Wild is the Witch (76)
I sit down on the ground and lean into Winter, and she sits beside me, steady and strong. I notice the wolf that Mom and I healed in the distance, no longer separated from the other wolves, and I smile to myself. He’ll be released soon, back to the wild where he belongs. Not every animal we take in is able to be released again, and there’s always an incredible joy with the ones who are.
After sitting with Winter for over an hour, I go to the office before heading home. Sarah insisted on making me a feast of all my favorite foods tonight, and I can’t wait to sit around the table with my family. But the office is empty right now, and that means I can go in and feel him without anyone knowing.
Pike.
He has slowly started reaching out, and it’s been hard not seeing him. Not checking in with him every hour to make sure he’s doing okay. I want to give him the space and time he needs, but I’m missing him a lot today, so I unlock the office door and walk into the back where he keeps his Foggy Mountain sweatshirt, along with a coffee mug that says I’m duckin’ awesome above a picture of a duck wearing sunglasses.
I run my fingers along the handle of the mug and touch his sweatshirt. I’m tempted to smell it, but if Pike ever found out, I’d never live it down. He’s going to finish up his semester, then start at the refuge full-time, where I can teach him to use his magic. He’ll need a Stellar to train him if he thinks he might want to change majors into a human-focused field, but I can teach him all the basics, the laws and rules and expectations of living with magic in this world.
I reach for my phone in my pocket, wanting to text him, but I stop myself, the way I do every time I get the urge to contact him. He’ll call me when he’s ready. We’ll talk when he’s ready.
I slip my phone back into my pocket and am about to walk home when I notice a sticky note on my locker. I pull the note from the door and my heart jumps into my throat. There’s only one person who would leave a note like that.
Open with care: the contents inside just might save your life.
I stare at the note, wondering when he wrote it, if he was feeling okay when he did, if it made him smile to himself. Then I carefully tuck the note in my pocket and open my locker door.
I jump back as dozens of KIND bars cascade out, one after the other, so many I could refloor the entire back room with them. I’m stunned for a moment, then burst out laughing, my stomach aching and my eyes watering, the very best kind of laughter.
“Just imagine how long you could survive off of those.”
I turn around, and there he is, standing in the doorway, leaning on his crutches for support. He almost looks like himself again, easy smirk and messy hair, glasses that don’t have a crack through the lens. I want to rush toward him, but I’m too scared of what he’ll do, so I stay where I am.
“A few months, at least,” I say.
He puts his crutches out in front of him and swings, slowly moving toward me. He bends over and picks up a single bar from the ground, then hands it to me. “I hope you appreciate how difficult this is for me,” he says, any hint of joking gone from his voice.
I look down, my heart slamming into my ribs. “I’m so sorry, Pike. I wish I could—”
“You know how I feel about KIND bars,” he says, cutting me off.
I look up at him, and there’s that smirk again. Relief washes over me, and I roll my eyes. “You’re a piece of work.”
“I know,” he says, looking pleased with himself. “If you think I’m obnoxious as an intern, just wait until I’m your student.”
I groan and can’t help the laugh that follows. “I can only imagine.”
He moves one step closer to me, and I lean into my locker, worried I won’t be able to stand on my own otherwise. “I really am sorry,” I say. “So, so sorry.”
“I know you are.” Pike looks at me, his expression turning serious. He searches my face and slowly raises his hand, tucking a stray curl behind my ear. “I’ve spent the past week thinking. That’s all I’ve done. I’ve tried to figure out what I want my life to look like, how I want to move on from here, what I want to say to my parents, but I can’t focus. Every time I try to think of those things, my thoughts turn to you.”
“They do?” I ask, swallowing hard.
“Yes. It’s annoying, if I’m being honest.”
“I’m sorry,” I say, feeling the way my mouth pulls up at the corner.
“You know, I don’t think you are.” He matches my smile, then turns serious again. He gently pulls up the sleeve of my shirt, wincing as he takes in my red, raised skin, scars that will never go away. I have the urge to pull my sleeve down, to hide from him, but I don’t want to hide anymore. He does the same on the other side, his eyes trailing up and down my arm, his expression pained as if he can feel the burns on his own skin. Then he pulls my sleeve back down and looks at me.
“You almost set yourself on fire to save me from this curse, and you endured an unimaginable amount of pain in order to stop mine.” He exhales, shaking his head. “It’s work, resenting you, Iris. And I don’t want to put in the work anymore. I’d rather forgive you instead.”
“Do you think you can?” I ask, hope rising inside me. I don’t expect to get back to where we were that night in the tent, when he kissed me and touched me and watched me as if I was the only thing in the world that he needed. But if we could be friends, if we could laugh with each other and joke around again, that would be enough.