Kelly Meding: Wrong Side of Dead

“Evy, may I ask you a personal question?”

“Sure. Just remember your bare ass is at my mercy.”

He chuckled, and I had an irrational urge to poke him in the ribs. I tore strips of medical tape instead. “What changed?”

“You’re going to have to narrow that down.” I covered the butterflied wound with a clean gauze pad. Taped it down, creating a rectangle of white against tan skin.

Phin hauled his pants back up, turning to face me as he buttoned them. His eyes searched my face, genuinely curious. “I know things were difficult after Thackery hurt you, and you told me that you and Wyatt were giving each other space to figure things out. But something changed between you two the night Felix was infected.”

My heart ached at the memory of that awful night two weeks ago. The evening began so normally, but had devolved into blood and violence, and ended with heartbreak. It was the night Wyatt and I realized just how much we’d both been changed by those three weeks I was with Thackery. Wyatt and I both said some things that night that had needed to be said for a while. The fight broke us both; there was no going back to how things used to be.

“A lot changed that night, Phin.”

“I know. I’ve seen you every day since. You’ve thrown yourself into your training and you rarely interact with anyone outside our squad except for Milo. You make it a point to avoid Wyatt, and when you do see him—”

“What?”

“The temperature in the room drops twenty degrees.”

“Weather control isn’t one of my gifts, Phin.”

“Do you still love him?”

If anyone else had asked me that, I’d have told them to fuck off. “I’ll always love him,” I said as I leaned my unbruised hip against a supply cabinet and crossed my arms over my stomach. “But the way you love someone can change, especially if you hurt them badly enough. And what if—?” I froze, the thought stuck in my throat. Something I’d never voiced out loud, much less to another person.

“What if?” Phin asked. He took a step toward me, hands tucked loosely in his jeans pockets. Intent.

“Nothing.” I reached for the small pile of bandage wrappers and shoved them into the nearest waste can. As I turned to leave the cubicle, Phin blocked my way without (wisely) grabbing me.

“What if what?”

I heaved a defeated sigh. He wasn’t letting it go. “What if, despite all the pain and heartache we’ve endured, Wyatt and I really aren’t meant to be together? What if that’s why we can’t seem to make this work?”

Phin tilted his head to the side, considering me, my words, probably both. “What if you’re wrong?” he finally said.

“But what if I’m right, Phin?”

He went silent again, his mouth pressing into a thin line. I could almost see the wheels turning, the gears clicking away as he made connections. Weighed his words. “Evangeline, may I present the Therian’s perspective on this?”

“Go for it.” The human perspective wasn’t doing me much good.

“Shit or get off the pot.”

My jaw unhinged. I think my brain fuzzed out for a moment, because I couldn’t have possibly heard him say what I thought. I finally squawked out a garbled, “Huh?”

“Granted, that’s a human expression, but it sums up my perspective very simply. Therian lives are relatively short compared to humans. You have the luxury of waffling on matters of the heart and on choosing a mate. We don’t. We must follow our instincts, make our choices, and then live with them.” He paused, eyes searching mine. “Therefore, if you are not willing to follow your gut, to choose Wyatt, and to live with the consequences of that choice, then get off the metaphorical pot and move on.”

A small amount of time must have passed with me simply staring at him. At some point, I realized my mouth was really dry and I clamped it shut. Swallowed. I wasn’t used to being called to the mat, especially over my love life. But everything he’d said was true, and it also set my own wheels turning. Curiosity overcame shock.

Phin and I had been friends for several months, and yet I knew very little about him. His Clan’s slaughter was still a sore subject, and I could never breach it without feeling guilty—not just for the painful reminder, but for my own role in so many deaths. Deaths of the people he loved.

“May I ask you a personal question?” I said.

His face went blank, and his hands pressed deeper into his pockets—as if he could make himself smaller and that would somehow lessen the impact of whatever I was about to ask. “Yes.”

“Have you ever been in love?”

Blue fire danced in his eyes. His nostrils flared and, just for an instant, I swore he looked ready to attack. Then his expression softened, grief tempering the fury. “Yes, I have. I was very much in love with my wife, Jolene.”

Jolene. Wife. My insides ached for him. Tears tightened my throat, wanting to spill for a woman I hadn’t known. I swallowed hard, grasping for my voice. “She loved you?”

“Yes.” He smiled, but though his expression was gentle, a hint of ferocity still lingered. “I’m ten years old, Evy. I have lived half my lifetime and loved well for three of those years. You’re twice as old as I, and all you’ve experienced is heartache and betrayal. It grieves me to know this.”

“I’ve experienced love.”

“The love of your teammates, yes. The love of a man who moved Heaven and Earth to bring you back to life, certainly. But have you ever loved with your whole heart? Offered it to someone with no expectations in return, because you loved him so deeply you could do nothing less?”

Tears blurred my vision, and I blinked them away. The answer to Phin’s question was so easy, and I hated him for asking. Hated myself just as much for the answer. “No. No, I haven’t.”

I’d wanted to with Wyatt. Wanted him to be the one I gave my heart to, and I knew he’d have accepted me with compassion, desire, and love. Before Thackery broke me. Before I told Wyatt the whole truth about how Felix got away the night he was infected.

It didn’t matter anymore. I’d lived my entire life tormented by the stupid, storybook notion of true love, and I’d be damned if I’d mourn something I didn’t need. “People like me don’t get that one true love, Phin,” I said with more conviction in my voice than in my heart. “We get a few flings along the way to an early grave.”

“Perhaps. But is that what you want, Evy?”

“Does it matter?”

“It matters to me.”

“Why?”

He blinked rapidly, as if my question surprised him. “Because I’ve seen your heart. You show it every day in the way you fight to protect those you care about. You have so much love hiding inside of you. Please don’t deny yourself the chance to share it.”

Those damned tears were back, choking me. I fought them, unwilling to cry. There was too much to do and no time for an emotional breakdown. Still, I couldn’t let it go. “And what happens when I die again and break Wyatt’s heart for the third time?”

“No one can predict the future, Evy, not even the wisest of mages. Lovers die and hearts break. Losing my wife was the worst agony I have ever endured, but even knowing our short time together, I’d gladly suffer it again. Because now, with time between us, I can think of her and remember the joy.”

He pulled his hands from his pockets and cupped my cheek in his palm. His thumb brushed away a stray tear. The warm touch and sweet gesture undid me. I flung my arms around his shoulders and held on. Emotions churned and burned in my chest, but I couldn’t force out that first sob. The dam wouldn’t break.

Phin held me close, solid muscle beneath skin as soft as air. His heart beat nearly twice as fast as mine—its natural pace. He had so many reasons to hate me. Over three hundred, to be perfectly frank. And yet he didn’t. It would be easier to hate myself if he wasn’t so forgiving of my worst sins.