Tracking the Bear (Blue Ridge Bears Book 1)(33)

“I killed someone, Lucy,” he said quietly. “I mean it. I’m dangerous. You shouldn’t be here.”

“This isn’t the end of the world,” I said. “Come back with me. I’m sure a case can be made.”

He turned to glare out of the cave entrance. “It was the end of Keith’s world,” he whispered.

I wanted to cross the space between us and wrap by arms around his middle. I hated the sadness in his voice. I hated that he was right, and that there was nothing that could be done to right that particular wrong.

“You can’t just sulk in a cave,” I argued.

“Why the hell not?” he snapped. “It’s better that way.”

I slid to the ground and tried to give a brief explanation of what had happened in the weeks immediately after the attack. I left out the part about Sylvia, the possible new were-bear he’d created. I told him instead about Chance. Chance showing up at the diner. Chance rescuing me from the side of the road. Chance and the lies, Chance at the hotel. And finally about Freyr’s warning, that I was the only one who could stop him.

“Why, though?” he muttered. The tension had finally eased out of his shoulders, even though he wouldn’t look at me. “Why would you stop him? I deserve it.”

“No, you don’t,” I snapped. “Quit saying that. You didn’t do that on purpose.”

“I’m not good, Lucy. Don’t you get that? I’m not the guy these Vanir people want. I’m not a hero.”

“Don’t be an idiot,” I said, staring at his back. “You are a good guy. A bit impulsive and childish sometimes, but you’re good.”

He turned back toward me, staring pointedly at my bad leg. “Oh, and if I’m such a saint, exactly how did that happen?”

“It was an accident.”

“Just like Keith’s death was an accident,” he sneered. “Boy, I sure am misunderstood.”

I tossed a small rock at him. It bounced off his abs. Damned show off. “Don’t be an ass.”

“Can’t change nature,” he muttered bitterly. “I’m not the hero they need, Luce. I’ll just make things worse.”

“So you’re just going to what, lay down and die?”

“Maybe I should,” he snapped.

I stared at him for a long time. Where was this suddenly coming from? He ducked his head, shamefaced and refused to look at me.

“No matter what you’ve done, you don’t deserve to die,” I whispered. I reached out toward him. He jerked his arm away.

“How the fuck do you know what I deserve, huh?” He rounded on me, the icy blue of his eyes, so like my own, fading to a rich brown. It was unsettling, seeing his bear peering out of me in his otherwise human face.

He shoved at my shoulder and I was forced to put my full weight on my injured leg. I wobbled dangerously for several seconds. I bit the inside of my cheek until I tasted blood, determined not to shout or curse. At least I hadn’t fallen on my ass.

“See? That right there,” he said, jabbing a finger at me. “That’s what I’m talking about.”

“I don’t understand,” I gritted out.

“Of course, you don’t,” he said, and he fixed me a look that I was all too familiar with. It was the one I’d always gotten in high school, when he thought I was being particularly dim about something.

“Explain to me, then,” I snapped. My leg felt like it had been dipped in a deep fryer. I didn’t think the pain had lessened any, but I was less wobbly. Maybe I was just becoming more accustomed to it.

“This whole martyr thing you’ve got going on. It all started when Mom and Dad passed. I’m only three minutes younger than you, Lucy; you didn’t have to mother me to death!”

My mouth popped open. A swell of fury rose and with it came my bear. My hands tightened into fists, and cool metal bit into my palm. I hadn’t realized until that moment that I’d been clutching something in my right hand. I was too angry to look down and see what it was. I glared at Luke, and he glared right back at me.

“I did no such thing.”

“Oh, really? Who made excuses for my bad grades? Who covered my ass when I broke curfew?”

“Don’t you think I would have told you not to do those things if I was being motherly?”

“But that’s the point!” he said, exasperated. “You never let me take responsibility when I fucked up Lucy! And I majorly fucked up. You know I did.”

“If you’re talking about the party, you’re wrong. You just made a-”

“A mistake?” he finished sourly. “A mistake, is that what we’re calling it? Still? I was supposed to pick you up from your game, and I blew it off. I got stupid drunk, and by the time I remembered I had to pick you up, I was in no state to drive. I did it, anyway.”

“I drank that night, too,” I reminded him.

“Yeah. You chugged the six pack that I had in the backseat before the cops and the ambulance arrived so they wouldn’t call you on the lie. But you didn’t drive that car, Lucy, I did.”

“But-”

“Get mad at me!” he yelled. The sound echoed off the cave walls and bounced back to us.

“What do you want me to say?” I said wearily. I wanted nothing more than to sink down and bury my face in my hands. I didn’t want to have this conversation now. Not with Chance missing. Not with a pack of werewolves chasing us.