By the Pale Moonlight (Book One of the Moonlight Series) Read online

  The tenuous hold on my emotions at last slipped from my grasp. Shaking sobs wracked through my chest, and he pulled me into his arms as the evening's events flooded out of me.

  He peppered soft kisses along my hairline. "I'm so sorry," he muttered over and over.

  I shook my head and held tight to the safety line he offered, knowing he would be strong enough to keep us both afloat.

  Chapter 17

  Despite my injuries, it was Ty who suffered the roughest time over the next couple of days. He sank into himself, the weight of his guilt an unrelenting force that put a wedge of distance between us. He still stayed with me through the nights, but he was restless. We both were, each for our own reasons. Unable to give voice to our fears, we chose to simply not speak at all.

  Surprisingly, it was Melanie who helped get us through. Her determination to discover the truth kept us moving forward, and served as a focal point to distract us from getting lost to our fears and guilt. While Ty and I drifted through that first day back at school in a fog, she simply refused to get pulled into our funk.

  "Nothing's changed," she said, barely sparing either of us a glance as she took a seat at the lunch table beside me. "What happened...happened." At that, she did look at me, stealing a quick peek at my bruised cheek. Makeup hid most of the damage, but not completely. I slipped on sunglasses when I could, and strategically left my hair down to help shield myself from prying eyes. It had worked so far.

  My hands were another story. There was no way I could hide them short of wearing gloves. Not an option. In the end, I'd fallen back on my own general clumsiness, telling everyone I had biffed it on the pavement. Luckily, there weren't many people around to question my story.

  "My point is, we have to keep going," Melanie said, turning her attention to Ty. He sat with his shoulders slumped forward, his head down as he scribbled away in a notebook. I wasn't altogether sure he was actually doing any work, but for the moment I was content to leave him be. I knew he was listening.

  "You're right," I said, dropping my fork on the table. I had been pushing my food around anyway and hadn't managed more than a few bites. "We should get back to work."

  Melanie popped open a can of Coke and nodded as she took a sip. We'd made a point of not talking about things where prying ears might overhear. The lunchroom was a definite no-fly zone for a full-blown discussion.

  "My house after school?" I said, strangely rejuvenated.

  "Sounds good." Melanie glanced at Ty who still hadn't looked up from his work. "I've got a few ideas."

  "Same here." I couldn't help the small hit to my enthusiasm at Ty's silence. I tried not to let it show and pulled out the notebook that held our list of suspects. I drew a thick line through Caleb's name and tapped the end of my pencil against the page. Melanie raised an eyebrow, but nodded in agreement. No matter how sketchy the guy appeared to be, he'd had ample opportunity to harm me if that was his intent. The fact he hadn't spoke volumes to his innocence.

  Unfortunately, the same went for the group of boys who had attacked Ty and me, including David. None of them were a match for Ty, and I simply refused to believe they could've faked getting their asses kicked. I drew lines through their names as well.

  This left a few randoms that none of us had ever taken that seriously. Only one name stood out from the others. Carrie. Without thinking, I circled her name. Only when Melanie nudged me under the table did I glance up to see Ty's eyes focused on the list. It was the first sign of interest he had shown, but almost immediately, his jaw tightened and he looked away again.

  I swallowed and closed the notebook. Carrie wasn't a topic I cared to discuss again—especially with the tension that lay between Ty and me. Sooner or later, however, we would have to go there. I just hoped he would be receptive to what I had to say. Whether or not we wanted to face it, our time was running short. We couldn't afford to ignore any possible suspects—no matter our personal ties.

  As though sensing the direction of my thoughts, Ty stood and slung his backpack over his shoulder, not uttering so much as a goodbye before turning and heading toward the exit with a determined stride. I stood automatically and moved to follow him. Melanie stopped me with a firm hand on my arm.

  "Maybe you should leave him alone for a while," she said quietly. "He just needs time."

  I slid back onto the bench, unable to look at her just then. Heat rushed to my eyes, and I busied myself putting away my notebook, afraid I might cry if I spoke.

  "I'll talk to him, Mac. It'll be okay."

  I drew on my sunglasses and ran a hand through my hair to make it lay against my cheek again. Once I took in a few deep breaths, I nodded. With a parting squeeze to my hand, Melanie stood and hurried after Ty's retreating form.

  o0o

  True to my word, I did stay away. It wasn't easy. I glimpsed Ty in the hallway several times, and even sat ram-rod straight beside him through English class the next day. The silence between us felt weighted, and more than once tears brimmed to the surface, forcing me to turn away, concentrate on anything else lest they fall. Despite Melanie's assurances that he was working through things and would come around sooner or later, my world felt empty without him—less than what it should be.

  By the second day, all thoughts of waiting him out were gone. Regardless of what had happened between us over the course of the last couple of weeks, we had been friends our entire lives. The fact he was shutting me out at such a time was complete bullshit. After Melanie dropped me off at my house after yet another fruitless search at the library, I said to hell with it and marched straight through the trees separating our houses and pounded on his back door.

  Mrs. O'Neill opened the door, casually wiping her hands with a dish towel. She smiled when she saw it was me through the screen door. "If you're looking for Ty, he's back in the workshop."

  I took a reflexive step back. Wound up, I had expected Ty to answer. It took a moment for her words to register. I cast a quick glance at the shed. "Uh, thanks," I said, flashing her a distracted smile as I started to turn away. I didn't have a plan, and now that I faced an actual confrontation with Ty, I was having second thoughts. Maybe I should just leave him alone, stay away until he came to me.

  "Why don't you come in for a moment? I've made some iced tea."

  I jerked my chin back in her direction. "What?"

  She laughed, shouldering open the screen door. "Come in for a minute."

  "Uh...okay." I couldn't exactly tell her no. That I was on a mission to confront her son, the werewolf. I slipped inside and accepted the glass of tea she pressed into my hand. We took a seat at their kitchen table. Her eyes, the same green as Ty's, searched mine while I sipped my drink.

  "How's everything going with school and things?" she began.

  "Fine. You know—it's school." I glanced out the window, my thoughts miles ahead of the conversation. Surely she wouldn't keep me long. Then I'd have to march out to that shed and force Ty to speak to me. All of a sudden, my glass seemed to be emptying too quickly. I set it down abruptly, the glass making a hollow thud on the wooden table. Liquid sloshed over the side, and I mopped it up with my napkin.

  "Uh-huh." Mrs. O'Neill watched me go through this little act, clearly unimpressed. She sighed slightly and drummed her knuckles against the table top. "I'm going to cut to the chase. I know you and Ty are hiding something big. I also know Melanie's in on it."

  "I don't know what you mean," I blurted out—a little too quickly. "Nothing's going on." I forced myself to take another sip of tea, meeting her eyes over the rim. There was no possible way she could know the truth about Ty. I just needed to keep my mouth shut and get through the next few minutes.

  "I'm a mother, Makenna—and mothers have a sixth sense when it comes to their children. I know something's going on, and Ty is being very tight-lipped. So, I'm asking you to help me out here."

  I examined the place mats on the small wooden table. Mrs. O'Neill had a penchant for everything daisy. The small white flower
s graced every possible accessory and decoration in the kitchen—right down to the paper lining the shelves. It provided a very unusual setting for an inquisition.

  Of course she'd picked up on something. It was really only a matter of time before someone noticed our strange comings and goings. And Ty's mood as of late had to be sending up some serious red flags.

  In a way, it would be so easy to tell her — to unload everything on an adult who might be able to take some legitimate steps in helping him. But then again, what made me think she would be any more successful than we had been? Most likely, she would dismiss the story as crazy.

  In the end, that wasn't what stopped me from blurting out the entire truth. What stopped me was the realization that I couldn't betray Ty's confidence. If he wanted his parents to know, he would've told them—would tell them, if he decided it was best. For now, it was my secret to hold for him.

  "I'm not sure what you want me to say." Hoping this would buy me a few seconds, I racked my brain for a way out of this situation.

  "I'm just looking for the truth." She paused with her glass halfway to her lips. "Are you dating my son?" She sipped her drink and watched me through sparkling eyes.

  In the process of taking a drink from my own glass, I nearly choked. In many ways, this was far, far worse than confessing the truth about Ty being a werewolf. I think even my ears blushed as my thoughts shifted tracks.

  "Well...I...um..."

  "I'll take that as a yes." Mrs. O'Neill smiled. "I think it's wonderful." She stood, taking both of our glasses with her. I sat there, stunned.

  With her suspicions confirmed, she was quick to push me out the door. I found myself out on their back steps with my head spinning. She'd gotten the information out of me in less than three minutes flat. Heaven forbid she quiz me over something of vital importance.

  I took a deep breath and headed for the shed.

  I found Ty hunched over a rumbling machine. During our break, apparently he had decided it was time he continued assembling the shackles for the cellar. I took a seat behind him and couldn't help admiring the way his dexterous fingers worked the pieces. He had great hands.

  He didn't pause in his work, but he knew I was there. There was nothing else for me to do but wait. Gather my thoughts which seemed to have shot off in another direction once I was faced with Ty in the flesh. I wanted to go to him, wrap my arms around his waist, but I feared he might flinch away.

  At last, he clicked the machine off and removed his gloves. He didn't turn to me immediately, but took his time making sure all of his gear was in complete order. The way he methodically concentrated on the task made me certain he was choosing his words—that he was just as uncertain of facing me as I was of him.

  I cleared my throat. "You might have warned me about your mother."

  "Why would I need to do that?" he said, the words coming out with a slight rasp. He glanced at me briefly before picking up two small metal pieces and fitting them together on the table in front of him. If I thought it was difficult confronting him, that didn't begin to explain how uncomfortable he was talking to me. I wanted to run my hands along his face until I wiped away all the fear and guilt and self-loathing I saw in his eyes.

  How had we allowed ourselves to get to this place?

  With the two pieces of metal aligned, Ty pounded in a connecting pin. The corner of his mouth turned down in a slight frown with the effort. "Where'd she corner you?"

  So I hadn't been the only one. I swallowed, grasping on to this thread of conversation with a tight grip. "The kitchen. She had iced tea."

  He wiped his brow with his sleeve. "Ah, the famous come in for a quick drink ploy. Sucker." At that, the corner of his mouth quirked up.

  "Tell me about it," I said, willing him to turn and look at me.

  "So what's the verdict?" He began pounding on the pin with greater effort. Each hit of the mallet struck with a loud clang.

  "I didn't say anything, if that's what you mean."

  He pounded on the metal for a few beats longer. Dropping the hammer, he lifted the cuff and inspected his work closely. Satisfied, he set it aside and picked up another. "Our mothers are probably planning our wedding as we speak."

  "I'm afraid so." I wondered briefly if it were possible to die from having all of your blood rush to your face. Could your heart even technically keep beating?

  "How's it coming?" I said, moving to stand beside him at the table. Our shoulders brushed slightly, and to my great relief, he didn't step away. He wouldn't look at me either, but it was a start.

  "They should be ready for their inaugural run," he said, his hands resting on the table before him. I set mine beside his—close, but not touching. I immediately regretted it. His breathing seemed to stop and I felt him go tense beside me. The bruises and cuts on my knuckles were still evident. I had stopped bandaging them, deciding to leave them to the open air so they could begin to heal properly. I hadn't meant to remind of him of what had happened in this way, but there was no taking it back now. I left my hands where they were, and I could feel his eyes taking in the damage.

  "I've missed you," I said at last, the words more breath than sound. Unable to stand the distance between us any longer, I moved closer, resting my head against his shoulder. His body strummed with tension, but after the briefest of moments, he turned and pulled me into his arms.

  "I'm so sorry," he breathed into my hair, hugging me even tighter.

  I shook my head, refusing to let him blame himself. "It's over—I'm okay." My voice was thick and I realized too late I was crying. Ty brushed the hair away from my face, and for the first time in days, really looked at me. That only made the tears flow faster. Before he could pull away, I reached up and kissed him. It was the barest brush of my lips, but it was enough to keep him tethered to me in the moment. He started to tense, but then quickly regained his senses and kissed me back.

  The heat of our kiss intensified quickly. Before I knew it, he lifted me up to sit on the work table, scattering metal bits in all directions. I wrapped my legs around his waist, pulling him tight against me as all of the pain and anxiety of the past few days swept through us. His hands were first in my hair, at my waist, then at the small of my back, pulling me even closer. All sense of place and time flew away. I just knew I never wanted to let go.

  It was the soft clearing of a throat that at last broke us apart.

  Ty's mother stood in the doorway of the shed, her eyes carefully masked as she took in the sight before her. Ty whipped around, clearly caught off guard. His hair was standing on end, the result of my fingers running through it during the heat of our kiss. Ty's hand had been inching up my right thigh, and he quickly moved it away. Thankfully, he didn't step away from the table. His body acted as a human shield of shame, and I dropped my head so I didn't have to look at his mother's face.

  When no one spoke, I chanced a small peek over his shoulder. His mother seemed to be fighting a war with her emotions—part of her clearly found the situation hilarious, the other part of her probably wanted to put a stop to something that was about to get out of hand. In the end, she simply said, "Dinner will be ready in thirty minutes," and closed the door softly behind her.

  "Oh God," I said, burying my face in Ty's chest.

  A soft rumble of laughter went through him, and soon we were both laughing.

  "So much for your super senses," I said, choking on the words as a laugh escaped me.

  "I was a bit distracted," Ty said. That only sent us into another fit of laughter. When we had regained a semblance of control, Ty stepped back, allowing me to adjust my clothing. Thankfully everything had still been in place when his mother had made her appearance. A heat warmed me at the thought of what might have happened had she not interrupted. The same thoughts seemed to be coursing through Ty's mind, and he made a point of not looking at me until I had stepped down from the table. My arms were covered with grime and grease—evidence of all the places Ty had touched.

  "Time for a show
er," I said, trying to rub a particularly dark spot off the inside of my arm.

  "Ditto," Ty said, his cheeks flushing. "Make it a cold one."

  I bit my lip and quickly busied myself with trying to make myself as presentable as possible. There were some rags further down the table, and I grabbed one. This sent several metal bits in all directions. I froze, following the path of one as it made its way toward the edge—the hollow scrape of it as it rolled across the wood, the dull thud as it landed on the soft dirt floor. Ty went still behind me. I bent slowly to retrieve the small item from the ground, cupping it in my palm as reality came crashing back down.

  It was a bullet. Silver. One of dozens hidden beneath the cloth.

  I turned to him, at last finding my voice. "What is this?"

  Tension had returned to Ty's shoulders. He raised his eyes slowly. "Contingency plan."

  A small graphite mold lay cracked open on the table, several of its progeny now scattered nearby. I picked up another and rolled both bullets in my palm. They grated against each other, metal on metal. "Were you planning on telling me?"

  He paused and cast his eyes to the ground again. His silence was answer enough.

  "I see," I said.

  "I didn't want to upset you. We thought—"

  My head jerked up. "We? Melanie knows about this?"

  His lips pinched together in obvious annoyance with himself. "Yes. I asked her to get the materials for me."

  "Lovely." I slammed the silver bullets down on the table. "Afraid poor, fragile Makenna couldn't handle it, huh?"

  "It had to be done, Mac." He pulled on a pair of gloves and started gathering the scattered bullets. "Now, more than ever." A flash of guilt darkened his features.

  "You would never hurt me," I said.

  Ty quirked a brow, glancing at my hands—the bruise that was still fading on my cheek. "Clearly."

  His tone put a stop to any protest I might have made. But still, I couldn't accept defeat this easily. There was no way in hell I could point a loaded gun at him and fire. "There are other ways. There have to be."