Chapter 16: Nine Years Late

I found him in the kitchen at six, fully dressed, with a cold cup of coffee in front of him.

The black notebook lay beside it, closed.

He had not slept.

I stood in the doorway in his shirt, with my hair in a knot.

"You left," I said.

"I couldn't lie next to you and not tell you." He didn't turn around. "You said to wait for morning. It's morning."

I sat down across from him.

My heart was hammering, and I let it.

"Tell me, then."

He pushed the notebook across the table.

I didn't touch it.

"Say it to me," I said. "I don't want to read it. I want to hear you."

He looked up.

His eyes were grey and red-rimmed and very steady.

"My father knew we were fated the day you walked into the hall," he said.

"He hid it, and he hid you. He meant to tell us both when you were grown. He died first."

"And you never knew."

"I felt it. I didn't know what it was." His throat moved. "There was a hole in me. I thought it was grief."

"The tea kept the bond quiet."

"On both sides." He held my eyes.

"I'm not saying that to excuse myself. I'm saying it because I want you to hear all of it from me."

I breathed in.

"Then tell me why you said it," I said. "On my first morning."

"Said what?"

"Don't get attached to anything here. It's a job."

He closed his eyes.

"I said it to myself," Alasdair said.

"My father walked a girl into my office with her hair pinned up and told me she would keep my ledgers."

"My wolf turned around inside me, and I didn't know why."

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