Page 37 of Witch's Wolf

“And what about this audition? Do I have to fly to LA for that?”

“Oh, no,” he says with a laugh, though I don’t see what’s funny about it. “We can do that right here in New York. I’ll make surethe content reaches the right ears when I get back to the office. When would you be available?”

“Monday afternoon” I reply, a smile forming on my face.

“Excellent. Here,” he says, laying another business card on the counter. “Please, give me your phone number. I’ll call you with the details about your audition.”

“Thank you, Mr. Jenkins.” I say, jotting down my cell number. “I won’t let you down. That much I can promise you.”

“I know you won’t, Ms. Connors,” he says with a confident tone, rising. “I know you won’t.”

I stare at his card in my hand. Patricia rushes over while the moment is still sinking in. This is my chance. My ticket to fame. It’s taken hard work and dedication to get what I deserve, but I’ve had all the desire in the world to bust my butt for this.

I’ve been single-mindedly working towards it since I was a little girl. Giving it all I am. Now, all that effort is about to be rewarded…

20

SAM

Fourteen days.

Fourteen days of silence. Of waiting. Of trying to tell myself it doesn’t matter. That I don’t care. Which is a lie.

I’ve thrown myself into work, into the familiar growl of engines and cold metal beneath my hands. Raul and Ray keep me busy at the shop, pushing to finish the two custom bikes we’ve been working on. This is why I like machines. They’re simple and reliable. They don’t wake you up in the middle of the night with the ghost of a voice you can’t forget.

The motorcycles gleam under the workshop lights, polished to perfection. We take them out under the sun. The chrome catching the light is dazzling. Normally, I’d be exhilarated, but despite the beauty of what we created, I’m not. I’m numb.

It’s just the cold.

The mountain air cuts through even the thickest layers and sinks into my bones. Part of it is that I can’t take the bikes for a test run. Awareness and control are everything when ridingthe mountain roads that surround Dawson. One misstep, one second of distraction, and you’re just another statistic. My leg throbs, a painful reminder of just how dangerous it can be.

My sister Nora’s been hovering ever since the accident. Cooking, checking in, making sure I eat like I might waste away if she doesn’t. She comes by the shop every day, asking what we want for lunch, pretending it’s for all of us, but we all know the truth. She’s not here for Raul or Ray. She’s here for me.

She pretends to take their orders, but no matter what they request, when she returns it’s my favorite meal she’s carrying. The kind of thing that should make me smile, but it doesn’t. It’s not pure kindness, she’s worried. And worst of all is, she’s right to be.

She sees it, despite my best attempts to deny it even to myself. No matter how much I try not to, all I can think about is Erica. And the way she left me without looking back.

Still, no matter what my siblings do to try and help, forgetting that day at Shandaken Medical Center has been impossible. It clings to me like frost on a winter morning, seeping under my skin, burrowing deep until it’s all I can feel. I tell myself to let it go. To accept that Erica has made her choice. And still questions gnaw away, refusing to let go.

Why?

Why chase me, push me, break down every wall I threw up, only to walk away the second I let her in?

There is no way in hell I’m going to ask her. I’d rather be ripped apart by a fucking vampire, but Monica is one of her closest friends. Her I can ask, or try, but she’s been no help either. Threetimes I knocked on her door and three times she gave me the same unreadable expression and the same damn words.

“She has her reasons. She’ll explain when she deems fit.”

Right. I’m supposed to accept that? Sit back and wait like some fool, hoping she’ll grace me with an explanation whenever the fuck it suits her?

No. Hell fucking no.

If Erica had looked me in the eye and told me it was over, I would walk away. Sure, it would hurt, but I would’ve respected it. Mostly expected it really. This is what you get with humans. She didn’t though, she left me lying in that hospital bed, no warning. Barely a goodbye.

That wasn’t closure. That was a coward’s exit.

Fourteen days. Fourteen days of stewing. Anger, hurt, betrayal simmering on a low boil. Fourteen days and now it’s Saturday again. Answers. I need answers and by all that is holy I’m going to get them.

I tried to borrow Raul’s truck, but he keeps refusing, so I go to Nora. She doesn’t want to, keeps offering to drive for me, but she finally gives in and hands me the keys to her jeep. It’s late afternoon as I pull out and head for the city that never sleeps.

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