242 Grace: Unbalanced
He’s shown me loyalty.
Eventually…
And apparently, I’m starting to become a little desensitized myself.
[GRACE HARPER: Are you watching me?]
Well. One day it wasn’t like that anymore. I just can’t really pinpoint the time it changed.
My fingers tap against the display as I frown at Andrew’s profile, barely registering him pulling into a parking space. He doesn’t even look my way.
…
apparently Caeriel, Andrew, and Caine all go to the same school of terse answers.
Then he pauses, sympathy fading from his face as his lips quirk into a grin. “Well, maybe not you. Rogue wolves are still shifters.”
He’s helped me out several times.
But first, I need to find Jebediah Wulfric’s grave.
History lesson aside, the first alpha is buried in this very cemetery. It’s clear Caeriel’s giving me a hint on what to look for.
“What?”
There was a time he would say, “Well, if you don’t want to order anything, we don’t have to eat there.”
Andrew hesitates, frowning at me for a long time. It’s not the I’m–mad–at–you kind, but like he’s thinking things through. Maybe he, too, is remembering the times we were there together, and how I rarely ordered anything for myself.
I stare at the message with a frown. He’s not being weird or cryptic; I recognize the name, of course. It’s the first alpha of the Blue Mountain Pack, the one who brought his people here and fought and bled for his new territory. I might not remember the packs here before the Blue Mountain Pack, but I definitely remember the name Jebediah Wulfric, the first alpha to claim the territory.
08:30
<
242 Grace: Unbalanced
Andrew rests both hands on the wheel, staring out the windshield. “Peaceful? I
suppose. We’re in a time of unprecedented peace in the area, something we haven’t seen since the First Alpha’s age. At least, that’s what they say.”
Every time, I would insist he eat, because he was tired and worked hard.
[GRACE HARPER: How?]
“Nothing.” Tap, tap, tippity tap.
It’s equally clear he’s watching my every move from somewhere.
[CAERIEL: With my eyes.]
Or there’s some sort of creepy GPS–slash–surveillance going on with the App, which is… mm, not particularly reassuring.
After about twenty feet or so, I pause and glance behind me, somehow unsurprised to see Andrew hasn’t left the car. He’s watching me, though, and waves through the
window.
Locked memories are banging on the door, insisting on coming out to play, but I have no interest in entertaining them. They already came out without warning the other day, and I have no interest in another visit.
So fucking helpful. I roll mine, secretly hoping Lyre shows up and kicks his ass. Too bad this is all supposed to be all Secrety Secrets, because I bet Caine would do it just on a whim. It’s not like he’s opposed to violence…
I point half–heartedly at the cemetery looming ahead, not far from us. “We’re almost
there.”
[CAERIEL: Yes.]
He’s showing up with strange bruises.
Meanwhile, Rafe never skimped on his meals. It was always because of his training, or hunting, or whatever used up his calories for the day. When did it start…?
[CAERIEL: Jebediah Wulfric]/
It’s hard to put my finger on.
Which begs the question: How did I never realize Rafe’s lack of regard, when someone I
08:30
242 Grace: Unbalanced
assumed disliked me would offer me food off his plate, but my own boyfriend wouldn’t?
“Uh–huh.” The sound’s more of a grunty acknowledgement of my words than anything; it isn’t like he needs directions. He was born and raised here, after all. This is his pack by life and legacy.
“It’s nothing, really. Just… wondering why our pack is so peaceful.” I pause. “Your pack.”
I’m just filling air because the silence between us feels like a third passenger in the damn car.
Andrew suddenly nods, a sharp up–and–down jerk of his head, before he peels out of the parking lot. “You know, I was never a fan of Mexican food, anyway.”
I flinch, and he finally looks at me with sympathy. “You didn’t do anything wrong. Rogues aren’t inherently evil, cruel, or dangerous. As long as they haven’t gone feral, they’re just like you or me.”
“Clearly it’s something.”
Uneasiness stirs over his implicit understanding. I wasn’t sure how I was going to get space from him in order to get my sleuthing done, but he somehow seems to understand I’m holding secrets.
It’s even said Blue Mountain was named so because of the mountain ranges of his youth, or something, which has nothing to do with the mountains surrounding our
territory.
It’s a sobering thought process. Like opening Pandora’s Box; now that I’m thinking about it, I can’t stop… noticing. 1
Which is a good thing and I’m not complaining–not even close–but it does leave me a little off–balance. So far, when you consider the balance of friendship between us, it’s heavily weighted on Andrew’s side.
Worse, he’s okay with them.
And I’m… what, feeding him occasionally? It’s clear our friendship isn’t very equal, and I wonder how I’m going to even it out. (2)
He saved me from Ellie’s goons.
08:10
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242 Grace: Unbalanced
“Still… you, of all people, know how unwelcoming we are to outsiders. Not just humans like you, but rogues, too.”
Never took him up on it, of course, because… well, my head was filled with Rafe, and I was always under the impression Andrew didn’t like me very much.
I didn’t realize the awkward silence could only get more awkward.
Refusing to meet Andrew’s gaze or even respond to his understanding sympathy, I pop open the door and slip out of the car, heading into the cemetery without even waiting to see if he follows behind.
There’s something in the way he’s saying it. Not quite a lack of confidence, but… something.
Liar. Much like Rafe, Andrew’s plate was always filled with food. Though, despite being rather distant and indifferent to my plights and woes, he would politely offer me things on occasion.
My phone vibrates against my thigh, and I fish it out, already knowing who it’ll be. Caeriel’s name flashes across my screen with a single line of text:
