Old Dog, New Tricks (5 page)

“She told me you had been taking extra cases, dangerous cases, so you could send money to my account.” She traced the blood rush from my cheeks. “Seeing your face now... I can’t believe I let things get this bad between us. That you felt you owed me— I’m sorry, baby. So sorry.”

I dropped my head into my hands. “I can’t believe this.”

“I didn’t know what to do, how to fix this.” She stroked a hand down my spine. “I didn’t want to make things worse between us by rejecting the money outright when it was obvious it meant a lot to you to care for me, and I thought you would burn out in a couple of months and then we could talk.”

I slid my fingers through my hair, across my scalp and tugged. “Can
not
believe this.”

The mattress shifted and a zipper sounded. “This is yours.”

I didn’t glance up or reach out. I couldn’t process. I sat there feeling like a total idiot.

Untangling my fingers from my hair, Mom lowered my arms and placed a check into my hands.

The number registered, and my heart flip-flopped. I had never held the promise of so much money in my entire life. Mable had dug into Mom’s finances for me, and she was the one to give me the figure always lurking in the back of my mind, the one that matched what her support payments had been. Once I checked that figure off my to-do list, the rest was gravy until the clock restarted at the beginning of the next month.

This was my first time seeing the big picture, and it was a
big
picture.

“I can’t accept this.” I slapped it back into her palm. “How are you going to support yourself?”

She leaned over and wedged the rectangle of paper between two bottles of lotion on my dresser. When she turned back to me, she was smiling. “I’ve been supporting myself just fine the past year.”

“Oh.” Yeah, I guess she had if she could afford to pay me back.

“I had a decent nest egg before things...” Her thought trailed unfinished. “I’ve added to it over the years. I wanted to be prepared in case the conclave relocated us again and wasn’t as generous about it.”

“You work part-time at the animal shelter.”

“I used to.” A grin tugged at her lips. “I took an administrative position a year and a half ago.”

My mouth did that fish-out-of-water thing again. “You never said.”

“I was waiting until you graduated marshal academy so we could celebrate together.” She patted my hand. “I hadn’t counted on you going straight into the field. By the time we got together, you and Jackson were on the outs. It wasn’t a good time for me to share my news. Not when you were hurting so much.”

The days after my final exam at the marshal academy had been spent propped up in a bed in the medical ward. I never told her about the accident that shattered my hip and broke my ankles. In fact, I had avoided her for weeks until I was back at one hundred percent. So yeah, by the time I got around to visiting her again, Shaw and I had split, and all I wanted were sundaes and hugs from my momma.

“We really suck at this communication thing.” Talk about an understatement.

“Yes, we do.”

I studied her. “I want to know about the important things in your life.”

“I want to know yours too.” She stuck out her hand. “No more secrets. Deal?”

I hesitated. “Do you mean going forward, or are we talking backdated here?”

“Thierry.” She sighed my name on a pained gust of breath.

“A lot happened on my trip to Faerie.” I took her hand. “Do you want the details?”

A tiny flicker of uncertainty crossed her features, but she blinked it away. “Tell me everything.”

So I did. All of it. The whole truth. I left nothing out.

Mom was still digesting the story of my life post marshal academy, including her vacation to Faerie, when firm knocks at the door earned our attention. A shiver of unease rippled down my spine, and I rose onto my feet, positioning myself between her and the door. I placed a finger in front of my lips, and she nodded in understanding.

Reaching deep, I drew power into my left palm before calling, “Come in.”

The door eased open, and the burnt scent of charged magic followed.

In the time it took my eyes to adjust from the overhead light to the darkened living room, a man stepped into my bedroom uninvited. Golden-skinned with pale blond hair bound at his nape, the sidhe noble took in my room, my mother and me with a single sweep of his lapis-blue eyes.

“Evander,” I greeted him, not dousing the green light spilling from my fingertips.

Eyes on my wrist, he tilted his head. I got the uncomfortable feeling he was noticing the pattern of my runes, tracking their progress toward my elbow. They used to stop at my wrist. But ever since my trip to Faerie and my altercation with Balamohan, the mystical markings were claiming new real estate on my body. I hadn’t worked up the nerve to ask Mac what it meant for me, but I had my own ideas. The prevalent theory was the more powerful I became, the more my magic use branded me.

The puzzling thing was Mac only had runes on his left hand—identical to the placement of my original set. So either I had guessed wrong, or he was hiding something. I chuckled under my breath.

Yeah. Wonder which of those two possibilities was more likely.

“I knocked,” he said by way of greeting. “No one answered.”

“No problem.” The slow burn of anger simmering under my skin was cut by an icy blast of fear. “What brings you here?”

With a knowing glint in his eyes, he announced, “We have reached a decision.”

We,
as in the gathering of magistrates busy determining my fate.

“Okay.” I knew better than to hope he would give me a heads-up as to the verdict.

“Your father’s voice was the determining factor. Recording his vote is merely a formality.”

“All right.” No clue what he meant there. “I’ll change and meet you with Mac at the office.”

“Please do.”

Astringent magic scoured my nose, then he was gone. I pulled out my cell and sent a quick text.

“Thierry?”

I glanced over my shoulder at Mom. “Hmm?”

She pushed to her feet. “If they decide to send you back, how soon will you leave?”

I pocketed my phone. “Tonight. Tomorrow at the latest.”

“And your father...” she swallowed, “...he’s leaving too?”

My heart lurched when her eyes went blurry. “He didn’t tell you?”

Mom ducked her head as a sigh shuddered from her lungs.

Please don’t cry. Please don’t cry.

A single, hiccupped sob escaped her before she clamped a hand over her mouth.

I decided right then if this mission didn’t kill Mac, I just might have to.

Chapter Five

––––––––

M
ac’s errand lasted long enough for me to change into a pair of mostly unwrinkled khakis, a clean white blouse, black polka dot cardigan and the black flats I snitched from Mai’s closet before he arrived. I combed my hair and pulled it back in a bun then checked myself out in the mirror. Still tall. Still pale. Still Mac’s mini-me with deep green eyes and inky black hair.

A quick twirl verified all my bases were covered and then I was out the door.

I bumped into Shaw, who had taken up position outside my bedroom after learning of Evander’s visit. He was kind of snarly. A little mad. It was pretty hot, actually.

I walked my fingers across his collarbone. “Where are the ’rents?”

He jerked his chin toward the door across from mine. “Holed up in Mai’s room.”

“They’re not...um...” I waffled my hand. “Wait. No. Don’t tell me.”

Shaw wrapped a warm palm around the back of my neck. “Agnes was loaded for bear.”

Meaning Mom was pissed.

“Serves him right.” I shook my head. “Mac didn’t tell her he was leaving.”

Wariness pinched Shaw’s features. “She wants him to stay?”

“It looks that way.” I shrugged. “No accounting for taste.”

“We need to get moving.” His hand tightened, fingers digging into my nape as he drew me closer. Shaw lowered his head, and his soft lips feathered over mine. “The magistrates are expecting us. Don’t want to be late.”

“Not my fault,” I murmured against his mouth. “I was accosted outside my bedroom.”

He nipped my bottom lip. “I don’t hear any complaints.”

“I’m working up to it.”

“Mmm-hmm.” He reared back and knocked on Mai’s door. “Time to go.”

The door swung open under his knuckles, and he rocked back, taking me with him as my mother darted from the room, eyes red and swollen. Mac prowled after her with a determined set to his jaw. I let her escape through the front door before I caught him by the sleeve, which wouldn’t have stopped him if he hadn’t let it. “You need to back off. Let Mom calm down before you go sniffing after her.”

His eyes narrowed, probably at the sniffing comment. “I must speak to her.”

I raised my hand. “You’ve had three days to tell her you were leaving.”

Quiet anger crackled in his voice. “I never expected to be welcomed here again. If I had told her I was leaving, she would have shut me out. I didn’t want her to be hurt. I wanted to see her...happy.”

Understanding crept in and sanded the hard edges from my reprimand. “It was selfish, Mac. You wanted to see her at her best, I get that. I like seeing her happy too. But now it’s over. You’re going to leave her—
again
—and this time she’s got nothing to show for it. She’s hurting. She...loves you.”

His nod was sharp. “She’s my mate.”

Shock buckled my knees. If Shaw hadn’t caught me, I would have face-planted onto the cow-skull-shaped area rug and choked to death on the dust bunnies.

“So...” I let Shaw hold me upright. “You’re saying you love her too?”

His brows sloped downward. “You have to ask?”

“Um, considering the whole abandonment thing,
yes
.”

“Life is too short not to tell the people who matter that you love them,” Shaw interjected.

A spark of understanding lit Macsen’s eyes. “You told him you love him.”

I blinked at him. “What?”

“Your mate.” Macsen stabbed the air where Shaw stood. “You tell him you love him.”

“Yes.” I drew out the word. “Several times a day.”

What? We were still in our honeymoon period.

“I didn’t know I was supposed to do that.” Mac glared at us like it was somehow our fault. “She has never said she loves me. She would know that was the proper custom. Why didn’t she tell me?”

“That’s not how it works,” Shaw answered for me. “We have to say it first.”

“The male goes first?” He darted a glance at the door. “I will go say it now.”

My lips parted as I reached for him, but Shaw clamped a hand over my mouth and held me still.

“Go on,” he said to Macsen, holding me while I squirmed. “Make it quick, though. The magistrates are waiting.”

Mac strode from the room, sparks lighting his palm.

I sank my teeth into the meat of Shaw’s palm, threw my elbow into his gut and ducked under his arm. A spin on the ball of my foot had me facing him in time to catch his
whuff
of breath and a spark of white frosting his pupils.

“They’re both adults,” he rumbled. “Let them handle this on their own.”

I growled, “He’s going to hurt her again.”

“She’s a big girl.” He rubbed his side. “She knew what to expect from him.”

“He should have told her.”

“He should have.”

I anchored my hands at my hips. “I’m not fighting with you about this.”

His lips twitched. “Could have fooled me.”

“It’s just that I’m leaving—
we
’re leaving—and I don’t know if I’ll... If you and me...” I set my jaw. “I wanted her to be in a good place when I got the call. Crying over her ex is not a good place.”

He hooked his thumbs into his back pockets. “Did you tell her where we’re going?”

“Yes.”

“Did you tell her why we’re going?”

I hesitated. “Yes.”

Nodding, he lowered the hammer. “Did you tell her we might not make it back?”

I mashed my lips together until they tingled.

“You wanted to leave on a high note. So when you looked back at this goodbye, if that’s what it turns out to be, you had no regrets. No memory of her fear or doubt or pain. I’m not saying what you did was wrong.” He blew out a harsh breath. “I’m not saying what Mac did was right. All I’m saying is you both wanted the same thing and went about getting it the same way. Be honest with yourself.”

“Fine. You made your point.” My arms fell to my sides. “We’ll let them sort it out on their own.”

And if they couldn’t, well, ten dollars would buy me a shovel and I had a Sharpie to write Mac’s name on it.

––––––––

A
fter thirty minutes ticked past and neither of my parents returned to the apartment, Shaw and I made an executive decision and left for the marshal’s office without them. A ball of worry tightened my gut. Not fear for Mom, exactly. I knew Mac wouldn’t hurt her. But if this was it, I wouldn’t get a second chance to say goodbye. The magistrates would expect Mac, Shaw and me to head out immediately.

And if things went south in Faerie, I wanted all my loose ends tied up in a bow here.

Shaw leaned forward and killed the radio in his truck. “Agnes is fine.”

I toyed with my seat belt so the strap wouldn’t saw off my head. “I know.”

“She’ll be there. She wouldn’t miss her chance to send you off right.” He rested a hand on my thigh. “Don’t worry.”

I popped his fingers when they ventured into zipper territory. “What are you, a mind reader?”

“That or you’ve been muttering
come on, Mom
under your breath since we left.”

“Oh.”

Shaw flipped on his blinker and turned the wheel. The orange lights illuminated his face and his tight expression. The truck bounced hard once then the tires dug in and spun loose gravel. Careful of potholes, he navigated the familiar road leading to the charmingly dilapidated farmhouse the marshal program called home. Behind it hundreds of acres of dried cornstalks bent and swayed in the breeze.

Moonlight spilled over the pitched tin roof, glinting off the sparse patches where rust hadn’t eaten through the metal. The structure stood two stories tall with white clapboard siding sliding down the walls and teal shutters hanging on by the determination of corroded hinges. Busted slats gave them gap-toothed grins that smiled at us in welcome. The stairs leading up to the front porch were missing boards, and the dentil molding could use a good flossing to clean out the abandoned birds’ nests blackening the gaps.