Page 274 of Secret Shifters Next Door

He smiled and settled into his chair to eat. “Cool. See you later, Ava.”

I waved to him and headed back to my car. He hadn’t been lying about the size of the sandwich. The bag had to weigh at least three pounds. The smell of it permeated the interior of my car and my stomach rumbled loudly. I dug out the bag of fries that sat on top of the sandwich and started munching on those as I drove.

I pulled into my driveway about three seconds before Blayne pulled into his. Our timing couldn’t have been better…or worse, depending on how you looked at it.

I turned the car off and went to the passenger side door to grab my food. Blayne was slowly getting out of his car. His face was drawn and pale. We locked eyes, and I decided to be the bigger person.

I took a few steps toward the road and called over to him. “How are you?”

Blayne didn’t smile as he walked toward his house. “Fine.”

“Uh, do…do you feel different?” I didn’t know how else to ask.

He stopped, and after a moment, he turned around and walked in my direction. He stopped at his mailbox and put a hand on it. He let his head drop down in a sad sort of way, like he’d heard that his dog had died or something.

When he looked back up at me, fear and sadness wrapped around my insides. Blayne looked awful. I couldn’t think of a way to describe the agony shimmering in his eyes.

“Umm, I guess it’s like a part of my soul is missing,” he said. “Like it’s lost forever and I’ll never get it back.” He let out a quick shuddering sigh. “It…uh…it kinda feels like I’ve lost Liam all over again.”

Before I could say anything, he turned and walked up to his door. I stood in stunned silence and watched him. I didn’t know what to do. By the time my brain started working again, he’d closed the door behind him.

Another sliver of guilt twisted in my soul. This time, I couldn’t shrug off his pain. When Liam had died, Blayne had dumped his anguish all on me and my family. That hadn’t been the right place to focus his anger. Today, though? I couldn’t push all that away. I’d caused this agony. No one else but me. Yes, a witch had cursed him, but I’d been the one to hurt him like this.

Resigned, I turned and headed back to my house, the heavy bag of food weighing my right hand down. Even thinking about eating nauseated me. I chucked it into the fridge and flopped down on my sofa. I sat there for a long time, staring at Blayne’s front door through the living room window.

SEVEN

BLAYNE

Emily hadn’t lied about how much it would hurt. If anything, she’d undersold it. The night Ava had rejected me had passed like a fever dream. I’d spent over an hour out in my backyard writhing in pain and anguish. It had felt like my soul was being ripped from my body.

I’d spent an age trying to shift, hoping it would ease the pain a little, but even that simple act had been blocked. My body was too tormented and broken to allow my panther to come forward. The panther had seemed to be gone, lost in the storm of pain.

Eventually, I’d dragged myself into the house, but I hadn’t made it far before I collapsed on the floor. I hadn’t even had the strength to crawl onto the couch, much less upstairs to my bed. At least it had been warm inside and the carpet soft. I’d rolled around, clutching my body into the fetal position. My muscles had cramped, and electric sizzles of pain had shot through every muscle and bone.

But mental agony had been much worse. I’d never experienced so much sadness. It was as if I’d found out Liam had died again, but somehow it was three times as bad, and it had kept going on for hours with no end.

When sleep finally came, it wasn’t sleep. I’d passed out from exhaustion and pain, only to be terrorized even in my dreams. I woke the next morning, clothes soaked in sweat, head throbbing and a dull, painful ache deep in my chest. As I struggled to my feet, I realized something wasn’t right. I was empty. Hollow. A shell of what I’d been before.

I texted Tate and let him know I wouldn’t be in that day. Without even waiting for his response, I fell into my bed, burrowed into my blankets, and proceeded to go back to sleep for nearly nineteen straight hours.

When I woke, my head was even more disoriented than it had been the day before. I had to look at the clock on my phone twice before it sank in that I’d been out for almost an entire day.

That day had gone by like a blur. Quick snapshots that I had a hard time remembering were connected by other moments.

Snap—I was sitting at the kitchen table, staring blankly into a rapidly cooling cup of coffee.

Snap—I was filling my truck up at the gas station.

Snap—I was in the cemetery crying over my brother’s grave, rain soaking me to the skin.

Snap—I was in a parking lot, head leaning against the window, hugging myself and sobbing.

Snap—I was back in my house, dumbly watching a pan of bacon burn to a crisp, sharp, acrid smoke wafting up to my nose.

The strange disjointedness had finally ebbed that evening, yet I couldn’t remember half the day. I’d received over two dozen texts and calls from the guys. They’d even resorted to having their ladies try to get a hold of me. Harley had left a voicemail. April and Celina had both left a few texts. Even Tate’s adopted daughters, Jordyn and Mariah, had sent me video messages asking me to call their parents.

I started crying. No idea why. I’d never been one to cry. I was not a gushy, touchy-feely guy who broke down watchingA Walkto RememberorMarley and Me. It was like the rejection had shattered my emotional framework.

---