Sitting on the roses.
But it was gone.
What was left was scar tissue, and though it looked as if it were long since healed, it was still white and lumpy, the skin knotted.
“Yeah,” he said, following my gaze. “Long story. Don’t worry about it right now.” He pressed his stump against my thigh, and the roses began to bloom. They rolled through my leg and into my stomach and chest. It was warm and sweet and safe.
He sighed and shook his head. “He’s not…. We got to him in time. He isn’t my father’s. He doesn’t have a hold over Carter.”
Joe nodded. “I thought as much. I tried to repair the bonds as best I could.”
“It’ll be better once we get him back to Green Creek,” Gordo said as he stood. His knees popped. “Getting too old for this crap.” He put his hand on the back of my neck, pressing my face against his stomach. I clutched at his hips, breathing heavily. “Yeah, yeah. Good to see you too. We’re going to have a long talk. You’re up to your neck in shit, man.” He stepped away, wiping his eyes. “Fucking werewolves. You self-sacrificing assholes.” He jerked his head toward the door. “Joe. Outside.”
And then he exited the cabin without looking back.
Joe hesitated before looking to Kelly, who stood at the window looking out. “Won’t be long.”
“It’s fine,” Kelly said stiffly. “I’ll keep an eye on him. Let them know.”
I thought Joe was going to argue, but he didn’t. He said, “Go easy, all right? We don’t…. Just go easy.”
Kelly didn’t speak.
Joe kissed my forehead. “We’re gonna have so many words,” he said. “You have no idea the hurt you’re in for. And you’re gonna take it with a smile on your face.” He followed Gordo out of the cabin, closing the door behind him.
Silence fell.
I looked to Kelly.
His back was to me.
I wanted to go to him.
I didn’t move.
He said, “You found him,” and it was tight, the words strained. “Gavin.”
“He’s… yeah. I did.”
“Where is he?”
“I don’t know. With Livingstone the last time I saw him. I barely got away.”
“What happened?”
“It doesn’t matter.”
“Carter.”
I looked down at my lap. I could feel him. His anger. His hurt. It was bright and harsh, but it was real, and I didn’t know how to handle it. Not-Kelly had been a void. A black hole sucking in light. This Kelly, the real one, felt like a galaxy of stars.
“Did he hurt you?”
I winced. “Gavin didn’t. It was Livingstone.”
“What did he do?”
I didn’t want to say it. I wanted to keep it locked away. I said, “He broke my back.”