Broken Bond

Chapter 28

28

VANESSA

I’m a summer girl. While I appreciate tha we get the full range of seasons here in Colorado, summer is my absolute favorite; long days filled with soaking up the heat of the sun, deepening my tan, and spending as much time outdoors as possible.

Not even my favorite season can lift me out of this funk, though. Summer is at its peak, and I haven’t set foot outside of the packhouse in days. I’ve been avoiding the outside world, drowning myself in my own sorrow and Vienna’s experimental cocktails, always delivered with a kind word and a smile.

You’d think she’d be a decent mixologist since she worked at the lodge bar for months. She’s not. She dumps grenadine into everything she makes for me since she knows I like cherries, but completely fails to consider how the flavor will blend with the other ingredients. Gin and grenadine?

Absolutely foul. Tequila and grenadine?

Even worse. I don’t have the heart to tell her though, so I’ve either choked them down of secretly dumped them out in the bathroom sink. I know she’s trying to be there for me, trying to distract me from my heartache, and I appreciate her efforts, however misguided.

I know I can’t hole up in here forever. At the very least, I should go for a walk or something. It’s a beautiful day, and spending time outside in the fresh air is bound to lift my spirits. With that in mind, I force myself to shower and get dressed, throwing on a white cotton sundress that may just be the most comfortable thing I own. It’s t-shirt material, so damn soft that

I want to live in it. I don’t bother with makeup or doing my hair. It can air-dry in the sun. All I grab on my way out of my room is a pair of sandals, slipping them on my feet before stepping into the hallway.

I can hear Chase and Vee chatting in low voices somewhere past the end of the hall, and I strain my ears to try to discern whether anyone else is with them. The last thing I want to do is walk out there just to run into one of the guys I’m currently avoiding- though Vee has been pretty strict on enforcing my request for space, turning away any unwelcome visitors. She’s just as pissed about the bet as I am, if not more.

I emerge from the hallway to see Chase and Vienna lounging on the sectional, him sitting upright and her lying sideways with her legs thrown over his lap. They’re embroiled in their own hushed conversation, so they don’t notice me right away; not until I step further into the living room and clear my throat.

“I’m going for a walk,” I announce.

Vee’s brows lift in surprise. She props herself up on an elbow, giving me a concerned once-over. “Want me to come with you?”

I shake my head. I appreciate the offer, but I need to be alone right now, and I know I’m not good company.

“You sure?” Vee challenges. Text content © NôvelDrama.Org.

“I’m good,” I say, forcing a reassuring smile. “I just need to get out of here for a bit, clear my head. Get some fresh air.”

She nods, seemingly satisfied, and flops back down, her hair fanning the couch. cushion. Chase gives me a nod as well, offering his silent support. He’s caught in a tough place right now, considering I’m his mate’s best friend and the two guys responsible for my current state are his own best friends, but he hasn’t picked sides or made me feel awkward about it. There was a time when I wasn’t his biggest fan, but he’s been there for me over the past few months in his own way. Plus, he treats my bestie like a queen, so the guy’s solid in my book.

I exit the packhouse through the sliding glass door in the back, heading straight for the treeline at the rear of the property. The forest is a lush green, brimming with life, and I set out on a familiar path with no real destination in mind. It feels good just to be out here. The change in scenery improves my mood almost instantly, and the peaceful tranquility of the forest is like a balm to my battered heart. The deeper I wander, the more relaxed and serene I feel. It almost makes me forget my burdens.

Almost. I may be able to push it aside for a few minutes, but the gut-wrenching reality of the truth is always simmering just beneath the surface, waiting to rear its ugly head and remind me why my heart is in tatters. I honestly thought I was numb to pain at this point after going through so much after Cal left, but when that bet came to light, something in me just snapped. What was left of my misplaced hope was shattered.

I’ve been wandering the forest for the better part of an hour when the old hunting cabin at the edge of the territory comes into view. I wasn’t paying attention to where I was going, but I guess it figures that I’d wind up here. I came here a lot after the night of the full moon- not to torture myself with the memories, but to try to understand. Like returning to this place would somehow give me the answer to why Callum left.

The worst was the first full moon after he left. I came back to the cabin with the pathetic hope that he’d show up; that he’d somehow return from the mission just in time to explain his absence, seal the bond, and make everything right again. That hope was ripped from my body right along with the mate bond that night.

Still, I came back here. The next moon, and the next. Even a few times in between. I couldn’t stay away, couldn’t stop trying to find some sort of answer within these walls. This is the place where I experienced the best night of my life. It’s also where I experienced the worst. Subconsciously, I must be a masochist, because now I’m here again, my feet carrying me to this place on their own accord.

As I gravitate closer to the shabby old hunting cabin, my memories assault me. Of the bond snapping into place, of me running into Callum’s arms. Him kissing me and carrying me inside. I swear I can still smell him- leather and smoke, juniper and spice. Heady and masculine and completely intoxicating. This is where he told me he loved me for the first time. The first, and the last.

The door’s already ajar, so I step up to it and push it open, peering inside.

My heart trips over its valves when I see him. At first, I wonder if I’m imagining things, but even after I pinch myself, he’s still right there. Sitting in the chair at the small table, hunched over with his pencil scratching against a page. It’s a familiar position, one that I’ve seen him in dozens of times, but never here. His forearm muscles constrict and flex as he sketches, that one unruly tendril of hair falling down over his forehead. His jaw clenched in concentration.

He must really be in the zone, because he doesn’t notice me for a long moment. I don’t move, don’t breathe. I just watch him, rooted to the spot I’m standing in, watching the man who ran away with my heart. The one who broke me beyond repair.

Suddenly, his whole body tenses up, his head whipping around to look over his shoulder. Our eyes meet, his rounding in surprise. A bright mix of blue and green, like the crystal clear waters of the Caribbean sea, pulling me in and threatening to drown me.

“Ness…” His voice is raspy, the deep timbre of it scratching open a wound deep inside my chest. He flips his sketchbook closed and rises from the chair.

My sense of preservation is screaming for me to turn around and run, but my feet refuse to move. I’m frozen in my indecision, staring at Callum with my eyes wide and my mouth agape. Can’t move. Can’t breathe.

He takes a step toward me, and suddenly my feet become unglued. I back away, nearly tripping over the threshold of the doorway. He immediately halts his advance. His jaw clenches, his nostrils flare.

Sadness flickers in his eyes.

“Don’t go.”

Funny, those are the same words I thought of saying to him a million times if I’d been given the chance. Instead, he snuck away like a thief in the night, leaving me to wonder why. To wonder if I’d done something wrong.

Why’d he leave me?

Callum scrubs a hand over his face, heaving an agonized sigh. “Fuck, babe, please. Can we talk?”

My heart squeezes painfully in my chest. He seems so sincere, but I can’t trust it. I thought I knew him, but the Cal I knew wouldn’t have abandoned me. He wouldn’t have left me to wonder why I wasn’t good enough to keep.

“Now you want to talk?” I ask, drawing a measured breath and trying my hardest to keep my voice even. “I wanted to talk to you after that night. You didn’t give me the chance, didn’t answer my calls. So why should I talk to you now? Why should I give you a chance when you didn’t give me one?

Callum Adam’s apple bobs with a hard swallow, his shoulders sagging dejectedly. “I fucked up,” he rasps. “I thought I was doing the right thing, but… I fucked it all up.”

I just stare at him for a moment, unable to tear my eyes from his. Fighting to find the words to respond. My hands tremble, my voice wavering. “Was any of it real?” I ask, forcing back the tears stinging behind my eyes as I raise my voice louder. “Was it all a game, a bet? Was any of it real?”

“Of course it was real, Ness.” His voice breaks when he says my name and he shakes his head, stabbing his fingers through his disheveled hair. Then he returns his gaze to mine, the muscle in his

jaw ticking as he brings his hands together in front of him and his thumb glides over his inner wrist. The one I tattooed. “What you and I had… it was the most real thing in my life.”

At his admission, I lose the battle in holding my tears back. I feel one slip from my eye, sliding down my cheek. Then another. Then why’d you run away, Callum?” I choke. “Why’d you leave me?”

He crosses the room to me in two long strides, reaching out to cup my face in his hands. I don’t step back or brush them off. Instead, I melt into his touch, allowing him to thumb my tears away. “I was trying to protect you,” he murmurs, holding me captive with his stare. “I’m dangerous,

Nessa. I didn’t want…” his voice trails off and his throat works with a hard swallow. “I honestly thought it was the only way to keep you safe.”

He’s so close that I can feel his body heat, hear the rapid pounding of his pulse. I haven’t allowed anyone this close since he left. Haven’t let anyone touch me like this. Every touch felt wrong, but despite our history, despite what he’s done, his still feels right. I hate how right it feels.

I drag in a deep breath, reaching up to take his wrists and lift his hands off my face. I can’t think straight while his hands are on me. I let go and they fall limply to his sides as he heaves a defeated sigh.

“I thought I was doing the right thing,” Cal mumbles. “I thought you’d moved on. That you were happy.”

Something inside me twists, sorrow and unresolved anger blurring together. “Is that what you did?” I scoff, unable to keep the bite of accusation from my tone. “Just picked up and left and moved on?”

He reaches out for me again, but I flinch back.

“Tell me why, Callum.”

He shakes his head, his gaze shuttering. “I… can’t.”

And there it is. The nail in the coffin that was our love story.

My emotions war with one another, sadness and anger and pain and devastation. Anger wins out, digging its claws into me and pushing its way to the surface. “You didn’t give me a chance. Didn’t give me a choice,” I spit. “And now you can’t even give me a real explanation.” My eyes blur with tears, obscuring my vision. “I never should’ve trusted you. Never should’ve cried over you.

Not when you could just pick up and leave and not even give me another thought. I loved you, Callum! I gave you everything! And all you did was take. I mourned you every second of every day, and I bet you didn’t even think about me once!”

Anger flares in his irises, punctuated by the silver glimmer of his wolf. Callum turns on a heel, stomping over to the table and scooping up his sketchbook in an arm. His pencil rolls off the table and clatters to the floor as he whips back around, his brow furrowed and his lips drawn in a deep scowl.

He’s leaving again.

Can’t say I’m surprised.

His heavy footsteps echo in the confined space of the cabin as he stomps back over to me. “You’re wrong,” he growls, shoving the sketchbook against my chest. His intense gaze cuts into mine, shredding my already bleeding heart into ribbons. “You’re all I thought about.”

He steps around me to duck out of the doorway as I stand there frozen, clutching the sketchbook in my arms, struggling to breathe as I listen to his retreat. I’m still right there when the sound of his footsteps fades completely, and that’s when I finally allow myself to break down.

A sob tears from my throat as I stagger over to the table, slamming the sketchbook down on the surface and slumping down in the chair. 1 let my tears flow freely, splashing onto the dirty tabletop as a

pathetic wail escapes me. It hurts so much. I cry and cry until I have nothing left, my broken sobs echoing in the cabin around me.

I don’t know how much time passes. It could be minutes, could be hours, but I finally get my shit together and grasp onto some semblance of composure. Then I push away from the table, the wooden chair legs screeching against the floor, and rise to stand on shaky legs.

Cal’s sketchbook is still on the table. The cover is now stained with tears, the black bleeding to grey like watercolor paint. I don’t know why he gave it to me; why he’d think I’d want to look at his art after he ripped my heart out and stomped all over it. Something in me does, though, if only to remind myself that I’m not a fool. That there’s a side to Callum that nobody else. sees, and I caught a glimpse of it. It was real. We were real.

I drop back into the chair, flipping the cover back to reveal the first page.

My breath catches in my throat.

Delicate lines trace the profile of a face, dark hair cascading down over bare shoulders. I’d recognize that face anywhere. I see it in the mirror every day.

I flip the page.

The next sketch is close-up of my face, a wide smile stretching my lips, eyes crinkling at the corners. It’s intricate and detailed, the shading so exquisite that it’s reminiscent of a black and white photograph. It looks like I’m laughing, blissfully happy.

My heart slams against my ribs as I flip to the next page, this one a drawing of me from the waist up, a mischievous grin on my face. and my long hair covering my bare breasts.

I flip to the next one. And the next one. Pages upon pages of my face, my body. There must be a hundred of them.

Every single sketch is me. reeling because all I want to do is hold her and kiss the pain away and make everything better again, but I know I can’t do that. I won’t risk her safety for my own selfish impulses. I also can’t just stand by and watch her suffer either, so I’m at a complete loss for what to do.

I snap my gaze back to Chase. “You, uh, wanted to see me?” I grumble, schooling my expression and shoving my hands into the pockets of my jeans.

He nods, swiveling back around and gesturing for me to follow. My boots scuff against the hardwood underfoot as Chase leads me to his office, an odd sense of foreboding coming over me as I pause in the doorway rather than following him in. I’ve got mixed feelings about this room. I haven’t set foot inside since Alpha Vaughn’s death.

The first time he pulled me in here was arguably the worst night of my life, yet my

subsequent visits held rare moments where I actually felt understood; glimmers of hope that there was a path to redemption for me.