***
I'll be waiting in my car in Morningwood Park.
The text was from Beckett, telling me where to meet him. He didn't add what he hoped I'd do or ask for my decision. True to his word, he'd kept his distance for the next three days following his bombshell. And I'd been a mess.
Our research had stopped. Which meant I hadn't as much as seen him in those three days either. I realized why our paths had never crossed before. I had no reason to be near any of the buildings he taught in or his office.
Beckett had been busy backing up his data to prepare it for transferring to do more research anyway. I was meant to meet him in the park and tell him if I was staying here or going with him.
Except I hadn't decided, and I didn't know. My mom was out, so I didn't have to answer any questions when I stripped, shifted, and headed out my window with a small overnight bag. I'd packed pajamas, my toothbrush, and my phone charger. Not enough to stay indefinitely with him, but enough that I wouldn't be completely unprepared if I did go.
The wind was with me as I flew from my house to the park. I circled around over the trees, staying high and out of sight as I searched the ground for Beckett's car.
I'd asked him once toward the beginning of our relationship how it was that he drove. His car was a top-of-the-line self-driving model, so advanced it wasn't even available in regular markets. He'd told me the car had been delivered to him by the CEO of the company that had made it, and they'd ran an article in some normie paper about the state-of-the-art model. Thousands of sensors lined the outside. He could stop on a dime, turn on a quarter, and probably drive over whatever money you had left.
Too bad the self-driving car wasn't also a sentient car that could tell me what to do. I didn't just not enjoy making my own choices, I sucked at it. And really, could Beckett expect any different? Didn't he know me?
A familiar red gleam caught my attention, and I spotted Beckett's car on the ground. My heart jumped. Beckett was in that car. If I went to that car, I could see him.
Suddenly, my choice felt so very clear.
Beckett was in the car. I wanted to be with Beckett. Logic told me that I should also be in that car then. I pointed my beak down, becoming like an arrow in the sky as I barreled toward my safe harbor.
A fierce burst of wind blew me off course, bringing angry dark clouds that made the cheery blue sky disappear. The clouds opened, sending fat drops of rain that pelted my wings. I rerouted, going for ground before another strong wind blew me into the next county. I wasn't a very strong flier, and the pack clutched in my talons threw me off-balance.
Luckily, there was a tree directly beneath me, and I hopped under the bottom branches to the base of the trunk. I could still see Beckett parked across the field in the parking lot, but I was behind his car and couldn't see his face through the back window. The visceral force that had drawn me to Beckett cleared like fog.
I didn't believe in signs. And the sudden wind and rain weren't a sign, but what if they were a sign?
My decision shouldn't have been this difficult.
I loved Beckett so much.
Beckett was leaving, and I would—
How come I couldn't answer that question? We weren't mates. A knot hadn't magically appeared at any point over the months we'd been together. What sort of a future could I really have with Beckett? Was my mate still out there? Or was I like so many other shifters who didn't have one—or never ended up finding theirs?
Was this what growing up was like? It didn't feel great, just like more uncertainty. The one thing that always helped me deal with my uncertainty was the thing causing it.
I should have been able to do this on my own. This, and so much else, like deciding what to eat or wear.
I shifted, hiding behind the tree as I slipped on my pajamas. They were the only clothes I'd packed. I grabbed my phone next, my finger hovering over Beckett's name.
Like a band-aid, my brother used to say when I was younger. I hadn't liked removing them, but Seamus had explained the wound beneath couldn't probably heal unless I did. Was that what was happening here? I needed to rip my dependence on Beckett off like a band-aid, and it would suck, and I would feel like I was making the wrong choice—I did already—but then later, I'd grow. I'd heal.
Before I could think another thought that would sway me to either side, I sent the last text I'd ever send the first man I ever loved.
Beckett, I love you, but I can't go.
I pressed send, and then, like the coward I was, I turned off my phone.
Chapter Fourteen
Shiloh
I thought I needed to rip him off.
I hadn't realized he'd already burrowed inside me.
"Shiloh!" My brother slammed the front door shut behind him. "I will grab a bucket of water if you aren't out here in five minutes," he bellowed.
I turned my face into my pillow and groaned. When had Seamus gotten so bossy? Why did he want me out of bed anyway? It was Sunday. I didn't have any place to—
"I am filling the bucket now!" he yelled.
"I'm coming!" I screamed back, throwing the blanket from my body. I'd slept almost an entire week in my own bed since Beckett had left, and I hated it. The flannel sheets that had once felt so warm and cozy now seemed cold and scratchy. They weren't luxurious silk, and Beckett's warmth wasn't there to—
No, it was better if I stopped thinking about everything I didn't have anymore. I'd been given an option. I made my choice, and now I had to live with it. True to Beckett's word, he didn't try to convince me after I sent that cowardly text. He sent back only one reply, a whole twenty-four hours after I'd sent mine.
I understand. I'll always love you. Please stay safe.
Tears prickled my eyes. Stay safe… Even when I was rejecting him, he cared about my wellbeing.
I yanked my door open, revealing Seamus on the other side holding a large bowl of water. He stopped suddenly, causing the water to roll over the edge of the bowl and splash on my feet.
I looked down at the ground and then up to Seamus's face. "My feet are awake now too, thanks."
"Ha ha. What are you doing home right now?"
I scratched the back of my head, but that only reminded me of how Beckett used to scratch the back of his head, and my throat suddenly felt like it was going to close up. There wasn't a thing in this world that I couldn't link back to a memory of Beckett. It was like playing Six Degrees of Kevin Bacon, only instead of linking a memory to Kevin Bacon, I just got really depressed.
"Sleeping?"
He scowled. "It's noon."
"Yeah, well you used to sleep until noon all the time," I shot back, pushing past him and into the kitchen.
"I know. I was also dealing drugs and partying every night back then too." He was close on my heels. "Is that what you're doing, Shiloh?"
In the living room, Carl sat sleeping in his car seat. I paused to look at the little guy. He'd been part of the reason why I decided to stay, so he would know my face. I didn't want to be the weird uncle he never talked to.
"I'm not doing drugs. And I'm definitely not partying. Why are you riding me so hard? It's the freaking weekend. I'm not missing anything." I reached into the cupboard for a coffee cup and then thought better, going to the fridge for orange juice instead. I brought the carton to my lips and swallowed until my lungs screamed for air.