The Tracker's Mate: Sunderverse (Mate Tracker Book 1) by Ingrid Seymour (an ebook reader TXT) 📗

yes, you did. I just... I don’t know... the explosion and everything... it’s all moving so fast.” I glanced at Jake through a gap between my fingers.

He was still frowning, and I could tell he didn’t quite buy what I was saying.

“So we go now?” I said, half statement, half question.

He nodded.

“Where do we go? Ulfen’s house?”

“No. His house is a fortress. We wouldn’t get past the front gate. But I know where to find him.”

As we prepared to leave, Rosalina held my hands tightly. “Be careful,”

I gave her a reassuring squeeze. “I’ll do it just this once, then we get back on track.”

“I know.”

I left with Jake, fighting the conflicting emotions that crowded my chest and reminding myself that this was all about saving a life, and that couldn’t be a mistake.

Chapter 19

Jake sat in the passenger seat of my Camaro, which he’d pushed back to accommodate his long legs.

“I always loved this car,” he said, petting the dashboard as if the car were a dog.

I started the engine, frowning. “Where to?”

His comment had sounded as if he was reminiscing about the good ol’ times, and I didn’t like it. That past hurt. I wanted to look forward, get this over with, and escort Jake and all this nonsense back out of my life.

He sat back and buckled up. “Get on I-44. I’ll tell you where to get off.”

We drove in silence for several minutes. The air felt thick, and I couldn’t stop my hands from twisting over the wheel, making the leather squeak.

“That’s starting to drive me crazy,” he said as we got close to the Botanical Gardens exit.

“Sorry.” I popped a piece of gum into my mouth and started chewing, focusing on keeping my hands still.

Jake tapped his fingers on his thigh, bouncing his knee nervously. I got fixated on the movement, and it started to drive me crazy.

“Can you stop?” I glanced at his nervous leg.

“Oh, sorry.” He stopped and placed his hands flat on his thighs. He stared at them as if it were taking all his concentration to keep them still.

“This is awkward,” I finally said, feeling stupid. I hadn’t felt this inadequate in a very long time, and I didn’t like it.

“It is,” he admitted. I expected him to say more, but he just stared straight ahead. “Get off here.”

I exited the interstate and took a right on South Vanderventer Ave. As I drove, trying not to think of the huge elephant inside the Camaro, one of Dad’s pearls of wisdom came to me from the recesses of my memory.

“Always speak your mind, honey. I can’t read your thoughts, and if you let me guess what you’re thinking, I’ll probably guess wrong. So just tell me, what the hell is on your mind?”

I smiled to myself.

“Something funny?” Jake asked.

I shook my head. “Just remembering Dad and something he used to tell me all the time.”

He grew quiet again. A question buzzed inside my head, something I had asked the universe a thousand times after Jake left, except the universe had never answered. And now, the one person who could solve the puzzle was here, and I couldn’t bring myself to ask. The worst part was... I was afraid of what he might say, of how his explanation might undo me once more—even if I’d learned to love myself properly, and I thought I understood my worth.

But who was I kidding? I had to know.

“Why did you leave?” I blurted out.

“I wish I could—” he said at the same time but stopped abruptly. He let out a sad chuckle that was deep and throaty.

“It’s not funny.” I pressed on the brake and stopped at a red light.

“No, it isn’t. It’s anything but.”

He instructed me to take a right on Kentucky Ave and to park the car. We sat quietly for a moment after I shut off the engine.

I took a deep breath and let go of all the advice swimming in my head. It seemed like there were twenty people in there trying to tell me what to do. Dad, Mom, Daniella, Lucia, Rosalina, Tom. They’d all told me to forget Jake and not spend more time worrying about him. For better or worse, I stifled their murmurs and decided to just be me.

“I think we should talk,” I said, without glancing in his direction. “I’d like to talk, to understand.”

I waited for Jake’s answer, watching him out of the corner of my eye. His fingers were digging into his thighs, and the hints of claws flashed for an instant. That bad, huh?

“Never mind,” I said. “Just don’t get blood in Dad’s car, okay?”

Realizing what he was doing, he relaxed his hands. “I think talking will make things worse.”

“Excuse me?” Anger flared inside of me, and words crowded inside my mouth.

Of course, you think talking is going to make things worse and prefer disappearing off the face of the earth. And why not? It’s a hell of a lot easier.

That was what I wanted to say but anger didn’t let me articulate it. Clearly, here lay the proof that all the advice swimming in my head was there for a good reason. People much smarter than me had been kind enough to provide it because they knew the stuff I came up with on my own sucked.

“Just forget it,” I said. “It was just a brief moment of insanity that prompted me to ask.”

He ran a hand through his hair, and I could feel the frustration leaving his body in waves, like ripples in the water after a rock breaks its surface. His energy felt like a rocket ready to blast off into space, and with no way out, it seemed a distinct possibility he might blow up inside my car.

Just when I thought he might go all supernova on me, he let out a pent-up breath, and as if making a decision that had cost him dearly, he angled his body in my direction and looked me in