His Mate, His Enemy novel · Chapter 4 of 24

Chapter 4: Nineteen Calls

Lorcan sat in the road all day.

I knew exactly how it felt, because the thread told me.

The gravel under him. The ache in his knees. The thirst he refused to do anything about.

By afternoon I had stopped pretending I wasn't watching from the kitchen window.

"He hasn't moved," Molly said, buttering toast at the counter.

"He's an idiot."

"He's a very large idiot who's going to get rained on."

"Good."

She pointed her knife at me.

"I like you. I'm saying that now so you don't think I'm about to lecture you."

"Are you about to lecture me?"

"God, no. I'm about to ask whether you want jam."

I took the jam.

Molly's kitchen was loud, and it was crowded with the things of a house where people actually lived.

A dog the size of a pony slept across the doorway. Three cousins argued over a card game at the table.

Nobody asked me how I was.

Someone just put a plate in front of me, and I ate.

It was the first time in a day that I had not wanted to scream.

Dane came in at dusk, shaking water off his coat.

"It's raining," he said, looking at nobody.

"Is it?" Molly said. "I hadn't noticed."

"He's still out there."

"We know."

"If he catches pneumonia on my road, I'll have to carry him inside."

"That would be unfortunate," Molly said, "for your back."

Dane looked at me.

I set down my fork and stood.

"I'll tell him to go home," I said.

"You don't have to," Dane said.

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