Chapter 49

Grace

The sun was slowly sinking on the horizon, casting a warm and soothing glow across the room. I stood by the window, watching as the golden rays painted the world outside with shades of orange and pink. A sense of calm washed over me.

The Festival was officially over. The days since then had crawled, walked, and sprinted by, and somehow, it was now New Year’s Eve. The blizzard had finally passed.

“Are you sure?” Jackson asked, shrugging on his jacket.

I smiled at him. “I’m absolutely sure. You’re already going to be crammed in there with all of your cousins, and honestly, I think we could all use a quiet night.”

He sighed. “Well, if you change your mind. You know how to find me.”

I nodded. “Have fun.”

I heard him leaving and took a deep breath. Cecil and Richard were already asleep. I was almost certain that Charles had done something to their food to get them to sleep so peacefully, but I didn’t know what it could be. As the evening deepened, I moved away from the window and made my way to the kitchen, where a pot of soup was gently bubbling away. I peeked inside, curious about what it was. It smelled so good, but it wasn’t what me and Cecil had eaten for dinner earlier.

I put the top back on and made myself a mug of tea. My thoughts wandered over the recent events. Dr. Thompson had a lot to say about the fact that Wolfe Medical hadn’t updated its equipment since she’d last been there, but she hadn’t asked about it in front of Jackson. She hadn’t asked about it yet at all since she took Charles up on the offer of an escort and went back to the Clan's territory for something. According to Charles, the Winter Moon Festival for lycans didn’t happen at the same time as it did for werewolves.

Charles... his presence lingered in the corners of my thoughts, a puzzle I was still trying to solve. Jackson's arrival had stirred emotions that I hadn't fully understood. His genuine friendship was a gift, but there was a lingering unease brewing in me. And then there was Charles, who had changed everything.

I walked away out of the kitchen and back to the living room to settle on the couch. Alone in the living room, I found myself drawn back to the window, my gaze fixed on the night sky as it darkened. Stars sparkled above, a canvas of possibilities and mysteries. My thoughts turned to Charles once again, his enigmatic behavior weighing on my mind. There was a connection between us that I couldn't ignore, a shared understanding that defied explanation.

Would he be back tonight? I had no idea. He hadn’t said, which was something else that was bothering me. Was it too much? Was I asking too much?

My phone buzzed on the coffee table, drawing my attention to a call from Eason.

“Get dressed, I’m calling Kelly. We’re going out for New Year's Eve.”

“Kelly’s out of town.”

He huffed. “Well, I’m sure we can find another babysitter.”

I chuckled. “I’d rather not.”

“Grace.”

“Nope. Charles is gone. Jackson is visiting his parents, and you have revelry to attend to. Let this older woman rest her bones, her heart, and have a quiet night in, alright?”

Eason huffed. “Fine… But only because you sound more like you’re about to go to sleep than cry.”

I laughed. “I have nothing to cry about today. Have fun.”

I hung up and set my phone aside. I leaned back on the couch and closed my eyes, savoring the stillness around me. The crackling of the fireplace and the gentle ticking of the clock on the wall created a soothing rhythm, a backdrop to my thoughts that were beginning to revolve around Charles again.

The distance had been driving me crazy because I couldn’t understand it. That flash of jealous red light in his eyes and my reaction to it was troubling. I wanted to ask him about it, to clear the air and find out what was truly going on, but he hadn’t sat still long enough for that to happen.

I shifted on the couch, my gaze drifting back toward the window. A part of me wished I could confide in Eason about my feelings and seek his advice on how to navigate this complex connection with Charles. But I knew that this was something I needed to address on my own.

The minutes ticked away, each passing second bringing me closer to the new year, and there was still no sign of Charles.

Then, the door opened and closed. I heard the rustling of a coat being hung up and slipped from the couch. I stepped into the hallways just as Charles loosened his tie and started to unbutton his shirt. He glanced at me.

“I thought Eason would be successful in enticing you out.”

“Not without a babysitting plan.”

His lips twitched. “I’m available.”

I took a deep breath. “Actually, I want to talk to you.”

The idea of confronting Charles felt both daunting and exhilarating. I wanted to understand his perspective to bridge the gap that had formed between us.

“Is something wrong?”

There’s something off between us," I said. "And I want to understand why."

He met my gaze, but I couldn’t read what he was feeling. The wall was there, and it was setting me more on edge by the second.

"Grace, I..."

"I just want you to know that you can be honest with me. We've become close, and whatever it is, I believe we can work through it."

Charles took a deep breath. “Let me get a cup of tea, and I’ll join you in the living room, hm?”

I nodded. My heart was racing as I took a seat and listened to him in the kitchen. I was nervous about what he would say, but I needed to know.

The crackling fire cast a warm and gentle light across the room, bathing me in its soothing glow. Charles came back and sat beside me, cradling a cup of tea that smelled really good.

“What is that?”

He smirked. “A special blend. Lycan seasonal. Want some?”

I nodded, leaning close as he offered the cup to me. I took a sip and hummed at the delightfully sweet and spicy taste. It wasn’t like anything I’d ever had before.

“You like it?”

I nodded. He offered me the cup. “We can trade if you like.”

I smiled, feeling warm and fuzzy as we traded mugs. Then, the silence surrounded us again.

“I can see you’re worried,” Charles said. “And I’m sorry for worrying you. I’m just… trying to parse through some things. I’d rather there be distance than me saying or doing something that will hurt you when you’ve done nothing to deserve that.”

I set my jaw. It felt like he was telling the truth, but only as much truth as he felt he needed.

“To be honest, I’ve never enjoyed this time of year.”

I frowned. “Why?”

“When I was nearing eighteen, my whole world changed between the 20(th) and 23(rd) of December,” I shook my head. “I didn’t even get to have a decent birthday.”

I blinked. “Your birthday is in December?”

“January,” he said with a smile and sipped from my mug. He grimaced and looked at it. “What did you do to the tea?”

I scowled at him. “I brewed it.”

“It’s green tea. You can’t just dump boiling water on it.”

“It’s tea! That’s how I’ve always made it.”

He shook his head and set the mug down. “If it’s the last thing I do, I’ll teach you not to murder your tea bags.”

I huffed as he laughed. “I didn’t know there were rules. The box says boiling water.”

“Add the value of better tea to the list, too,” he chuckled. “What were your New Year’s like?”

I sighed. “Well, there were more people living here. Lots of people. We’d have lots of food and all that, then we’d go to the pack countdown.”

“You’re not going this year?”

I smiled. “The ball is broken. I couldn’t get a technician out for it.” I shrugged. “There’s an event I organized, but it’s for young people without kids.”

He chuckled. “Maybe next year, then.”

I sighed and sat back, drinking his tea. I turned on the TV to where they were broadcasting the event. Midnight crawled towards us, and Charles got up.

“We need champagne for this.”

I laughed. “I don’t have any.”

“You don’t know you have any,” he said, darting into the kitchen with the mugs. “And it’s something you can’t murder.”

“Hey!”

He came back with two flutes and a bottle I had never seen.

“Is this some other delicious lycan thing?”

“It is.”

He sat down and popped the cork with a swift twist and pull before pouring us glasses.

As the final moments of the year slipped away, we toasted and listened to the celebration.

Charles shared stories of his childhood, of watching the night sky explode with colors and his family's laughter filling the air. I, in turn, reminisced about the times I spent with my father, how he used to tell me stories as we counted down to midnight, our own little tradition. Our voices were hushed. The warmth of the fire, the soft murmurs of conversation—it all felt like a cocoon of comfort, allowing us to momentarily escape the outside world.

The champagne was smooth and delicious on my tongue.

I looked at Charles, his features softened by the firelight. Before I could figure out what I wanted to say, Charles set down his glass and stood up, his movements graceful yet purposeful.

"I should turn in," he said, his voice a low rumble that resonated in the quiet room. “Early start tomorrow.”

I felt a pang of frustration as he stood, but I held back. The holidays were hard for him, even without my issues. Maybe… Just maybe things would go back to normal afterward.

A forced smile touched my lips as I replied, "Of course. Goodnight, Charles."

He nodded, his gaze lingering on me for a moment before he turned and headed toward the staircase. I watched his retreating figure, a knot of uncertainty forming in my chest. I wanted to understand him, to know what was causing this distance between us, but it seemed like he wasn't ready to open up about it.

Maybe he would never be.