Chapter Thirty-Two

Kal

“I’ve never seen you like this,” Tristan remarked.

Reaching out, I grabbed him in a headlock out of reflex. “Like what?”

“Nervous,” he laughed, and I gave him a light noogie. “And barely keeping your cool.”

Letting him go with a slight shove, I shook my head and didn't answer. Rett and Luke were standing off on either side of the trail home with shit-eating grins and plenty of things to heckle me about. These three idiots had followed me from our meeting with Xander, a week and a half out from the Unseen attack. Not to talk strategy or about Winfyre, but to give me hell about mates and make all kinds of inappropriate comments.

“Go home,” I bellowed as I heard them yell again and turned. “I’m gonna kick your asses in a second.”

“Kallen.”

I turned and saw my mother coming down the trail. Howls of laughter echoed up, and I turned again, but a black bear, tiger, and wolf were loping off, snapping at each other.

“Sorry, Ma,” I said and looked up at her. “Wait, is Iris alone?”

“I knew you were coming,” she said and smiled at me. “She’s fine.”

“I know, it’s…” I didn’t know how to explain that it wasn’t just Iris’s safety but her shyness and loneliness that weighed on my heart. “Thank you.”

“Of course,” my mother said. “So, have you told her yet?” I shook my head, trying not to show my confusion, but my mother was good at calling my bluff. “I know. Yana told me. And your cousin. And I knew something was up.” I gaped at her. “Why pretend, though, when it’s clearly not?”

“Long story,” I muttered, and my mother raised an eyebrow. “Fine. I didn’t know at first.” My mother said nothing, just looked at me. “I didn’t want to admit it, and I was…afraid.” I bit out the last word so low and harshly, it was a wonder my mother could hear it. “Now we’re in limbo.”

“Kallen, tell her,” my mother said. “The longer you delay, the harder it will get.”

I nodded, rubbing my face and trying not to think too hard about the fact that my mother was giving me romantic advice. She seemed to pick up on that because she laughed and kissed my forehead.

“You are so like your father. He was so shy and nervous around me, all six feet and five inches of him, dropping stuff and second-guessing himself. Finally, I told him.” Her smile was curvy and delighted, her eyes distant. “He was so shocked, he laughed. And I liked to give him a hard time about beating him to it.” She patted my cheek. “You’re also my son, and we’re sore losers. Tell her.”

Over the next few days, I tried to. But there was always something calling my attention away, or the moment seemed to slip by. Beylore had left the explanation of the healing to me, too. Something else I needed to tell her.

Not sure how Iris was going to feel about my traipsing around her mind.

Meanwhile, I was losing my own.

Every accidental brush against each other, every time Iris lifted her eyes to mine and made that faux-serious face where she nodded, every time she sighed and smiled, every time she said my name…that last one, especially. No matter the intonation, it made my heart leap, even if Iris was scowling or trying to use my full name for emphasis.

Several days later, my sanity was hanging on by a thread. I’d had a dream about her standing in that treehouse and looking at her bare back in the mirror. Only this time, somehow, the treehouse was here, and…even the ice-cold shower didn’t calm me down.

Worse, I got called out early that morning and didn’t see her all day. And because it was last minute, no one could go and stay with her. I was chomping at the bit to get home all day.

However, Iris was asleep by the time I did so.

Standing outside her door, I could tell she was sleeping. I wondered if she’d unpacked or if she was still furious that I’d taken matters into my own hands. What was supposed to be a sweet gesture had ended up looking like the obstinate move of a blockheaded asshole.

Not a lovesick bear who could only pray his mate liked him an iota after the shit he'd pulled.

 

Coming downstairs a few days later, I was happy to see Iris was up first. About to make a light comment, I noticed the slump of her shoulders and the way her feet dragged.

“Are you sick?” I was already across the kitchen and lifting her chin to mine. Shadowed eyes, pale and clammy skin. “Iris, here, let me.” I took the kettle from her without protest. “Do you need me to call Rogda?”

She shook her head and rubbed her face, then gave me a small smile. “No, I’m tired. I didn’t sleep well.” Placing the kettle down forcefully, as nerves crawled under my skin, I saw that Iris must have sensed my alarm. “Kal, there’s nothing you can do. Probably getting a cold.”

“Yes, there is,” I said. “Soup and tea, and you go rest.”

“All right.”

Her small, concise agreement unnerved me, as did the lethargy in her movements. Usually, Iris was as bright and fluttery as a bee. Now she was a tired little ghost, sad and withdrawn.

This continued all day, with Iris napping and barely eating. She tried gallantly to smile and talk when I was around, but she was also distant. Her soul was elsewhere.

Waking up the next day, I realized Iris wasn’t in the house.

I shot to my feet and stumbled downstairs, throwing on boots and a jacket, before running outside. Her trail was easy to find, and it led me to a rock outcropping. My spot. She’d found it.

Iris was leaning heavily against one of the rocks, a hand over her face, and her shoulders shaking. It was an old grief, one of loss and a life forever changed. More than anything, I wanted to go to her and comfort her, but not if she didn’t want me here.

I went to draw back when she lifted her face, mopping it with her sleeve, and caught a glimpse of me. The sight of Iris against a pale dawn, the stark winter woods, and her tearstained face broke my heart. My own eyes stung, and I came forward, clumsy and hands out.

“Kal, oh,” Iris said and wiped at her face. “No, I’m fine.”

“You’re not,” I said and drew her into a hug, tucking her face into my neck. “And you don’t have to be.” Running my hand over her hair and in circles on her back, I murmured, “I’ve got you.”

Iris let out a ragged sob, suddenly, and another, her arms going inside my jacket and around my midriff. She held on tightly, fingers digging in and pressing into me. Everything shook, and I wished I could do something more. Helplessness came over me, so I held her more tightly.

“I’m here,” I heard myself say. “I’ll always be here, I promise, Iris.”

“You don’t have to…” Iris said in a broken voice. “Done more than enough.”

“I want to,” I said and gave her a shake. “I would do anything for you.” My voice cracked. “Ask. Ask me anything. What can I do?”

“Don’t let go,” Iris whispered. “Not yet.”

How about never?

I held her as the sun rose, and her sobs grew easier. Finally, her body language began to change and tense up. I knew she was embarrassed.

“Kal, I…”

Swinging her up, I said nothing, only brought her home with the intention of getting her warm. Only inside the house did I tell her to take her boots off and wipe off her face. But not to leave my sight, or I’d track her down again. Iris looked a little shell-shocked, but there’d been a glimmer of amusement at that.

Once I got a fire going and got her some water, I sat down and shrugged out of my damp flannel, glad I’d worn a shirt underneath it. Fluffing up a pillow, I laid it on my lap and then snaked an arm around Iris’s waist, pulling her to me. She curled up without a word.

Dressed in a thin excuse for a shirt and leggings, Iris was cold to the touch, and tense. Everything was knotted into a ball. I nudged her over a little and began to rub her back, the other hand working out the knots at her shoulder.

“Kal—”

“Am I hurting you?”

“No,” Iris said and sat up, pushing her hair back. “This is too much. This is…”

"I forget," I said, and my voice shook slightly. "It's on me, Iris. I forget that you've lost people, too, and that you know…" I rubbed at my own chest. "How that ache can come and go. Sometimes it's so bad, you think it will tear you apart from the inside out." I reached out and tried to brush away her tears. "For someone who can't lie when it comes to this shit, you've got me beat. You can carry on, lighthearted and happy, focusing on the good.” My hand cupped her cheek. “First time I laid eyes on you…first time, I knew, I sensed that you had some steel in you, woman.”

“Oh, Kal,” Iris said, and she closed her eyes, tears falling fast.

“Cry as much as you want, Iris,” I said. “I’ll be here. All day, all night.” Her fingers found my shirt as she fell forward, and I caught her against me. “Let me catch you.”

Her body sagged against me, and Iris let herself weep until she fell asleep in my arms.

 

When Iris woke up, she thought I was asleep and tried to make a run for it. But I had her snugly against me, and I patted her head, shaking my own.

“Tell me,” I said in a soft voice and opened my eyes. Sitting up a bit, I loosened my grip and let my hands slide down to her wrists. “I should have known before now. I’m sorry.”

Iris swiped at her swollen eyes. “Ugh, you have to stop saying things like that.”

With a sad, shaking breath, she related her past to me, and I listened, heart aching. Losing my dad had broken some piece of me that could never heal. But Iris had lost everything.

“I would’ve liked your brother,” I said sometime later, after we'd talked. “And your mom. That’s where you get your wild side from, huh?” She laughed lightly. “But damn, Iris.”

“They’d have liked you,” she murmured.

“And we’ll try to find out about your friend, Tiani,” I said. Her dearest, closest friend, who might be missing, and Iris’s conflict because she didn’t want to bother us. “We’ll find her.”

The two of them had been in the same foster home during the last of their teenage years. A better home than the one that Iris had initially been placed in, but a stay that was all too short. After that, Iris and Tiani had been roommates, sticking together all through college and the Rift.

“Thank you.” Iris took a deep breath, looking lighter for having told me everything, and touched my hand. “And thank you for listening. Someday, I’d like to hear more about your dad and Brody.” Her eyes were clearer, and the flush had left her face. “When you’re ready.”

"Brody's story is not mine to tell," I said. "But it was hard." Then I told her as much as I could—the good memories, ones I hadn’t visited in years, except in dreams. About how he'd been the one to rally us after the Rift and help us realize the potential of Winfyre. How his loss had hit us so hard we couldn't even speak of him during those first years, and we still had to keep a lot of the details under lock. "It's not easier, but…"

Then I told her about my dad, letting Iris in to places I hadn’t even realized were so deep and locked away that it almost hurt to think of them. Parts of me that no one else had seen or would ever know. Her hands curled around my forearm as I spoke, my head leaning on my other hand and my eyes closed. How I still remembered the sound my mom had made when she answered the phone. The fear it had rent in my twelve-year-old heart as Mom began to cry. Cry so badly that Corinna cried, and I’d picked up my baby sister without hesitation, rocking her. Then called my Auntie Ellie.

The dull, dreary days that had passed when I'd go outside and see other kids with their dads. The anger at a violent world. And the loss too big for young shoulders.

But then, as I finished, my voice ragged and pained, wondering why I was telling her this when she had enough heartache, Iris slid her arms around my neck and laid her head on my chest. I pulled her against me so that she was sitting on one of my legs, one hand on her lower back and the other in her hair. We said nothing. My heart was lighter if a bit raw.

“Little easier if you’re not alone,” Iris said.

Resting my cheek on her curls, inhaling her sweet fragrance, I nodded. I knew my thumb was rubbing a spot under her ear and I should stop, but I couldn't. This was the comfort I'd avoided and denied myself for years, as had Iris.

“How is it I was trying to make you feel better, and you made me feel better?” I asked gruffly. Iris laughed and snuggled against me, her cheek resting on my shoulder. “Thank you.”

At some point, we got up, stretched, and ate, a little quiet and awkward. But Iris came up next to me as I got water and slipped an arm around me, her head on my chest. We understood each other, at least.

Or maybe at last.