Page 20 of The Girl and the Cobra

But kissing her isn’t meant to be, because shortly after those thoughts enter in my head, we’re interrupted: “Mabel, Tristan.” Wolf’s voice cuts into our staring contest, and Mabel is the first to look away, at Wolf, who stands near the furniture closer to the house. He brought out a small tray with three cups.

I hold in the groan that threatens to escape me; leave it to Wolf to interrupt at the worst possible time. I get to my feet quicker than Mabel, and as a result I offer her my hand again.

Mabel looks as though she doesn’t want to get up, but in the end she accepts the offer and sets her hand in mine. Once her hand touches mine, my fingers are slow to curl around it; this time I know to savor each and every second. I help her up, and then, hand in hand, we walk to the table where Wolf stands, watching the entire interaction.

I’ll probably never hear the end of it, but you know what? I don’t care.

I let Mabel pick her chair first, and only after she sits do I release my hold on her hand. I choose the seat next to hers, not wanting to leave just yet. Since Wolf brought out three cups of whatever tea he made, I safely assume I’m welcome to stay—for now.

Wolf sets a cup in front of Mabel, and then in front of me. He takes the last cup as he sits down, and he picks up the teabag by the string and swirls it around his cup. Both Mabel and I watch him; I know he’s got something to say, but he’s holding back, waiting for the exact right time to say it.

Mabel reaches for her cup and fiddles with it before taking a sip, and the face she makes after that sip tells me she’s not a tea person. Neither am I—which is why I don’t touch my cup or the tea inside it.

“Mabel,” Wolf starts, “the entire reason you’re a patient of mine is because you agreed to come to me. Your father was worried about you. He wants you to get better, as do I. I’m sure Tristan here agrees.” Beneath his glasses, his eyes flick to me, and all I can do is nod once.

He’s not wrong. I don’t like seeing her upset or knowing she almost drove herself into a tree to try to take her own life.

“Tonight isn’t the first time you’ve thought about taking your own life,” Wolf states, and hearing that information makes me glance at Mabel, but she’s too busy staring at Wolf over her cup of tea. “The fact that you came here is good, however, I am concerned the next time you might not. All it takes is once, and then that’s it. No second chances. No do-overs. You’d be gone.”

Mabel quietly says, “I know.”

“Let me ask you this: do you feel comfortable here?”

All she does is nod.

“Perhaps we should try something else,” Wolf suggests. “You know Tristan lives here. How would you feel if you did the same?”

“What?” Wolf’s words must catch Mabel off-guard, because that’s the only thing she says.

“You must feel comfortable with yourself and the things you feel before you can face them and overcome them. Living here, I would be available to you whenever you need me, and youwouldn’t have to stress about acting like everything is fine in front of your father. Of course, your father would be free to visit you whenever he wishes.”

“Um, I don’t think we have the money for that—”

Wolf says, “It would cost no more than what your father is already paying. Consider it a gift, if you must. I want to see you make progress, and it seems to me, you and Tristan have much in common. It’s not often I’m wrong, but I’m starting to believe perhaps I was wrong to keep you two apart. I believe you could help each other.”

My first instinct is to narrow my eyes at Wolf and wonder what kind of game he’s playing. Such a quick one-eighty, considering how he drilled it into my head that Mabel’s off-limits to me in every way.

A man like him doesn’t change his mind so easily. No, there has to be more to it. But Mabel seems to trust him, so it isn’t a question I can ask him right now… and whenever I do, I doubt he’ll tell me the full truth.

But then, as I think about it, the more I can’t complain. If Mabel’s living here, she’ll be close, and if she’s close…

There are a lot of ways that sentence could finish, not all of them good. What if I end up hurting her? What if whatever spell she’s under right now when she talks to me fades, and she starts to treat me like the monster I am?

A thousand what-ifs. I guess the only thing we can do is wait and see what happens.

“How…” Mabel pauses. “How would it work? I mean, how would I tell my dad I want to stay here?”

“Well, for starters, I believe that’s his car out front, so I would follow you there. We would tell him what happened tonight, and how I believe you need more care than our current sessions. Your father wants what’s best for you, as all good parents do.You would pack what you need, and then you would come home with me.”

Listening to him speak, it doesn’t sound real. Mabel’s going to move in. She’s going to live here. It’s surreal.

Am I dreaming? Because that’s what this has to be: a fantasy. A dream that would in reality never come true. It’s the only way I can explain away Wolf’s sudden switch tonight. There is absolutely no way this is just about Mabel.

She thinks on it as she toys with the teabag. For a split second she appears sad, soul-crushingly sad, and then she looks at Wolf and says, “Okay.”

Wolf stands and sets his cup on the tray while his other hand slides into his pocket. He pulls out his phone. “Let me call your father and inform him we’re on our way over. Finish your tea. I’ll meet you out front.” With a tight-lipped smile, Wolf disappears inside the house.

Mabel picks up her cup and takes another sip, and when she pulls the cup away I see the frown on her lips. Finally, those eyes land on me. “Can I tell you a secret?” she whispers as she leans toward me.

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