“Shitty.” He pulled two beers out of the refrigerator, handed one to Jackson and took the seat across from him. “Alec’s very close-mouthed about the whole thing, but I get the feeling things are seriously, seriously fucked up in that department.”
“My partner is remarkably close-mouthed about a lot of things.” Jackson regarded his beer for a moment. “But if there’s anyone who can help Andrew, it’s Alec. You know that better than most.”
“Yeah. Except at this point after my attack, I was still hiding in Alec’s basement, wincing at loud noises. Andrew’s…”
“Don’t feel too bad. From what I can tell, you’re the norm, not this crazy shit.”
Derek drained half his beer and slammed the bottle down on the table. “I’m not suffering a bruised ego. I’m worried about my friend.”
“Hell, I know that. There isn’t a damn thing I can say or do to reassure you, though, and you deserve to know that.”
Alec had said the same thing. “Franklin found someone to help Kat. An empath who splits his time between New Orleans and England. He’s due to be here in a few weeks, but I don’t know how to keep Kat from going nuts before then. She won’t talk to me.”
Jackson’s bottle thumped on the table. “Let me and Kenzie worry about Kat until then. Even if she could talk about it, she’s not going to burden you. Not right now. You’ve got your own shit.”
“My shit is that I can’t help any of the people I care about deal with their shit.”
“All Kat needs is time.”
“And Andrew, and Nick. Is that what they need too?”
“Do yourself a favor and focus on Kat and Andrew.” Jackson looked away. “You can’t help Nick.”
Derek closed his eyes. “Is there news?”
“Not really. Not news.” The other man’s bottle tapped rhythmically on the table. “Do you understand why she went back to New York? What she’s there to do?”
“She’s there to save her sister.” Derek didn’t open his eyes, because the tone of Jackson’s voice had shifted. Wariness, or maybe even pity. “I don’t know the details, but she’s probably never getting her life back.”
Jackson was silent for a long time. “It’s a trade. Michelle and her kid get a pass, such as it is…and Nicky gets auctioned off.”
The pain of the last week disappeared in a black hole of agony. His instincts screamed for action, for him to charge up to New York and destroy anyone who might challenge him for his woman. His mate.
His hands ached, and it was only then he realized he’d clenched them into fists so tight his fingernails were digging into his palms. It hurt to take a breath, but he managed. Speaking was worse, but he managed that too. “Anything I try to do will just make her life worse.” Please contradict me.
“I’m sorry as hell, Derek.”
If he saw sympathy in Jackson’s face he’d scream. “Don’t. She’s the one who has to…” He couldn’t even get the words out.
“Yeah, but that doesn’t mean—” The words melted into a curse, and Jackson’s chair slid back from the table. “Sometimes it hurts worse being the person on the sidelines.”
“I’m not on the sidelines. I’m not invited to the game.”
“I know. Shit.”
Torturing Jackson about it wasn’t going to do any good. Derek met Jackson’s gaze. “Andrew and I are going to be at Franklin’s clinic for the next week, helping with some construction upstairs. I don’t know what to do about Kat. She can’t come with us but I don’t think she’s ready to go back to your office yet.” Maybe if he concentrated hard enough on micromanaging Kat and Andrew’s lives… Because sticking your head in the sand has been a huge fucking success so far.
“Mackenzie would love to have her help over at the dance studio.”
“Perfect. She was so excited when Nick told her—” His voice cracked as the bottle in his hand shattered. The purely physical pain of glass shards slicing into his palm barely registered over the wave of loss. Not a human loss, either—the agony clawing inside him was animal and furious, every bit as strong as the lust that had come with Nick’s touch.
“Fuck.” Jackson’s voice sounded far away and vague. He dragged Derek to the sink and quickly rinsed his hand. “You should go see Alec,” he advised as he wrapped a clean kitchen towel around the wound.
“Alec.” Derek’s voice was hoarse, jagged, and the wolf felt too close to the surface. He shuddered and tried to find the control he’d spent two long, miserable years learning. “Kat. Kat was going to stay here.”
“Let us handle it. We’ll take her to our place.”
With Kat gone, he could let go. “Soon?”
Jackson glanced out the window over the sink. “Now.”
With Kat gone, he could fall apart.
Holding it together while Jackson rounded up Mackenzie and Kat was one of the hardest things he’d had to do in an already difficult week. But he smiled and closed his healing hand into a fist so she wouldn’t see the blood, and Kat was so locked up in her own head that she didn’t question his assurance that he’d be fine on his own.
There was no reason she should. Derek was the steady one. The responsible one who’d taken over the difficult parental role in her life when she’d still been young enough to believe parents were strong. Not immortal—she’d lost too many family members to believe that—but unshakable.
So he kissed her forehead and Mackenzie’s cheek. He ignored the worried look in the woman’s eyes as she tugged Kat toward the door. It was enough to know Kat would be safe. Jackson and Mackenzie would take care of her.
She’d be better off than him.
He listened to Jackson’s truck rumble to life in the driveway. He leaned against the door and followed the sound of the vehicle backing out and shifting gears. Within moments, the clanking rattle of the engine had faded and he was alone.
Alone. Something I’d better get used to.
It would be nice to think he wasn’t the type to indulge in self-pity, but he’d never been very good at lying to himself. The last two years of his life had been one endless self-indulgent snit as he wallowed in his misery and used his uncomfortable situation as an excuse. An excuse to avoid everything he was too afraid to face.
Like the fact he wasn’t human anymore.
Derek pushed off the door and headed to the kitchen to finish cleaning up. The cuts on his hand were almost healed, nothing but thin puckered lines that would fade to silvered scars by midnight and be gone in the morning. Not fucking human.
He’d admitted it on the surface. He’d even used it as an excuse to keep Kat trapped in bubble wrap for the last two years. She might complain and bitch and throw things at him sometimes, but he’d always held the trump card. It’s instinct. He’d see that flash of guilt in her eyes, the realization that he’d gone through hell and survived, that she could have lost the only family she had left. And she’d buckle just enough to let him protect her from the things that had happened to him.
Not that he’d done her any favors. Supernaturals lived dangerous lives. The number of their acquaintances who had been orphaned before twenty was proof enough. Believing he could keep Kat safe forever had been foolish, but instead of helping her learn how to cope with the dangers of the world she insisted she belonged in, he’d…
What did you do, Gabriel?
He’d done what he’d always done. He’d acted like that world Kat played in was a world in which neither of them belonged. He’d been born human, after all. Even after he’d recovered from the attack, he’d tried to resume his previous life, as if humanity was something he could shoehorn himself back into if he just fought hard enough.
Wasting time had cost him everything that mattered.
He blew out a breath, trying to fight the rising swell of pain. It didn’t matter. The wolf inside him grieved for a lost mate, and nothing would dull the pain but time. Alec had promised him that much, at least.