Bloodlines (46 page)

Shoulders hunching in on himself, every word as calmly given, as skillfully aimed as a bullet, Jed didn’t move for a long time. He couldn’t. He’d come here for answers, for a solution, and he had one. It was simple.

He’d have to leave.

“Thank you,” Jed managed to whisper, wanting to shoot her right in the fucking face for being right. For not having another way. But he stood, back straight, jaw tight, and chin lifted. He nodded at her. “Take care of him for me.”

Turning on his heel, steps measured and precise, Jed marched back to the cabin. Knievel was still asleep on the bed, and he carefully loaded her into her carrier despite her meows of protest. He didn’t have much there, thankfully; shoving all his clothes into a bag didn’t take long. He left his maps and his weapons, his burner phone with his lists of contacts. They’d need all that in order to finish the plans for the move.

Jed was going home.

Redford almost looked happy when he stepped inside. He’d gone wolf, with a big stupid wolf grin as he turned to shut the door behind him, shaking his fur out. When he saw Jed, Redford shifted back with more ease than Jed had ever seen. Normally his change took at least a full minute. It was painful, and frankly goddamn horrible to watch.

But the shifts seemed easier now. And Jed couldn’t help hearing echoes of the Gray Lady’s words—Redford was more at ease with the wolf side of himself just from being in the pack. He’d made more progress here than Jed had ever managed to help him with.

“You wouldn’t believe how energetic wolf kids are,” Redford said, a laugh underneath his words as he tugged his jeans on. “There was a lady taking a big group of them for a run, but they all collided into me, and I wound up having to play with them for—” He paused. “Are you packing?”

His voice sounded so distant. Jed zipped up the duffel bag, hooking it over his shoulder. “I, uh, I left what you guys will need. You know who to call for transport and shit when the pack wants to do their moving, so just give them my name and they’ll treat you okay.” Jed kept his eyes on the floor, away from Redford, expression remote. “I’m taking the van. Tell princess that he’ll have to find his own ride back.”

“What?” All of the happiness just dropped right off of Redford’s face. “Jed, why are you leaving? Why are you leaving
alone
? I thought we were going to train the pack.”

Shit. This would have been so much easier to do, fuck, in a note or hieroglyphs or smoke signals or some shit. Not face to face. Not with Redford looking beautiful and worried and with that crease in his forehead that made Jed want to kiss away every line. “I gotta go, Fido,” he managed, voice breaking. “This place, this is where you belong. And I didn’t want to see it, I didn’t, but come on. Who are we foolin’?” Jed forced his lips into an aching smile. “I can’t be what you need. You should stay here. And I…. I have to go.”

He brushed past Redford, heading out the door, keys to the van clutched so tightly in his hand he could feel them cutting into his palm. Knievel was crying in her cage, nails scratching at the sides of the carrier as if to try to get out. Jed knew the feeling.

Redford followed him. “You’re leaving
me
,” he concluded. “Jed, why—where did this come from? I love you, and I know you love me. The only reason I like it here is because you’re here with me.” With two quick steps, Redford bounded his way in front of Jed, stopping him in his tracks. “Why do you have to go?”

Shoulders straight, eyes fixed somewhere over Redford’s left shoulder, Jed couldn’t help the broken little laugh that escaped. “How was that shift for you?” he asked quietly. “Didn’t seem like it hurt as much.”

“It was… okay?” Redford looked like he didn’t know if he was giving the right answer. “I mean, I think I’m getting better.”

“I think you are too.” Damn it, his voice cracked again. Jed just clenched his teeth, refusing to give in to the yawning agony starting to eat through his veins. “I think that this place is making you better. I’m not. That’s why I have to go, okay? I’ve got to give you your best chance. This is it. Not me.”

“That’s not—” Redford broke off, frustrated. “Jed, can we just sit down and talk about this? Please? I can’t think straight when you’re packed and wanting to
leave
.”

“There’s nothing to say.” He had to keep walking, he had to get the fuck out of here, because if he looked at Redford, if he had to really
look
at what he was going to be leaving, Jed didn’t know if he’d be able to stand it. “You need someone who can be there for you—”

“You’re there for me!” Redford insisted. “You’ve always been there for me.”

“I
corrupted
you.” Christ, he was not going to fucking
cry
. “I turned you into something you shouldn’t have been. You’re good, Redford, you are really,
really
fucking
good
. And I’m… not.” Jed started walking again, hitching his bag up farther on his shoulder. “You need someone who’s not going to put you in cages. Or who will keep up with you, or not get old, or, fuck, just… not me, okay? It’s never going to be me.”

“Jed.” Oh, fuck, Redford had gotten that pleading tone in his voice. Jed hated that tone, because he could usually never resist it. “Please don’t leave.” Redford was following him still, light footsteps accompanying his words. “Whatever horrible things you think you did, it’s not true. You’re just being hard on yourself. You don’t have to leave.”

Redford caught up again. Jed saw him move out of the corner of his eye as Redford reached for his arm. Redford’s fingers closed on the bandages, where the bite wound was, and Jed hissed in pain, instinctively jerking back. They both stood there, guilt flushing Redford’s face, resignation souring in Jed’s gut. “You bit me because you couldn’t even think straight,” Jed intoned quietly. “You ripped out that guy’s throat. You were covered in his blood, and you would have killed me too. You would have killed anyone who got in your way. That’s not on you, Redford. That’s not your fault. It’s mine. Instead of figuring out how to help you deal with shit, I just…. I treated you like you were me. Like you were a hardened son of a bitch instead of who you are. And I made it worse.”

“So you’re leaving me because of that?” Anybody else would have sounded angry or incredulous. Redford just looked miserable. “I never expected you to solve my problems, Jed, but—but I’m sorry I got them all over you. I’m sorry I wasn’t strong enough to solve them myself.”

Jesus fuck. Jed dropped his bag, he set Knievel’s carrier on the ground, and he turned to grasp Redford’s shoulders. “Shut up,” he spat miserably. “Jesus,
shut up
and listen to me. You are
strong
. You are… fuck, you’re perfect, you are brave and sweet and
everything
that I….” Jesus fuck, he really was crying. Goddamn it. “I am leaving because I love you.”

Jed’s voice was thick and tight, like a string pulled back almost to the breaking point. “Because everywhere I look, the facts are piling up that I’m nothing more than a pile of shit for you. You’re going to have a good life here. You’re going to figure out how to be who you are. I can’t be here for that. Wish I could. God.” Jed brushed his fingers across Redford’s cheek. “God, you have no idea how much. But you and me, that’s not good for you. So it’s time I stopped being selfish and I walked away.”

“If you love me, then you should
stay
,” Redford begged.

“It’s not that simple anymore, Fido.” Jed picked up his bag, Knievel’s cage, and made his weary way to the van. He threw his stuff inside, getting his cat settled in the front seat. “Tell the professor I’m sorry about stranding him.” Pausing, swallowing hard, Jed dared a look back over his shoulder. “Good-bye, Redford.”

“Jed,” Redford tried, but his voice broke off and it seemed like he couldn’t find any more words to say. His expression was just as effective as anything he could have said. Jed could read him like a goddamn book, and he only needed a glance to know what he was feeling. That frown was guilt, that crease at the corner of his eyes was upset, the way his eyes were wider than usual was hurt. Redford tried again. “Jed, please. Don’t leave me.”

Damn it.

It only took two steps to be there, to be cupping Redford’s cheek and to draw him in for a kiss. It was hard and desperate. Jed thought he could taste his own tears on Redford’s lips, or maybe those were Redford’s on his. It didn’t matter. He drew back, carefully neutral expression completely broken. “I’m so sorry,” he whispered, pressing his forehead to Redford’s for a moment. “I love you. God, Red, I love you so damn much.”

Which was why he had to go. Everything in Jed was fighting against it, but he wanted to do something good. To give Redford the chance he hadn’t before. So Jed turned and got in the van, refusing to look back. He started the engine and drove toward the gate. He couldn’t look back. If he did, if he caught one more sight of Redford looking so goddamn hurt, Jed didn’t know if he’d be strong enough to keep going.

There were a few wolves at the gate, part of the pack’s patrol. They let him through, and thank God no one commented on how wrecked Jed looked. He wasn’t in the mood to play nice.

The nearest town was nearly two hours out, which was enough of a drive for Jed to realize he needed alcohol. Lots and lots of fucking alcohol. He hadn’t gotten really blackout drunk since he’d met Redford, but now seemed like an excellent time to pick that habit back up. He found a little liquor store already open despite the early hour and stocked up. Jed didn’t want to start the drive back to his place just yet. The apartment was going to be covered in Redford’s things, was going to have his pillow on the bed, his clothes in the closet. Every inch of it would remind Jed that Redford was gone. So no, he was in no rush to get back there.

Instead he got himself a hotel room. It was tiny and shitty and it smelled like mold. He didn’t give a fuck. Jed locked the door, he did a sweep of the room, set up his weapons in easy to reach locations, and he started drinking.

He didn’t stop until he’d passed out, curled around an old shirt of Redford’s he’d accidentally packed with him, sobbing his damn eyes out.

Redford

R
EDFORD
RECALLED
a movie that he had once seen wherein the protagonist, upon leaving home, had abandoned his dog. While driving away, the protagonist had watched in the rearview mirror as the dog grew farther and farther away, looking back at him with pitiful hope and growing disappointment. It had been as if the dog’s expectations of the protagonist returning had vanished with every inch of distance.

Redford felt like that dog. He was sure Jed would laugh at the comparison.

He waited for half an hour. And with every minute, his hope that Jed would turn the van around and come back quickly withered.

When he eventually looked at his watch and saw how much time had passed, Redford supposed he was forced to accept the fact that Jed wasn’t going to come back. Not right now, anyway. He still held out hope that Jed would return later. Surely Jed couldn’t actually leave him forever.

“What are you doing?” With a start, Redford looked over to find Edwin standing next to him, looking off in the same direction Redford had just been pensively staring. “What’s over there?”

Over Edwin’s shoulder, Redford could see the pack moving around in the camp with a greater sense of urgency than he’d previously seen—the Gray Lady had made a decision, it seemed. A few wolves were moving from cabin to cabin, and although Redford couldn’t hear what they were saying, the scent of alarm was evident.

Jed probably knew what that decision was. He just wasn’t here to tell Redford.

“Um. Nothing,” Redford said awkwardly, his words coming out slow, like he had to spend great effort to drag them from within himself. “Jed’s gone.”

Edwin didn’t seem to feel the need to comment on that. He continued staring where Jed’s van had disappeared around the corner, shoulder to shoulder with Redford, letting the silence envelop him. It was probably the longest Redford had ever seen Edwin be still. “Do you want to tell me why?” Edwin finally asked, glancing over at Redford, shaggy blond hair falling across his eyes.

No, actually, Redford didn’t particularly want to talk about it. But he bit back the upset and replied, “I lost control and bit him, and he left.” It was a concise enough summary, even if Edwin probably wouldn’t know the context.

“Well, that seems stupid.” Edwin didn’t seem to grasp the enormity of the situation. “He knows you’re a wolf, right? If Anthony left every time I bit something I wasn’t supposed to, he’d be halfway to China by now.”

“I’m not really a wolf,” Redford said softly. He dropped his gaze from the working wolves to the grass underneath his feet. “Not like all of you.”

Another long moment of quiet. This time, Edwin was squinting up at the sky, contemplating a flight of birds streaking past them. “I wonder if they all have different-colored feathers,” he mused. “I mean, they all look kind of alike to us, though, right? They’re just all birds. We don’t know if one of them learned how to fly late or if one has the ugliest beak or if all of them have different-colored feathers. They just are birds.”