Page 43 of Fire Bound

Neither one of them sawmecoming.

“Of course, I remember you, Lorena.” I’m barely able to get those words out without them sounding strangled. With one last glance at Whisper, I slip out the back door away from prying eyes and ears. This isn’t a conversation I want to have, but I sure as hell don’t want an audience.

“I hadn’t planned on calling you,” Lorena says quickly. “I promised I wasn’t going to call and ask you questions I’m sure you don’t want to answer, but I saw my phone lying there. Before I knew what I was doing I had dialed your number. I’ve been thinking about him a lot today. As I should be, I suppose. He might not be here anymore but it’s still his birthday,” she rambles, not once does it sound like she’s taken a breath. I’m not sure I have either since I answered. “It’s his birthday today, I’m not sure if you knew that.”I didn’t. “I’ve spent all day thinking about my boy. I’ve also spent all day thinking about what you told me. That phone call? I memorized every word you said, I repeat it over and over in my head when I need to remind myself that my son died a hero.” I’m going to be sick on Winnie’s deck. That sugary cereal I just ate is going to make an unholy encore performance. “I know you said at the time that you told me everything that happened, but I don’t know. I guess I just wanted to know if you remembered anything else that you could tell me. Selfishly, I think I’m just looking for ways to make this…excruciatinggrief... easier.”

I force the bile back down, swallowing hard. Inhaling multiple shaky breaths, I try to steady myself before I speak. Even hundreds of miles away, I’m afraid she’ll be able to sense my lies. I haven’t admitted to anyone what happened, I’m not going to start with hismother. “He died protecting his pack.”The good ol’ company line. “We tried our best to have each other’s backs, but the battle was chaotic; we were all fighting for our lives. Gage was so strong, he fought for his pack—for his people—until his last breath.” That’s not a lie.

“Gage cared about all of you so much.” Her voice cracks. I’m not sure how this conversation is helping her. It feels like we’re pouring salt into our open wounds. “He wasn’t always the easiest person to be around, but he really did care about that pack.”

“I know.” I nod, even though she can’t see me. She’s right. Gage was a total prick occasionally. He was cocky and arrogant. At times, he was even wildly condescending. His inability to read the room got him into trouble more times than I can count, but he took his job as head enforcer seriously. It was the ultimate honor to him to have that job. Beneath the abrasive surface was a good man. “I never doubted that about him.”

“I just wish there was something you could tell me that would make it hurt less.”

I release a long breath. My hand rests over my chest, my racing heart beats hard against my palm. “Lorena, nothing I tell you is going to take away the pain. You lost someone you loved, and ithurts.” I’m hurting in a different way than her, but the pain is the same, nonetheless. If I tell her the truth, it’ll only make it hurt worse and I want to spare her as best as I can. She deserves whatever reprieve I can offer her. If lying to her will help, I’ll lie like it’s my fucking job. “I wish there was something I could do to take away your agony but nothing I say is going to magically make the grief go away. They say it gets easier with time, that eventually one day when you think about your son, it won’t feel like this. Hold on to that. I am desperately clinging to that thought like it’s my life raft in this sea of pain.” We just have to keep our head above water and eventually we’ll make it to dry land.

I don’t know if I’ll ever think of Gage and not feel the stabbing pain in my chest as guilt floods my body. More importantly, I don’t know if I’ll ever deserve to feel at peace.

“I wish he was here.”

And I wish I could have saved them both.“Me too.” My voice is just barely a whisper. Even outside with the fresh air cascading over me as the wind cuts through the trees, I feel like I’m suffocating. My world is closing in on me. The panic attack I’ve been putting off for weeks is barreling toward me like a freight train.

If I don’t get off the phone with this woman, she’s going to hear my breakdown. If I’ve learned anything in the past six months, it’s that these moments are best done in private. Where no one can witness the shame written across my face. Where no one can judge you harder than you judge yourself.

My chest is so tight that I can’t even muster a proper goodbye to Lorena. I’m pressing the off button on the device before the line is dead.

Maybe I was wrong. Maybe I’m not ready to have my phone back.

On shaky legs, I rush down the stairs and into the forest behind the house. These woods are my home. My wolf is usually at peace here. If I’m going to make it through the hurricane of unwanted emotions roaring through my bones, I need whatever peace I can get.

On instinct and muscle memory alone, I make my way through the trees. Each fallen log and each rock on the trail I recognize. If I had to, I could navigate these woods blind. Right now, I basically am blind. My head is so clouded by the duress I’m feeling that I can barely see what’s in front of me.

I don’t know how long I walk, but eventually I make it up to the bluffs that overlook the lake. From here I can see my parents’ and Pruitt’s house that sit along the lake. The unique treehouse Ranger lives in sits hidden in the trees somewhere behind Pruitt’s lake house. Ransom and Isabeau live farther away from the lake, but their home is out there somewhere. Perfectly happy homes my brothers have created for their mates that could be torn apart any day now by Sterling.

At least if that time comes, they’ll have their unbreakable bonds to rely on. Meanwhile, I feel like I’m broken.

Burned and broken beyond repair.

Hands on my knees, I bend at the waist and force air into my reluctant lungs. Everything hurts. Lorena was looking for a way to ease the pain. She wanted to talk about her son. Meanwhile, the way I’ve been trying to cope is by avoiding it all. Avoiding my family, avoiding talking about Gage, even trying my best to avoid thinking about him.

I’m not sure which way is better because either way you’re going to eventually feel the pain. You can feel the pain now, or you can feel it later. Either way, it’s going to knock the wind out of your lungs, I’m finding.

My fingernails dig into the skin on my knees so hard it breaks the skin. Red, half-moon-shaped marks mar my skin now, but I don’t care. The small burn of that pain distracts me from the soul-deep ache I feel now.

For the first time ever, I’m wishing for tears to fall. The emotional release of them might help and I’ll take anything at this point. The lightweight hoodie I wear feels like too much, too confining, the hair tie in my hair feels like it’s pulling at my scalp. I tear at both, letting them fall into the dirt at my feet.

Eyes squeezed shut and the wind blowing through my now loose hair, I try to breathe. The second I feel him walk up behind me, my body tenses but my wolf’s agitation is instantly sated. She doesn’t understand that herejectedus. She wants him on a level that is embarrassing to admit. It’s borderline obsessive and it’s only gotten worse since we’ve been actively avoiding each other the past year.

“Remington,” he says my name. His smooth voice washes over me like liquid fire.

I don’t turn around. “I need you to leave, Jax. Please just go. I begged you to stay last time, but this time I’m begging you to leave. I need you to listen to me now.”

Of course, the fucker doesn’t listen. “What happened?”

I contemplate lying, but what’s the use? He’s not going to go away. When I want him here, he leaves me, but the second I don’t, he becomes a level fourteen clinger. I can’t keep up with this man. The emotional whiplash is causing my brain to bruise and my walls to crack. “It’s Gage’s birthday. I had no idea. His mother called me and told me.” Gage and I never talked about birthdays or holidays. It wasn’t that kind of relationship. At least for me it wasn’t.

Behind me, Jax shuffles slowly toward me. “Okay, what do you want to do? What will make it better? Do you want to celebrate it?” He shocks me by asking. “We can light a candle or pour a beer over his grave? Whiskey maybe? He seemed like a whiskey guy.”

“What?” I shout, dismay clear in my voice. I’m whirling around and stalking toward him before I even realize I’ve moved. “No, I don’t want to celebrate his birthday!” I throw my hands up in frustration. “I can’t celebrate the life that is no longer here because ofme. I can’t celebrate the life Isacrificed. I can’t celebrate the life of a man who looked me in the eyes and watched as I didn’t choose him. And I sure as hell can’t celebrate himwiththe man I chose over him.” At this point I’m yelling at Jax. Months of repressed secrets and guilt are spilling from me like a burst water line. “For the life of me, I couldn’t tell you why I’d choose you over him. All you’ve done is hurt me and break me, but still I picked you, Jax. And the saddest fucking part is that I’d do it again. I’d bear all this pain again if it meant that you were alive. I don’t know what kind of sick masochist that makes me, but here I am picking you over and over again, when you don’t evenwantme.”

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