Page 23 of Hart's Redemption

How could I have fucked up so badly?

Josh

I’d never been more drained in my life. Between the numerous changes, the run, and the emotional roller coaster I couldn’t seem to get off of, I didn’t have an ounce of energy to spare. I was also ravenous, despite having eaten half a deer. A point driven home when I finally emerged from the shower to find a plate piled high with food.

The enticing aroma of rosemary beef made my mouth water and my heart ache. It was Elijah’s specialty and took hours to prepare, which meant he’d had it ready ahead of time. I struggled with uncertainty, doubt clawing at my mind like a rabid squirrel. Was it possible that Elijah genuinely cared? On a level, I knew he did—that hehad to—the bond was unshakable in that aspect.

Then why didn’t he say anything? He’s had time, plenty of opportunities before and after I turned.

His silence on the matter spoke louder than words ever would. I walked past the plate without touching it and straight into the guest room, which I promptly locked. A quick glance revealed the bed stripped bare and no visible signs of habitation beyond the comforter folded neatly on top. I shoved the used towel into the crevice beneath the door as tight as it would go, then slid onto the mattress and wrapped myself up. The overstuffed comforter did nothing to alleviate the chill in my heart.

It ‌took another few minutes before Elijah’s determined tread approached the door. The handle jumped and rattled, but remained in place. I burrowed deeper into the sole blanket and resolved to ignore it. A sudden, hard smack against the door made it vibrate in its casing.

“Damn it, Josh. You have to eat.”

My heart sank impossibly lower. He hadn’t even asked to be let in. “I can feed myself.”

“Obviously not.”

A growl slipped free at his patronizing tone. “I’m not your responsibility.”

“Josh, please. I can explain.” His shift was palpable even through the padded door. Except it was too late for explanations. He’d had his chance.

“Atlas, play playlist Delta. Full volume. Require manual override.” Angry music instantly blasted through the house, the metal squeal of guitar rivaling that of a banshee.

“Son of a badger,” Elijah cursed and immediately left to resolve the issue before the neighbors filed a noise complaint.

It wasn’t until I was positive he was gone that I finally let go of the anger propping me up. Sorrow and heartache rushed to fill the void. Thanks to the bond, I now knew without a doubt that Elijah loved me. I also knew that he didn’t want to. He’d made his resentment of the bond clear from the moment he discovered it. That, plus his words in the woods, only solidified what I’d always known but had hoped wouldn’t be true. Elijah would never want me the way I wanted him.

I fought in vain against a fresh tide of body-wracking sobs. Snot mixed with salty tears in a wretched mess I was powerless to stop. Not even advanced healing seemed capable of keeping up with the pain tearing through my sides with each desperate heave of air. What I thought was heartbreak as a human fell woefully short of the agony claiming my body now. My mate didn’t want me. He never had. I wrapped myself tighter in the blanket, seeking ‌warmth it could never provide.

Chapter 8

Elijah

Joshwasnevercomingout. I briefly debated talking to him through the door, but feared it would turn into a shouting match. Also, I wanted to talk to him face to face. I was done with the barriers between us.

And yet, you put one there.

It might not have been so fucking bad if he’d actually let me explain.

I stood at the end of the hall and glanced at the closed door. The food remained untouched, but at some point he’d taken the clothes I’d left. Leery of being the reason he refused to come out, I wandered aimlessly into the kitchen. What had happened to my grand plans to welcome him home? Having him back hadbeen all I’d dreamed about for months, and he felt farther away than ever. And it wasmyfault. I hadn’t done it on purpose, but I’d done it just the same.

I’d let my worry that being moonstruck would somehow hamper his ability to enjoy being a werewolf. Perhaps on some level I still believed he hated my kind and would resent being one. Except he’d been absolutely perfect. He’d let go and soaked up every drop of moonlight, every scent, every sound. Frankly, I was impressed by how he’d taken to it like a… well, like a wolf to the woods. Josh had even tried to play, not that I’d been much fun in my constant state of worry that he’d hare off and never come back.

I leaned against the counter and stared up at the white ceiling. Maybe I needed to talk to Kotori. Find some way to reconcile my fears with the trauma I’d witnessed in Josh’s mind. Knowing the depths of the horrors he’d endured, I was terrified of causing him any more pain. I didn’t want to be part of that ever. But when Josh looked at me, his green eyes filled with hurt, all I could see was the little boy who’d tried so hard to stand up to his fears only to be struck down.

My chest convulsed with the effort of holding myself together. I was way out of my depth. I’d thought forgiving Josh’s horrible betrayal of secretly being a fucking Harker would be the hardest thing I would ever have to do, but it paled compared to my current predicament, and I only had myself to blame.

My gaze wandered back to the guest room door through the opening arch of the kitchen. Still closed. I contemplated breaking into the room through the window, then promptly dismissed the idea. The last thing I wanted to do was spook him and get one or both of us killed. It didn’t take a genius to realize Josh’s emotions were unstable, and I knew for a fact he didn’t have the energy to change again, certainly not while he was refusing to eat.

I glared at the plate of food that I’d spent hours preparing in anticipation of him finally coming home. It was tempting to remove the damn thing in order to force him out or starve, but I suspected Josh would choose to starve. With a defeated sigh, I finally gave up. No amount of staring at that door was going to make it open. I trudged over to the couch, not even glancing at the master bedroom. My back already ached at the thought of spending another night on the miserable thing, but I’d be damned if Josh emerged and I missed it.

Three days later, nothing had changed. He had to have come out of the guest room at some point because food from the fridge was gone, though noticeably not so much as a scrap from the roast I’d made, as well as a delivery for him which I’d set on the dining table. What I couldn’t figure out was how I kept missing him. The only thing I was certain of was that he hadn’t left the cottage.

Finally, I did the only thing I could think of: I called Dr. Lyons. To my surprise, when she answered, her response wasn’t the jovial one I’d become accustomed to.

“Good day, Dr. Bennett. How can I help you?” Her professional tone put me on edge, but I couldn’t back down now.