoulder, savoring his creamsicle scent. He stops rubbing the ache in his chest and strokes my hair instead. Trees in shades of yellow, orange, and red whip by as the train takes us out of the state, and I marvel at the scenery that always feels a little magical. They’re losing their leaves, and it won’t be long before we have the first snow of the year.

When we get to Boston, I send Marcus and Tom a text while Sam stuffs our luggage into a taxi. My apartment is smaller and shabbier than I remember, but none of my plants are dead. I read the note the house sitter left behind detailing when she last fertilized and watered all of them.

“Looks like the movers have already started. There are extra boxes and cling wrap. What do you want to work on first?” Sam asks.

“Books, clothes, and plants. Everything else is getting donated. Hand me that box?” We spend the afternoon wrapping and packing, the permanent marker squeaking as I label each box.

It’s odd seeing my things lined up in brown boxes stacked against one wall. The apartment looks strange. Like it already isn’t mine anymore. And it’s not, or at least it won’t be in a few days. We order takeout and eat out of the cartons so there are no dishes to wash.

Even my bed feels wrong. Small and empty. It smells like laundry detergent and a faint whiff of the house sitter’s powdery lilac scent. My sleep is fitful, and the blaring alarm makes me wake with an irritated groan. It’s so fucking early. Sam’s arms try to keep me in bed with him as I pull myself from its warmth and stumble into the bathroom, brushing my teeth and getting ready for my last day of work.

Driving through morning commuter traffic is harrowing. It’s only been twelve weeks since I left. How have I already forgotten what it’s like to drive at this time?

I’ve also forgotten my work password, and I spend the first half hour of the day on the phone with IT as they reset it and then finally I’m logged in. I count the hours down until it’s lunchtime. The work is even more mind numbing than I remember. At lunch, Lindsay is eating with someone I don’t know, but her eyes light up when she sees me and she hugs me so tight I can’t breathe.

I pat her on the back and smile. “I missed you too.”

“Sit with us! Dawn, this is Emily. She’s been out on leave.” She swings her head to me. “Dawn works in accounting with me. So how have you been? How did it go?” Her eyes flick to my neck where my sweater doesn’t cover. She’s looking for a bite mark. Her smile falls when she doesn’t find one.

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