Page 85 of Lavender and Lightning

“Jason is perfectly capable of handling himself, sweetness. If you tell him what your mother said—”

“No!” I shout, my shoulders heaving up around my ears as I breathe harder.

I’m trouble for this pack. What I need isn’t worth the risk. I’m not worth the risk.

“Lydia…” Rhett whispers, his voice trailing off.

“I’m… done. If what I need isn’t worth it to you, then that’s fine. I can handle it myself,” I drone, staring at a knot in one of the planks on the floor.

When I turn and walk down the stairs to my room, I expect one of them, any of them, to follow me. I’m prepared to fight my way past someone standing outside of my door after I hastily pack some clothes in my backpack. But no one is on the other side when I emerge. And no one stops me as I take the keys to Lucas’s muscle car, start the engine, and drive away.

thirty-six

Mateo

Foralongtime,no one speaks. No one moves. No one breathes. The grandfather clock in the other room runs out of power, its ticking fading into silence. And the roar of an engine, the scrape of tires on gravel, pierces through my head. I move in jerking steps, making it to the front door in time to watch the rear end of Lucas’s car disappearing around the bend in the road. She’s gone. She left. She…

“GET THE FUCK OUT OF MY WAY, LUCAS!”

I spin at Rhett’s roar, slamming the front door closed as I head back to the sitting room. Lex is still at the window, staring at her coffee like she’s waiting for a message to suddenly appear, not even blinking as tears pool along the edges of her lashes. Rhett and Lucas are chest to chest in the kitchen, Rhett’s face twisted in rage and something else. It takes a moment for the burning newsprint scented fear to hit me, and I cough at the chemical taste coating the back of my throat.

“After the bullshit you just pulled, I think the fuck not, Rhett Cooper,” Lucas is shouting back.

Lucas doesn’t train with Rhett and me on any sort of regular basis, so when he raises his hands and pushes Rhett hard enough to send him stumbling backwards, I blink in surprise at the display of strength. Rhett tries to advance again, but stops, clutching his chest and pulling at the fabric of his shirt. He sways precariously, his next inhale more of a wheeze.

“She’s—we can’t let her—she’ll get hurt. I can’t—”

Rhett’s words come out around labored breathing, and I watch as he moves this way and that, stumbling more than walking until he collapses on the floor, pulling at his hair, wiping his face, all the while looking around, searching but not finding what he needs.

“She’s going to die. I can’t let her. She’s—not again. Not again. Not again.”

My mind switches into overdrive, and I drop down next to my best friend, gathering him against my chest. I start to purr on instinct, trying to soothe his panic like I would try to soothe Lydia’s, but it doesn’t seem to help. He’s shaking hard enough to rattle my teeth, but I only hold him tighter.

“It’s okay, Rhett. You’re okay. No one’s going to die,” I mutter, rubbing his back.

“She’s tired. She’s upset. She’s—I have to—I can’t let her—”

“You can, and you will,” Lucas says, dropping down beside us.

Rhett looks up, and the conflict is clear in his eyes, the shift from panic to violence, to fear. All of my usual techniques for helping Lydia are failing me, because I can’t identify the source of this fear in him. I can’t talk it away, explain how it’s not true, that there’s nothing to fear or worry about. I look at Lucas in question, but the beta only has eyes for his alpha right now.

“If I were a betting man, I’d put every penny in my savings account on her going to Wickland House. We can call in a few minutes, see if she got there safe,” Lucas tells him calmly.

“She can’t go there. She’ll go through Decatur and Garrison if she goes to Wickland House. She can’t—what if…”

It hits me like a sucker punch to the jaw as he namesthatintersection. The night before Lydia’s birthday, I’d tried to convince her to stay. We all had. But she wanted to go back to her apartment, because she still had to work a half day before she would spend that weekend with us. I’d gone to bed, knowing I had to get up early, so I could get to the store and pick up the last-minute details Lucas and I needed for her surprise party. But shortly after midnight, I was dragged out of bed so we could go to the hospital and wait to find out if Lydia was alive or dead.

It never occurred to me to think about the details of that night, at least not after we got the all-clear on Lydia’s condition. But Rhett and Lucas had been up with her. Rhett had been the one to get the call from Everton PD. Had he also been the last one to see her before she left?

“You put her in the car that night,” I rasp, not caring that I cut across whatever Lucas had been saying.

Rhett and Lucas both look at me, confused, but I can only shake my head. So much of the last few weeks makes sense. Rhett’s obsession with keeping Lydia safe, on making sure someone has eyes on her at all times. His insistence that she never get behind the wheel, even though the doctor cleared her to drive a while ago. The pain in Rhett’s eyes confirms it. He’s blamed himself for Lydia’s accident, and watching her walk out today, when she’s tired and upset, and knowing she’s going to be driving on those same streets has broken something in him.

“Luc is right. We can’t go after her,” Lex says faintly.

All of us turn to look at her, still not getting up from where we’re kneeling on the floor. She’s at least stopped looking at her coffee, but now she’s staring out the picture window into the middle distance. I try to find what she’s looking at, but there’s nothing remarkable out there.

“You’re just going to let her go? Just like that?” Rhett snaps, and I’m more than a little relieved to hear the fight back in his voice.

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