Page 90 of Mongrel
I gather the horse’s reins in one hand and pat him with the other. He presses his velvet nose against my cheek, and I half wish we were alone so I could cry to him. Somehow, I think he’d understand.
Cecily’s bright voice shakes me from my stupor. “Someone get Andras. He needs a hug too.”
The four of them collect me—and Sausage by default—and we find ourselves swept into the embrace. Jakob’s hand lands on my shoulder and squeezes. As much as I love this family, and as happy as I am to see them whole again, my thoughts drift steadily to Ava. I want to ask how she’s been and to hug her as Catherine, Jakob, Cecily, and Bowie hug me.
Sausage bears the bubble of affection with the relaxed sort of posture that indicates he isn’t bothered but would rather be snacking. I adore him and his predictable nature.
When the chorus of thank-yous extends to me, my cheeks flush, and I inspect the dirt road beneath our feet. I appreciate it, of course, but I’m unfamiliar with this amount of praise. I don’t know why it makes me uncomfortable, but I want Ava more than ever.
Bowie, with his uncanny ability to understand what I need often before I realize it myself, makes excuses for us and draws me away from the group. Sausage clomps along.
“Shall we continue up the hill to Ava?” he asks.
I can’t believe he’s offering to come with me when he must be so eager to return with his family to their estate. It’s a generous offer, but I won’t be selfish. “No, Bowie. I’ll go alone. You stay with Cecily and see that Sausage is taken care of for me, will you?”
He looks torn, glancing to his family, then back to me. “But I don’t want to leave you.”
“I’ll be fine. I’ll have Ava.” I nod toward the others. “And they need you more than I do.”
He hesitates. “Are you sure? I can always come back to Varad after you’re settled.”
“I’m sure. The time by myself will do me good, help me calm down before I reach pack territory.”
Bowie’s brows furrow. “But Farkas—”
“Will be asleep at this hour,” I assure him. “I just want to see Ava. I don’t care about the other wolves.”
“But—”
“You should be with your family,” I insist.
His face falls into a sad expression that breaks my heart and prompts a surge of guilt. Guilt that Bowie feels obligated to look after me instead of enjoying his hard-won reunion gnaws.
“I’ll be fine without you, promise.” I take his shoulders and tug him in to wrap my arms around him.
When words fail, touch comes naturally. Pressing my cheek against his soft hair, I drop featherlight kisses to his nape. The wolf wants to take him up on his offer, drag him with us, insist we aren’t parted, but I overrule the selfish animal.
As I break away, the need to reassure him remains. “Don’t worry about me. Take care of them. And Sausage.”
Bowie nods. His lips form a strained smile. “Of course. Give my love to Ava.”
I wave my goodbyes to the others and hurry toward the forested hills before I can change my mind.
Ava awaits, and my heart needs her.
* * *
LeavingBowie behind is one of the hardest decisions I’ve ever made, but I know it’s the right thing to do. As much as the wolf insists he belongs to us, he doesn’t. He has a family that loves him. I won’t take him away from them when they need him the most, though after all this time together, it feels strange not to know when I’ll see him again.
Tomorrow night? The night after? Next week?
I honestly don’t know what’s appropriate. My life’s been turned upside down—and I’m glad of it—but I don’t know how to proceed when a mission isn’t guiding our actions. When it’s just Bowie and me, how do we fit?
It’s the early hours of the morning when I approach Ava’s cottage. Too soon for birdsong, hours before the first golden rays of sunlight will reach her tidy porch.
The familiar scents wash over me like a fresh spring rain: garden soil, chickens, freshly laundered bedsheets, the smell of baking and cinnamon, and best of all, Ava herself. My only real family. The woman who raised me when no one else would, who taught me to read and to hunt, who made sure I never had to be sad alone. I take a deep, fulfilling lungful and sigh it out.
Part of me hates to wake her, but the other part knows there’s no way I can stand to wait a second longer.
