Page 101 of It's You
“I understand,” Jack interrupted in a tight voice. “She’s not.”
Tombeur was quiet for a while, probably deciding whether or not to take Jack’s word. Jack sat rigidly, waiting to hear what Tombeur would say next. He finally relaxed when Tombeur asked, “What’re you going to do?”
Jack’s first instinct was to insist,I’ll go back and work on it. I’ll make her want me. I’ll make her love me again. Then he saw her face in the boat, the timbre of her voice, so cold, so hard. His lip twitched with betrayal and anger.
“I don’t know,” he answered honestly. “She doesn’t want me.”
He couldn’t force her to love him. They’d be bound forever, but they could live separate lives. He couldn’t be re-bound, buthe could find aveuve, a widow who needed protection and care. He’d never love her, but he could care for her, and maybe they could even have children one day, full-bloods like him. He never had to return to the Southern Bloodlands. He never had to return to Darcy Turner. He could stay away, as she had demanded.Spend my life among the other monsters.
Even as his thoughts drifted in this direction, somewhere inside he knew it was impossible. His heart. His eternally hopeful heart loved her. Loved her most of any other being living on the face of the earth.
Jack took a deep breath, hating his heart, hating his binding, hating Darcy Turner most of all.
Tombeur’s question lingered.What’re you going to do?
“Go back to her,” Jack heard himself murmur. “Someday.”
“Never saw a binding as strong as yours.” Tombeur nodded beside him. “And with a human, no less.”
“What aboutyours?” Jack asked sourly, wishing to hell the human, who was supposed to love him, hadn’t left him to drown.
“Mine was…” Tombeur’s voice trailed off.
“Was what?”
“Complicated,” said Tombeur, turning his neck to glance at Dubois again.
“Bywhat?” asked Jack, hearing the challenge in his tone, already knowing the answer, but wanting to hear it from his friend’s lips.
“She was sickly. She couldn’t be a true mate. Made me long for things outside of the binding.”
“I don’t. I don’t long for anything but Darcy, and she can’t hunt at all.”
“Like I said, strongest binding I ever seen.” Tombeur took a deep breath and sighed. “You think we should call Tallis? Warn her he’s coming home?”
“Don’t need to.” Jack shook his head. “She’ll feel it.”
They rode in silence for some time until Tombeur glanced around at Dubois’s limp body lying on the back seat. “He’s in real bad shape, Jacques.”
“Yeah.” Jack nodded, clenching his jaw against the sudden wave of sadness he felt. For his father’s wasted life. His mother’s betrayal. Darcy’s rejection. The list was getting longer and longer.
“Almost at your mama’s now, Jacques. You focus on your folks now.”
Jack pulled into the parking area adjacent to the cabin, noting the dim light of the living room still on. His mother opened the door, her face awash with tears.
Jack pushed open his door in time to hear his mother’s faint, grief-stricken voice.
“Il est trop tard,” she said, opening the back door of the car to look at the body of her dead husband, before falling on her knees in the mud beside him. She bent her head forward until it rested on Dubois’s thin, gray mop of hair, then wailed, “Il est déjà parti.”
It’s too late. He’s already gone.
Jack staredup at the ceiling, lying in his childhood bed. Julien had helped him bring in their father’s body and lay it gently on the kitchen table. Tallis would spend the night with him, preparing him for burial in the morning, and Tombeur insisted on staying with her.
Julien lay in the other twin bed next to Jack.
“She knew,” he said. “About half an hour ago, she started clutching at her heart and crying. She knew he was gone.”
Jack breathed through his nose, blinking back weak, useless tears. His father had likely died as he and Tombeur sat in the front seat discussing complicated bindings. How incredibly pathetic.
