Heart and Soul by Jackie May (reading list .TXT) 📗

a long time ago. Now? We’ve been together so long—literally together—that our voices…” He shakes his head again. “Sooner or later, she won’t be able to distinguish between us. I’ll still be there, but she won’t know it.”

A hard lump sticks in my throat. I take back what I said. I definitely cannot imagine the hell they are going through.

“But she’s still got something in her that…it’s something I never thought I wanted her to feel, but now I’ve changed my mind. I want it for her. I want her to have it.”

“What? What thing?”

He swallows hard. “It’s a thing that she felt…that she feels, I mean, when she looks at Brenner’s partner.”

I nearly shout, but at the last second I clamp a hand over my mouth. After a moment to calm myself, I hiss, “Russo?”

Matt stutters, “She…she…yeah, so…”

“Russo?”

“And he obviously feels the same. So it’s there for both of them. They’d…it would be good.”

“Matt, no.”

“Yes!” He draws himself up tall, summoning strength to go on. “I know what she feels, Shayne, and she tries to hide it from me, but she couldn’t ever lie to me, even before I was inside her damn head. These feelings are real, and they’re strong, and shit, they’re as surprising to her as they are to me, Shayne. It scares the hell out of her. She’s resisting it with everything she’s got.”

A realization hits me. “It was you. It was your will that Elle felt at Underworld. She said Charlotte was conflicted about dancing with Russo. Half of her was fighting it, but the other half was willing enough for Elle’s magic to take hold. That was your will.”

“Because I want this for her. This hasn’t happened before—not in all these years, not with all the men she’s met since me. And it may never happen again, so it’s just…it’s time.” He shrugs helplessly. Gulping for breath. “For me to…go.”

“You know what, this feels like something I shouldn’t be hearing.”

“It’s time. It is. Don’t, Shayne, don’t look at me like that. You’ve seen results with Brenner. You’ve seen it. Charlotte deserves the same.”

“The hell with that. Do you know what she would do if she thought I was involved with you leaving her? I won’t have any part of this. Wake her up.”

“Shayne.”

“We’re done here. Wake her up, Matt. Now.”

We stare each other down, as if it’s high noon. Faces red, breathing heavily. Matt points at me and says, “You promised.”

“Oh, cheap shot.”

“You promised to watch her back.”

“For you, I promised.”

“Fine! Then do it for me.”

“Do what? Clean up after your mess? Explain to Charlotte after you’re gone? Thanks, but no thanks. If you want to leave her, then leave her, but leave me out of it.”

“I can’t.”

“So don’t. Problem solved.”

“No, I mean I really can’t. It doesn’t work that way. Charlotte put me in here, so only she…” He hangs his head in his hands, defeated.

“Oh.” I try to think of something better to say, but all I can get out is, “Oh. Shit.”

“Shit is correct.”

“You can’t go unless she releases you? But Matt, listen to me. That’s…if she feels at all toward you what I feel for Jay…”

“She does. And that’s not me being arrogant. I can read her thoughts, remember? I can feel her feelings.”

“Okay, so…” I don’t know how to say this delicately. I’m sure he already knows, but I feel the need to vocalize it. “Matt, she’ll never…it’s impossible.”

“She won’t, I know it. Not if the thought comes from me. I told you, it’s getting more difficult for her to recognize my voice. She’ll think it’s just her own. She’ll push it away. But if it comes from you…”

I shudder. “Me?”

“Tell her I talked to you. Tell her she has to listen.” He pounds the table. “She has to do it.”

“No, I can’t do that.” Gathering the blanket, I leave the table and hurry for the stairs without looking back. “I’m sorry, okay? I just can’t.”

As I reach the top of the stairs, Jay’s cell phone alarm blares from the bedroom.

Witching hour.

The iron bars surrounding Elmwood cemetery keep humans from sneaking in after dark, but they’re no obstacle for a fox—even a large fox like me. The overstuffed purse I have clenched between my sharp, pointed teeth, however, is too fat—won’t go through, whichever way I turn it. Deciding that pulling is better than pushing, I drop the purse, squeeze myself between the bars with a slight shimmy to get my hips through, then turn around and latch my teeth onto the purse strap. I jerk on it, twist it, thrash it side to side, growling for good measure, and the bag pops through.

Elmwood is black and white, like an old horror film. Black trees, white snow. Black sky, white moon. I’m a colorful intruder of autumn reds and oranges, my thick coat bouncing as I trot. There’s a winding road through the cemetery, but it’s out in the open, so I forge my own path among the gravestones and shrubbery, where dense trees give me cover from above. An attack from the sky is a fox’s constant dread—too many blind spots from above, and what’s worse, flying things can’t be heard. Not until it’s too late.

It’s easy to spot the mausoleums, rising tall and square against fields of white snow. I carefully inspect each one. Many have neoclassic elements, but none are a match for the business card. I’m halfway through the cemetery when I find one that seems promising. Marble columns, yeah, but no steps or dome—a tree squirrel!

The chubby rodent darts for the nearest tree. I chase after it with a jumping gallop. I swipe at its bushy tail as it scrabbles up the tree trunk and out of reach. Paranoid little twerp. I wasn’t going to eat him; just bat him around a bit.

Another movement catches the corner of my eye. An enormous black shape lumbering among the tree trunks on the other side of a stone bridge. When I look,