Helping Ellie wasn’t that simple, either. Every evening, I went out looking for a woman I felt compelled to help. A woman who meant more to me than I remembered and who wanted me to stop.
“Friendships are complicated,” I said. Friendships and relationships.
Over against the fence, Sal huffed.
Jax looked at the axe. “What’s her problem?”
Sal found the little wolf’s attitude wanting. His alpha-ness was moot when it came to elves.
I chuckled. Of course Sal would only consider the elf part of this problem. “She also thinks you need to apologize to Akeyla,” I said.
Jax sighed and dropped his arms to his sides, but didn’t respond.
“I’m going to be straight with you,” I said. Maybe I needed to learn the same lesson. “I’m not going to talk down to you, son.” I wasn’t going to squat the way Maura did, though. Playing the physical hierarchy might get him to listen.
He nodded.
“When your mom went to college, what happened?” He needed to learn that no one’s ditch was isolated from the other ditches in the community.
“Dad drove to Fargo every full moon,” he said.
The deliberations around Axlam’s college years had been a major event in Alfheim. The pack had long wanted to increase their integration into mundane life, and to test living away from the central group. Axlam was the first candidate who had the will, creativity, and intelligence to try it.
The wolves and the elves made a plan and set up a schedule. Axlam made it through four years at the University of North Dakota in Fargo with zero mishaps. She graduated with honors, and came home with the training necessary to help Dag manage the city—and a mate.
“Or your mother drove home. That was not a small feat for either of them, or for the pack.” Axlam had come home from Fargo about the same time Maura had gone to Hawaii. “An elf always went with your father when your mother couldn’t come home.”
She’d had full buy-in. She’d had community help, and a mate capable of communicating with her about every aspect of the journey.
“Jax,” I said, “the point is that you will be asking a lot more of Akeyla than either of you realize right now.”
Was I asking more of Ellie than I realized? I forgot her every evening. I’d be forgetting her within the next half-hour for sure, once the sun fully descended behind the horizon.
And every morning, I yelled out for her anew. I wailed like a little kid who didn’t understand why my best friend had moved away.
“I know,” he said. “We’re kids and we don’t understand adult things.” His wolf reared up. “It’s not like we’re going to have a baby!” His innate wolf magic flared.
Babies, I thought. A possible family.
I set aside the thought and stared down his flaring magic. “I’m going to leave explaining that bit of your mate magic to your parents,” I said.
His wolf subsided, but this time, he did roll his eyes.
“My point,” I said, “is that one day you will be the alpha of your aspirations. And if you value yourself more than you do her, fated mate or not, you will lose your best friend.”
Was I even capable of carrying my own burden? How could I possibly understand Ellie's if I didn’t understand my own?
He blinked and his face contorted with kid confusion. His body tensed and his wolf magic reformed.
It snarled, not at me, but at the wider world—as if anger was creeping in to replace his inability to grasp what I said.
And I wondered if, once the concealments wiped my memory tonight, all I’d have left was my own creeping rage.
I would never allow that rage near Ellie. Had I already? Was that why she told me to go away?
Jax didn’t understand, but I sure understood allowing rage to kick away any sense of an overwhelming world. Rage was much easier to understand than other people’s needs. Rage always elicited fear, and other people’s fear was familiar. Other people’s fear I could control.
“Akeyla is mine,” he whispered.
Not good, I thought. “No,” I said.
He—and his wolf—frowned again.
“I know it feels like she is yours.” I needed to make this more concrete, or he’d get lost in his anger. “If Akeyla is going to skip a grade, she has to work extra hard and prove to her teacher that she can handle fifth grade next year, right?”
He nodded.
“Why would she do that?” I asked.
He stared at the Carlson house, but his wolf settled down into a contemplative shadow. “Because she likes school.”
“Yes,” I said. “You’re excellent at baseball, and good at school. Akeyla is excellent at school and good at baseball. You have common interests, but different preferences.”
He groaned. “She’s not good at baseball, Mr. Frank.”
I shrugged. “She could be, if she wanted to. She’s an elf.”
The frown returned.
“Jax, you demanded that Akeyla exchange her preferences for yours. How would you feel if she did that to you?”
His attention suddenly, utterly shifted away from me. He perked up and craned his neck to look around the house. “Mom and Dad are here.”
He wasn’t going to answer. Not with the distraction of his parents’ arrival. Hopefully he wouldn’t forget any of our exchange—the way I’d be forgetting about my moment with Ellie at the church. I’d forget, and not learn my lesson.
I counted three, two, one… and the faint glow of headlights swept the house. Axlam and Gerard pulled into the driveway.
“Do you understand what I mean?” I patted Jax’s shoulder. “You need to be more than a good friend, Jaxson. You need to be Akeyla’s best friend. Always.”
I still wasn’t sure he understood, but he and his wolf had calmed. At least he seemed to be contemplating what I said.
“Make sure you say good-bye to Akeyla and her mom,” I called. “Don’t forget your burger.”
He looked over his shoulder. “Thank you, Mr. Frank.” He ran toward the door.
I’d need to have a talk with Gerard and Axlam about our conversation. Maura, too. Hopefully I’d helped.
Sal
