CHAPTER NINETEEN
“I caused the fire.”
I didn’t believe it for a second.
Not just because Gemma had already told me that Derek hadn’t been home when the fire started, either. I didn’t believe it because I knew Derek. I knew about the kindness under all the gruff, I knew – had experienced, even – the tender way he cared for those he considered under his wing.
But I also knew that – regardless of the truth – Derek believed what he’d said. I could tell by the tension radiating from his shoulders, the stress lines on his brow, and most heartbreakingly of all, the desolation shining from his eyes.
In that moment, I would have done absolutely anything to eradicate it. So, taking a deep breath and praying he’d forgive me when it was all over, I did just that.
“Did you douse the house with gasoline and light a match?”
My words served their intended purpose, the devastation in Derek’s eyes quickly turning into shock. “What?”
“Or, I don't know, throw alcohol on top of a hot stove?” I pressed.
He scoffed.
“Chuck a flame thrower through an open window?”
Derek’s mouth twisted, anger fast replacing the original surprise he’d felt at my line of questioning. “What the hell, Wisp? Of course not!”
“Exactly!” I agreed, raising my voice so it matched his in intensity. “Of course you didn’t! You didn’t do any of those things, or anything like them, did you?”
Derek’s jaw clenched, and he turned to face the fireplace, confirming what I already knew.
“Then I fail to see how you caused the fire.”
Derek released a bitter sort of snort. “You don't know anything,” he muttered.
“You’re right, I don’t,” I agreed lowly, knowing that he was right. “And I can’t even begin to fathom losing my entire family at the tender age of fifteen-”
Derek glanced at me, raising an eyebrow.
I shrugged sheepishly. “Gemma told me.”
“Of course she did,” he mumbled before once again sliding his gaze away. Thankfully, he didn’t sound resentful, just… resigned.
I sighed. “What I’m trying to say is, I know I don't know everything, not even close. But I do know you. And I know you’d never hurt anyone, especially not your own parents.”
Derek grimaced. “Forget about that asshole at The Tavern already?”
I frowned, Mr. Oxxford’s sneer flashing through my mind. (Had that really only happened a handful of hours ago?) “That was different,” I dismissed with a wave of my hand.
Derek didn’t deny it. I thought maybe his silence was an indication I was getting through to him, but then… “Like I said, you don't know anything.”
My shoulders slumped. “Then tell me,” I begged. I knew it was a risk, but I carefully inched over and reached for Derek’s hand, covering it with my own. “Please,” I added softly.
He tensed at the touch, but I was encouraged when instead of pulling away, he turned his hand over so that it was pressed palm to palm with mine. Interloping our fingers, he squeezed.
“It was so stupid,” he mumbled after a moment. “I was so stupid.”
I didn’t push for more information; I just squeezed his hand back and waited.
“It wasn’t easy growing up as a shifter in a human world,” he said finally, voice low and stressed. “You know when I was young, I thought that everyone was like my family. A whole world full of shifters.” He laughed, but the sound had no humor in it.
“Every kid thinks like that,” I assured him softly, rubbing my thumb over his.
He snorted. “Yeah, well, eventually my parents had to tell me that that wasn’t the case. They sat me down one day and explained that we were different from other people, special – that we could do things that normal people couldn’t.” He sighed. “They also told me that they – normal people – wouldn’t understand if they ever found out. They would be confused, scared. Some people might even try to hurt us for being what we were.” He paused. “They called those kind of people hunters.”
Hunters. My gut clenched at the word.
Derek shook his head. “I didn’t believe them when they told me about them. I mean, hunters? I understood the concept well enough, but it seemed more like a story they’d made up to scare me, like a monster under the bed – something that would make me think twice about revealing my true nature to anyone, nothing… real.”
I tried to swallow, but my mouth was dry. “Did… did hunters-?”
Did hunters start the fire?
“School was hard,” Derek interrupted, forging ahead before I could finish my question. “I never felt like I belonged there. Almost instinctively, the other students knew that something was different about me – something wrong, dangerous. I kept to myself, and most kids had enough sense to just leave me alone, but a handful of them liked to run their mouths. They even made a game out of trying to get me to react.” A muscle ticked in his jaw. “Do you know what it feels like to have some punk ass kid punch you in the mouth and having to fucking let him? To not be able to react because if you did, you could slip and kill him?”
Thane, who had fallen asleep on the floor some time ago to Derek’s low timbre, whimpered in his sleep – almost like he could sense his owner’s stress.
“Derek…” I pulled his hand into my lap, clenching at it with both hands like a lifeline. “I’m so sorry.” My eyes were hot with unshed tears.
He didn’t acknowledge the apology.
“Alice Keaton,” – the name fell from his mouth slowly – reluctantly – like it offended him to even have to say it aloud – “showed up fall of my sophomore year. She was a transfer, a junior, and most importantly of all, she didn’t seem to care that I was an outcast. She talked to me like I was a normal person, asked to borrow a pencil from me the first day of class, sat by me at lunch. I thought I had finally made a friend.” Derek snorted, his free hand coming up to rub tiredly at his eyes. “I was wrong.”
“What happened?” I asked faintly.
Derek sighed. “Alice asked me to go to this party out in the woods. It was the first time I’d ever been invited anywhere, and I leapt at the opportunity like the eager fool I was. When I got there, I could see that the “party” was more like a get-together of the biggest assholes at Pine Ridge High, but Alice was there, so I stayed. We talked for a while before she wandered off – said she had to use the bathroom or something, I don’t remember – but before she got back, I overheard her talking to Abernathy.”
I felt a spark of surprise at the familiar name. “Ash?”
I immediately regretted interrupting him – after all, I didn’t care about Ash, not like how I cared about Derek, anyway. A confused frown pulled at Derek’s mouth before his eyes cleared and he scoffed. “No, not Ash. His older brother, Jackson. Ash is an annoying asshole, but Jackson is worse. Let’s just say he’s on the opposite side of the law as his brother nowadays.”
I bit my lip. “And what were they talking about in the woods? Alice and Jackson?”
Derek’s jaw clenched. “All of it – Alice being nice to me, sitting with me at lunch – had just been another scheme to mess with me. She was Jackson’s girlfriend.” Derek’s mouth twisted like he’d tasted something sour. “She was supposed to get me to knock back a few beers, loosen me up enough so that Jackson and his cronies could land a few punches before stealing my clothes. They wanted to leave me out in the woods, naked and lost – humiliate me, basically.”
I felt sick to my stomach.
“It was juvenile bullshit. And hell, I knew the forest better than any of them, but I was so furious – at them, at myself. Especially when I heard what else they had planned.”
“There was more?” I asked incredulously, stomach still swirling with upset.
Derek nodded stiffly. “They were going to threaten me that if I told anyone what they’d done, they would accuse me of trying to rape Alice. They would claim they had just roughed me up while defending her.” Derek flashed me a sardonic grin. “Everyone knew how much I liked her, after all.”
I wanted to throw up.
“So, you see, I had to teach them a lesson – make sure they’d think twice before messing with me again.”
I swallowed. “What did you do?”
Derek shrugged. “They didn't know that alcohol hardly affects my kind, so I took the beers Alice pushed on me. I allowed her to flirt with me, and when she invited me to take my shirt off, suggested I go on a walk with her through the woods, I did. And when Jackson attempted to jump me a few minutes later, I let him – let all of them – know who – what – they were really dealing with.” Derek paused, almost like he didn’t want to tell me the next part. “I showed them my teeth, introduced them to my claws – not enough to really hurt them. I pressed them into their skin just enough to get my point across, to scare them.”
Derek didn’t have to explain himself to me. As far as I was concerned, they’d deserved it – deserved worse, actually. “Did it work?” I asked, still clinging to his hand. “Did they leave you alone after that?”
Derek stiffened. “To an extent. They didn’t bother me again, but rumors started that I was some sort of mutant freak. I didn’t care; most everyone thought Abernathy and his friends were strung out on drugs, anyway. Even when Abernathy showed people the marks I left on him, most just assumed they were caused by some sort of wild animal. I think Alice’s parents thought she was suffering a nervous break-down, though,” he added, almost as an afterthought, “because they took her out of school a week later. The rumors died down after that, disappearing almost as soon as they’d started. I thought that was the end of it.” The hand not held captive in mine was squeezing the arm of the couch so hard that Derek’s knuckles were white. “But it wasn’t. Because a week later, my house was a burnt husk of itself and my parents were dead.”
I could read between the lines enough to hear what Derek wasn’t saying. “You don't know-”
“I don't know what?” he snapped, eyes flashing as he finally turned to face me. “That hunters were responsible? Or that I didn’t lead them straight to us? What? Was it just a fucking coincidence they showed up a few weeks after I shifted in front of a bunch of loud-mouthed teenagers?”
He ripped his hand from mine, standing and starting to pace.
“Derek…” I tried weakly.
“You want to know how I know it was hunters? A little fact that the police buried, that was kept out of the local papers?” He paused, making sure he had my full attention – like I could think of anything or anyone else in a moment like this. “My parents, Abram’s fucking wife – what remained of their bodies were found bound with fucking rope. There was evidence of bullet fragments in their skulls. They didn’t perish in some accidental house fire.” He swallowed. “They were executed. Because of me.”
Tears sprung into my eyes at the despondent proclamation, but I hurriedly blinked them away. I couldn’t let Derek see how his words affected me. I had to be strong – for him. Because even if everything that Derek had said was true – even if the hunters were there because of some anger-fueled, teenaged mistake – it wasn’t Derek’s fault.
He wasn’t responsible for the fire or his parents’ deaths any more than I was, and I had to make him see that.
“What were they like?” I asked after a moment. “Your parents?”
The anger – desolation – swirling in Derek’s gaze faltered at the question. He stared unseeingly at the coffee table.
For a tense minute, it was silent save for the sounds of our breathing. After one tense minute passed and then another, Derek stiffly lowered himself back down onto the couch. “My father,” he began uneasily, like he wasn’t sure if I actually wanted to know… like he hadn’t spoken about them aloud since the fire. It broke my heart. “My father was a good man. His name was Boone, and he was always looking out for other people. He even helped police find a five-year-old who got lost in the forest once – they had no idea he used his bear senses to do it. He loved the outdoors and taught me how to hunt and fish. Mostly, though, he loved my mother.” A sad smile pulled at Derek’s mouth. “I still remember the way he looked at her, like he couldn’t believe how lucky he was.”
Derek swallowed. “My mo-ther,” his voice broke on the word, and I couldn’t take it anymore. I sprung at Derek, wrapping my arms around his neck in an unyielding embrace, just hugging him. He stiffened before his arms slowly came up to wrap around my waist, returning the embrace just as tightly.
“My mother’s name was Rose,” he started again. “She’s the one who taught me how to cook. She made homemade donuts every Sunday morning, and they were so good they were always gone by noon. She saw the good in everyone and always believed that it would shine through if people were only given the chance.” He choked on a half-laugh, half-sob. “She would have adored you. She was the warmest woman in the world apart from maybe Fiona, Abram’s wife. They were best friends.” Derek paused. “That’s why she was over that day. My mom was helping her with her baby – the kid was colicky, not even a year old yet.” He buried his head in the juncture of my neck, and I imagined he was trying as desperately not to cry as I was.
“They sound like they were wonderful people,” I said, pleased my voice didn’t come out sounding nearly as shaky as my insides felt.
A pained noise ripped itself from his throat.
“Wonderful, reasonable people,” I continued softly, “who never would have blamed you for what happened. It wasn’t your fault, Derek.”
“Don’t-” he choked, beginning to pull away.
“No!” I refused to let him, going so far as to grasp either side of his face with my hands. His stubble was rough against my palms, but his cheeks were dry. His eyes, on the other hand, were swimming. They weren’t even looking at me, but I faltered at the sight of them before hurriedly grounding myself. “You need to hear this. Please.”
He reluctantly met my gaze.
I sucked in a breath. “Even if everything you said is true,” I said slowly, carefully, “it wasn’t your fault. You can’t control what other people do, or take responsibility for their actions. You were just a kid. Just a kid doing the best you could in a crappy set of circumstances. How could you possibly know that-?”
Even as I held him in my hands, he was shaking his head. “They warned me-”
“You did not set the fire,” I said firmly.
“I should have known better-”
“You didn’t intend for-”
“I should have fucking controlled myself-”
“You did not kill them!”
Derek stilled at my sharp words, and I thought for a second that it was my hands that were trembling, but it was him. Derek was trembling.
Then, pulling me impossibly closer to him, he buried his face into my shoulder and cried.
I didn’t realize at first that that’s what he was doing. He wasn’t sobbing or heaving – in fact, he hardly made any noise at all. But I could feel my tank top slowly dampening and the irregular puffs of his warm breath against my clavicle.
I stiffened, struck dumb for a second by the realization of it, before getting myself together enough to rewrap my arms around his shoulders. I held him as tightly as I could, hesitantly bringing one hand up to run through his hair. “It wasn’t your fault, Derek,” I repeated as firmly as my quivering voice allowed. “It never was.”
I had the sickening feeling that no one had ever told him that before. After all, who did he have to talk to after his parents were gone? Derek had made it sound like his neighbor – Abram, I think he’d said was his name – was in a bad way, and as far as I knew, there were no other shifters in his life.
I couldn’t imagine living with the guilt Derek had been harboring for years. For nearly two decades, he’d thought himself responsible for his own family’s death. I knew those feelings wouldn’t go away overnight – and even now, I could tell he didn’t wholly believe me when I said it wasn’t his fault – but I had time to change that.
Time was the only thing I had. Well, time and myself. So I clung to Derek, carding my fingers through his hair and hoping that having another person so close to him – another warm, living body pressed against his – would somehow lessen the pain.
I held him until his breathing evened out, until his own grip on me began to loosen – until he sat almost completely lax under me.
“What happened after the fire?” I asked carefully after a while, not stopping the gentle motion of my fingers running through his hair.
“What do you mean?” he asked, his voice rough and groggy against the juncture of my neck.
He sounded so, so tired.
“I mean, where did you live?” I clarified. “Who did you stay with?”
Derek shrugged. “I stayed in the woods by myself.”
I froze. “What?”
“It was only a few months,” he said, like it was no big deal for a fifteen-year-old who had just lost his parents to stay in the woods by himself for months on end with no one to take care of him. “Once the debris was cleared, I built this cabin.”
I was horrified. “How could anyone have possibly allowed that? I mean, what about the police? Child protective services? Weren’t they concerned?”
Derek must have sensed the distress in my voice because he finally pulled himself away from me enough to look at me. He frowned at what he saw. “When my parents died, I applied for and was granted emancipation due to the… vastness of their estate,” he explained. “I’m sure people just assumed I was staying at a motel or something until the cabin was built. I kept going to school so no one really asked any questions. A couple old ladies attempted to bring casseroles by a few times once the cabin was built, but that was it.”
I didn't think I had ever felt so… angry in my entire life! And I didn’t understand why Derek wasn’t. His parents had died and then pretty much everyone in his life had abandoned him to his own devices – a fifteen-year-old.
“What about Abram?” I pressed. “Surely he would have taken you in?”
Derek’s mouth twisted at his name, and he outright scoffed at my suggestion. “Right. Because I hadn’t just caused his family’s death.”
“He couldn’t possibly blame you-”
“How could he not?” Derek interrupted vehemently. “I… I know you don’t think it was my fault, Wisp, but his life was stolen from him as much as mine was from me that night. And even if somehow he didn’t blame me, he gave himself over to the bear. He wanted to forget.”
I bit my lip. “Why didn’t you?” I asked quietly.
Derek shot me a disbelieving look.
“I mean, I’m thankful that you’re not a bear, of course,” I hurriedly clarified. “But if it’s easier, like you seem to think…” I trailed off.
Derek sighed, swiping a hand through his hair. “I don't know,” he admitted. “I think partly because I felt the need to punish myself.” My heart clenched. “And partly because the pain of being human made it real, made them real. I don’t even have any pictures of them – they were all destroyed in the fire. Maybe Abram has some somewhere, but there’s not much chance of him ever sharing them with me.”
I wasn’t convinced that was true. Abram hadn't seemed intent on hurting Derek at the river, after all, but I wasn’t about to argue with Derek on something he seemed intent on.
“So you’ve been alone this entire time?” I pressed.
The corner of Derek’s mouth quirked in a self-depreciating sort of way. “Not since I found Thane.” He eyed the napping dog before his eyes flitted back over to me, and he added more softly, “Not since I found you.”
I could feel my mouth form a wane sort of smile. “I’m really glad you did.”
Derek’s mouth twitched at the comment, and he tucked a piece of wayward hair behind one of my ears. “You know, I think I need to revise my original theory.”
My brow wrinkled. “What theory?”
“The one where you’re a frilly princess.”
I snorted. “Oh yeah? Let’s have it then. What am I?”
“A fucking angel.”
“Derek…” I said, pulling back, a protest on the tip of my tongue.
His grip tightened around my waist. “A fucking angel that fell from heaven to heal my bitter, debauched soul.”
I took his face firmly in my hands, a recreation of our earlier position. “I think your soul’s beautiful.”
Derek grimaced, reaching up and removing my hands from his face, but keeping them caught between us in his own hands. “How can you know all you do about me and still manage to say that so sincerely?” he asked. “Like you actually fucking believe it?”
I frowned. “Because I do.” And I would keep saying it until he believed it, too.
Derek stared, inspecting my expression like he was trying to tell if I was lying.
It was torture, in a way, being so close to him, but I seized the moment to take in his features. The stubborn tilt of his jaw, the strong slope of his nose. His red-rimmed green eyes. And his lips – a little chapped, but so, so soft looking.
“Are you going to kiss me now?” I asked, the words tumbling out of my mouth before I could even think to stop them. “Because if you don’t, I think I might explo-”
His mouth connected with mine before I could even finish the sentence. We were both still for a second before his mouth began to move slowly against mine, a sensual caress of lips and tongue.
The kiss lacked the urgency of our first, but it was significantly sweeter. It wasn’t about taking, but giving – and I could feel the way he poured his gratitude and affection into it with every nip of his teeth and flick of his tongue.
I was pretty sure I was about to explode in an entirely different way by the time he carefully pulled away.
I kept my eyes closed, resting my forehead against his as I caught my breath. “Are you going to kiss me like that again in the morning?” I asked, voice a breathy whisper. “Or will you try to convince me that this is a bad idea again?”
I needed to know so I could prepare myself for the possibility that I may never get to kiss him like that again.
Derek nudged my chin upward with his thumb, forcing me to open my eyes and look at him.
“If you’ll let me, I’ll kiss you like that every damn day for the rest of my life,” he paused, a little smirk playing at his mouth, “or whenever you finally grow some sense in that head of yours and realize for yourself that this is a bad idea, whichever comes first.”
I snorted. “Good thing that when it comes to you, I don’t seem to have a lot of sense then, huh?”
And this time, I kissed him.