Page 132 of Cruel Games

“Some demons never leave you, ya know,” Jackal whispered suddenly, his eyes shining with unshed tears. “If you pull that shit again, I’ll haunt you worse than any demon you’ve ever known.”

I chuckled as Dingo shook his head behind Jackal, smiling despite himself. “I’m glad you’re back, brat,” he said quietly, a sincere gratitude in his eyes as he turned and walked away. “Welcome back,” he shot over a shoulder, and then he was gone, leaving me alone with Jackal.

A place that immediately felt more charged and tense than it had been with a witness in the room.

His eyes burned with something I couldn’t understand, but thankfully, he put it in words, saying what he needed to with the usual Jackal dramatics.

“You hurt us all,” he said sullenly, pouting like a child. “But you hurt Coyote the most. He hasn’t slept in days. Been combing the streets looking for you.”

I didn’t have anything to say to that. He was right, really. There was no telling how hard Coyote had pushed himself to find me. It had to be an insane level.

“You know, he was working on some bullshit poem while you were gone. Reciting the fucking thing every night in his room, in the living room, wherever he could pace.” He ran ahand through his hair, sighing. “Took me three days to figure out he waswritingthe damn thing.

I gasped in shock. “He wrote me a poem?”

“A fucking ballad. A confession. Something big, s’all I know. He was torn up. Couldn’t sleep, would barely stop long enough to eat.”

“He passed out when he found me in the park.”

“I’m surprised he didn’t fall over dead.”

That line delivered the intended dose of guilt. “That’s unfair, Jackal.”

“Is it?” He cocked a brow and stared pointedly at my hands, clutched in my lap. “Or is it just a truth you don’t wanna hear?”

“I didn’t want to leave,” I said, feeling the need to defend myself even though I knew I was in the wrong. “I didn’t know what to do. And I needed answers.”

“I sure hope you found them,” he muttered, rising from his kneeling place by the tub. “Listen, for what it’s worth, I don’t hate you.” His eyes were glued to the floor as he whispered the words. “But I don’tlovepeople like normal people do. So if you’re expecting some flowery bullshit and a happy ever after, that’s not us. But if you, well, if you’re okay with justbeinga part of this, we’d like you to—I’d like you to stay.”

This was the closest Jackal would ever come to saying he cared about me. I could see it in his actions, though, so maybe I didn’t need it in words. I didn’t need some fancy, flowery promise from a man who’d spent more time hating me than caring about me. But I was far from someone who had any business claiming she knew all about love. All I thought I knew had been a backward, convoluted lie.

“I’m not going anywhere,” I said, realizing our broken pieces lined up perfectly in this water-logged, old, damaged puzzle. “The answers aren’t important anymore.”

“Good,” he said, closing the bathroom door behind him.

Good.

FIFTY

COYOTE

I woke in my bed,alone, like so many times before. All of a sudden, images of the day before flashed through my mind, and I was out of the sheets like a man possessed, eyes roving the room to make sure I wasn’t hallucinating.

A small figure in the center of my bed groaned and wriggled beneath the blankets, protesting my sudden movement.

“Come back to bed, Coyote,” a small voice muttered, and my speeding heart ground to a halt as I realized my panic was in vain. “You need more rest.”

I lifted the covers slowly, peering underneath them to reveal the source of the voice. Ivy was curled into a ball, one eye open as she regarded me with a soft smile.

It melted my soul like wax beneath a flame.

“Ivy,” I said stupidly, just staring at her as she snuggled deeper beneath the blanket. “You’re here.”

“I’m about to be somewhere else if you don’t get back in bed and stop letting all the warmth sneak away.”

“Why are you in my bed?” I asked in confusion, curious and very disoriented. “Why are we in my room?”

“I carried you back here when you passed out on top of me in the woods,” she admitted simply, like it was the most normal thing in the world for a small woman like herself to carry a whole ass two hundred pound man over two miles to his home.

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