Howl (Monster Boyfriends #1)

Chapter 12

Chapter Twelve

RAEGAN

I ’m the first to wake on Wednesday morning. It’s nine thirty, and typically Jamie would already be drinking a cup of coffee and almost done making breakfast by now. Yet, when I look behind me, I find him still sound asleep in my bed.

His left arm is draped haphazardly across his forehead, mouth gaping. I silently laugh and grab his forearm to reposition it at his side, but when I do, I feel the scorching temperature of his skin. I touch his forehead and confirm it’s burning up.

Reaching over to dig in my nightstand, I pull out an electronic thermometer. I pull the trigger and wait for it to read. With a beep, the screen shows 101.3.

“Shit,” I whisper.

I try to rouse him awake by rubbing his shoulder, but he only groans and rolls over to face the window. With his back facing me, I feel a wave of heat coming off his body.

“Jamie, I think you’re sick.”

He stiffens, clearly awake, and I spy his hand on the other side of the bed creating a fist in the sheets.

This time my voice quivers. “Jamie?”

He bolts upright and stretches dramatically. “That was the best sleep of my life,” he says, totally casual.

“Jamie,” I say his name again but more forcefully to grab his attention, “your temperature is high. Do you feel okay?”

He turns to face me with a bright smile and absolutely no sign of discomfort. “I’m fine. My temp runs naturally high.”

“Over a hundred is natural?”

His smile falters for just a second but immediately slips back into place. “I probably caught a cold or something,” he suggests. “Remember, Casey was coughing at work the other day?”

I definitely don’t remember that but I nod emphatically anyway, just to set both him and myself at ease. Only it’s not working on my end.

“So listen,” he says, standing to grab his jacket and his boots, “I took off today because I’ve got some errands to run. I probably won’t be by again until tomorrow. Will you be alright?”

He’s asking if I’m capable of being by myself for the next twenty-four hours, and though I know he doesn’t mean it this way, it feels like pity.

I take a moment to assess my current mental state and try to imagine myself walking out the front door and down the steps, feeling fresh air on my skin, and knowing the entire world is open before me.

Miraculously, I don’t flinch.

“I’m better now,” I tell him, and it feels true.

I don’t think going back to my normal routine will send me into a panic spiral. It’s time I faced the outside again: aka the town and all their questions. Ethan texted me last night telling me I could take off the rest of the week. I was surprised by his generosity, given he’s not one for taking a mental health day, but most likely he’s just waiting for the drama to die down.

I try to shape the look on my face into something resembling confidence, but it’s been a minute since I’ve felt that particular feeling. Without any other questions, Jamie nods and accepts my answer. Either I managed to pass his inspection with flying colors, or he just ignored any cracks in my facade. I’m beginning to think it’s the latter.

He hurriedly grabs the rest of his things, and before heading out the door, he leans in to brush a kiss to my cheek. Though it’s less than a second, I feel him lingering to feel the press of my skin against his. I relish the sensation and tuck it away in the back of my mind for later use. In case I need the memory as a life raft in another episode of panic.

“I’ll be back tomorrow,” he promises.

I hear the sincerity in the tone of his voice, and I know he means it. Whatever it is that’s driving him away right now, he won’t let it keep him from me for long.

The door closes gently and I listen for the click of the handle as it settles in place. The moment he’s gone, I exhale the breath I’d been hoarding in my chest.

“You’re fine,” I tell myself out loud. “Everything is fine.”

It takes me longer than usual to get myself ready. Instead of the quick ten minute shower I tend to stick to, I linger under the warm water for twenty minutes. I don’t bother drying or styling my hair, only glaze the strands with leave-in conditioner to prevent frizz and let nature take its course.

I know I’m delaying the inevitable when it takes me almost thirty minutes to pick out my outfit. I’ve never put so much thought into what I’m wearing before, but internally I know it’s a stall tactic. Eventually, I decide to wear my favorite pair of millennial skinny jeans and one of my seasonal transition sweaters. It’s made from a deep maroon material that’s super soft and will help usher in the Autumn spirit, but it’s thin enough that I won’t melt in the afternoon heat. I finish off the ensemble with an old pair of low top Chucks. The outfit is simple, but it’s comfortable—something I really need right now.

Standing in front of the mirror, I take in my appearance. Not the outfit or the still damp hair, but my face. I see the lines of worry around my brow and the corners of my mouth. My skin is dry and patchy from skipping my nightly moisturizer twice in a row. Yet there’s no part of me that cares.

The purple marks on my neck are more pronounced than ever, but I can’t bring myself to do anything to cover them. As much as I wish I could hide away from what happened, I don’t want to negate the seriousness of what Patrick did. Part of me wants everyone to see the bruise, and as I take a deep breath and plaster a smile on my face, that part of me wins. The mirror knows the gesture is fake, but hopefully no one else will.

I make sure Cleetus is fed and clean out his litter box that I’ve neglected for three days. He thanks me by rubbing against my legs and purring loudly.

“I’m sorry, sweet boy,” I apologize, crouching down to scratch his chin the way he likes. “I had a rough few days.”

He places a paw on my knee and I know this means he’s accepted.

“If Jamie hadn’t been here, you would take care of me, wouldn’t you?” He bumps his head against my thigh. “You always do.”

I grab either side of his face and kiss his forehead emphatically before grabbing my bag and heading out. The door closes behind me and I wait momentarily for the expanse of hallway to overwhelm me, but instead I find myself eager to start my day. This is the best sign I could hope for.

Giving myself little things to look forward to has always been a great tool for motivation. And now, as I venture slowly back to the simulation of my old self, I try to give myself a reward.

If I make it into town , I’ll go straight to Kiki’s and get a butter pecan iced coffee .

I’m not purposefully avoiding Double Double—Jamie isn’t working today anyway, and Kiki makes the better holiday drinks since Jamie never likes to go “cutesy” with his menu. Besides the fall themed beverages he’s forced to serve at the Founding Festival, the most spirited coffee he’s ever offered was the year he allowed one of his part-time baristas to get creative with the cafe lattes at Christmas. She created a little reindeer with the foam, and the town ate them up that holiday season.

Right now, I’m craving the feel of autumn in the air, and as I step out onto the staircase that leads down to the parking lot, I’m ecstatic to feel a crisp breeze blow across my face. It’s a bit chilly with my wet hair, but every muscle in my body relaxes at the touch of cool air, and instead of a push to go back inside, I feel a pull to venture further.

On the ride into town, I roll down my windows. I’ll probably end up with that fake cold Jamie has, but I can’t bring myself to care. Instead, I allow the chill to seep into my bones, waking me up from my two day hibernation.

As I turn onto Main Street, I spy the many dots of orange in every window and outside every door. The Founding Day Festival is two weeks away, and though everyone is hustling to get things in order, the sight of my home town dressed to the nines ushers in a breath of relief that immediately relaxes my shoulders.

I park in my usual spot outside of Kiki’s and glance over at Double Double across the street. I can see through the decorless windows that Layton, the assistant manager, is running the register. Looks like Jamie was telling the truth about being off today. I hate that it was instinct to check, and afraid my distrust is only going to grow the more he keeps hiding from me.

Inside the cafe, I’m greeted first by Kiki’s sister, Kendra, as she sits at the bar top waiting for her breakfast sandwich to-go. Being close in age, the redheaded sisters almost look like twins, but their personalities set them entirely apart. Besides Kendra having shorter hair, I’ve identified a few key differences between the two. Kendra has a dimple on the left side of her cheek when she smiles, and Kiki tends to have an indignant expression on her face at all times, her eyebrows are tilted in a perpetual furrow. She’s also the more outspoken of the two. Kendra’s aura gives off kind and bubbly energy, while Kiki’s, kind as it may be, makes people take a step back.

Kendra lets out a banshee shriek when she sees me and nearly falls off her stool. She stumbles and falls into an embrace around my torso. My ears are still ringing when she pulls back to look at me.

“I’m so glad to see you,” she cries with joy. “Honey, where have you been? When I heard what happened, I wanted to march on over to the police station and smack that hooligan myself for what he did to you!” She makes an obvious effort to avoid looking at my neck as she says this.

I knew people would start asking questions the minute I showed my face back in town, but I at least hoped to get a coffee first. Kendra’s doting, motherly spirit doesn’t concern me though. I know she means well and only wants to check on me.

“Thank you, Kendra,” I placate. “I’m just grateful he’s gone.”

She humphs and nods curtly. “Sit down, sweetheart. Get yourself a coffee.”

“Precisely my plan.”

Though she’s only ten years older than me, Kendra has always felt like a motherly figure. My mother isn’t a bad mother, but she’s never been quite as doting as Kendra. Though she cares for me, I believe my mother’s first priority will always be the coven, and I can’t blame her for that. Especially given I don’t have magic. Why would she waste time on me when witches under her supervision need her more?

I take in Kendra’s outfit and fawn over her creativity. She’s wearing a black jumpsuit with golden suns and moons creating a pattern across the fabric, and accented with gold eyeliner to match. To tie it all together, she’s added a red patchwork cardigan over top for a pop of color.

“You’re always so stylish,” I compliment her. “And autumn is your best time of year.”

“I wholeheartedly agree.” She twirls on the spot before sitting back down, and I hear a whoop from the back corner.

“Thanks, Maurice!” Kendra takes a dramatic bow.

I’m pretty sure the bar owner has had the hots for her since they were in school together.

The cook behind the open window snaps his fingers appraisingly, but then Kiki steps out from the kitchen, the two-way doors swinging wildly in her wake.

“Kenny, why are you shouting so early in the morning?” the older sister demands.

Kendra freezes in place and looks abashed. She brushes over her cardigan as if flattening invisible wrinkles then plops back on the stool beside me. Meanwhile, I’m fighting to hide an enormous grin.

Kiki stomps over to where Kendra and I are sitting at the counter with a scowl on her face. “Why are you disruptin’ my customers?” Her straight red hair is pulled up into a bun and covered with a hairnet, loose strands protruding from every opening.

Kendra looks offended. “I wasn’t disruptin’ anybody.”

“We were just admiring her fashion sense, Kiki,” I say, attempting to ease the tension.

The disgruntled sister turns to me and her scowl fades. “Raegan, you’re back.”

I didn’t realize not showing my face in town for two days would result in everyone thinking I left, but I guess that goes to show how upsetting the routine of a small town can throw everyone off kilter.

“I decided to take a vacation,” I tell her, and everyone in earshot. The entire cafe has quieted enough that they clearly want to hear the conversation. Both sisters’ eyes roam over my throat, looking for the bruise, but my hair is covering most of it from sight. “I’m fine,” I add. “Just glad it’s over.”

Kiki gives me a pitying grin, and I can tell she wants to say more, but unlike Kendra, she keeps her comments to herself. “Alright!” she barks, clapping her hands to grab everyone’s attention. “Everyone back to your breakfast! This ain’t a soap opera!” The murmur of individual conversations fills the air, and just like that, the cafe resumes order.

Kendra scoots her stool closer and leans in. Apparently she isn’t done prying. “I haven’t seen Jamie around much either,” she suggests. “Is he with you?”

“Not right now, but we umm–just hung out at my place until things died down.”

Her eyebrows arch. “He stayed with you?”

I hesitate. “Yeah, he just wanted to make sure I was okay.”

Now her playful curiosity turns to concern. “Oh sweetheart,” her voice steady with a sudden awareness. “Of course. I should have known what happened would trigger a panic attack.”

Hearing it from her makes me cringe. Like I’m a patient in need of a padded room. Kendra is the only other person who has witnessed one of my episodes, but still, she doesn’t truly understand how bad it can get.

I had been extremely stressed at work one day, and Kendra happened to be browsing the shelves. A disagreement with a customer led to me hyperventilating behind the counter, so Kendra pulled me aside and dragged us to the back corner of the store. In the very last row of books, beneath the dusty sign saying ESSAYS AND POETRY, I allowed myself five minutes to panic, and Kendra was right there the entire time holding my hand. She told me she suffered from panic attacks as a teenager, but that the anxiety never really goes away. You just learn to manage it.

Her advice was enough to clear my head, and I went back to work. Ever since then, she’s taken the time to check in, asking about my mental health. I appreciate it, but it only reminds me that I’m a basket case.

A basket case that Jamie is now forced to carry.

I know he said he would be busy today, but I’m suddenly overwhelmed with the need to see him. The way we parted this morning still doesn’t sit right with me, and I think it’s time I start asking questions, instead of worrying myself into another episode.

Something was clearly wrong with him when I took his temperature. No one’s temp naturally runs that high. However, Jamie is the type of person to ignore symptoms when it comes to being sick, especially if he’s busy with something important.

The week of Double Double’s grand opening, he came down with strep throat, but never told anyone until he was in so much pain he couldn’t talk. I had to drag him to the clinic so they could load him up on antibiotics and pump him full of fluids. He still managed to be there on opening day, greeting everyone at the door with his boyish grin.

I love that grin.

“I’m glad he was there,” Kendra says, pulling me from my daydreaming. “I swear that boy never leaves your side. You’re like two peas in a pod.”

I’ve heard the sentiment many times. Everyone in town knows how close we are.

“He certainly took it personally when that man put his hands on you,” she continues, as if we’re gossiping. “From what I heard, Jamie looked possessed. Reminds me of when his uncle first met Paloma. He helped her leave a pretty nasty relationship, and after that, they were inseparable. I tell you what, I have never seen anyone more livid than a werewolf protecting their mate.” She cocks her head, but I’m no longer listening to anything she’s saying. “As a matter of fact…”

Suddenly all of Jamie’s odd behavior starts flashing like a slideshow in my mind. His severe aggression toward Patrick, the overly attentive nature he’s shown me, and now suddenly disappearing after being glued to my side for days. It all lines up a little too perfectly.

It’s as if there’s a full moon making him act so out of character.

My heart skips a beat. I hurriedly grab my bag from the hook beneath the counter and dig for my phone. Kendra is trying to ask me something, but I don’t have the mental capacity to answer her. Right now my mind is focused on one thing: opening my calendar app. As I click to the current week and select today’s date, I spy the little moon graphic in the corner of the box.

No flippin’ way.

I’ve known Jamie since high school. If he was a werewolf, there would have been signs. He would have told me.

Would he?

Had I somehow given him a reason not to trust me with such a profound part of himself? And not just me, but the entire town. The whole point of Shadow Hills’ founding was to provide a safe place for paranormals. Why in the world would Jamie choose to keep his nature a secret in the one place that would truly accept him?

I stand up and rush to the door, appetite forgotten.

“Where you goin’?” Kendra asks. “You haven’t ordered yet!”

“I just remembered I need to check on something.” I’m already halfway outside when I call back to her. “I still want to come by and see those kittens!”

I see her dumbfounded expression through the window as I pass but don’t stop. I race across the street to Double Double, praying someone knows where Jamie is.