Every Which Way But Dead by Kim Harrison Page B

want to be with you. Maybe for the rest of my life. I don’t know. But every time you tap a line, I feel it, and it’s as if I’m back in that FIB cruiser having an epileptic seizure from the line you pulled through me. I can’t breathe. I can’t think. I can’t do anything. When I’m farther away, it’s easier. I need to be away for a while. I didn’t tell you because I didn’t want you to feel bad.”
    Face cold, I could say nothing. He never told me I had made him seize. God help me, I hadn’t known. Jenks had been with him. Why hadn’t he told me?
    â€œI have to catch my breath,” he whispered, giving my hands a squeeze. “To go a few days without remembering that.”
    â€œI’ll stop,” I said, panicking. “I won’t tap a line again. Nick, you don’t have to leave!”
    â€œYes, I do.” Dropping my hands, he touched my jawline. His smile was pained. “I want you to pull on a line. I want you to practice. Ley line magic is going to save your life someday, and I want you to become the best damned ley line witch Cincinnati has.” He took a breath. “But I have to put some distance between us. Just for a while. And I have some business of out of state. It has nothing to do with you. I’ll be back.”
    But he had said August. “You’re not coming back,” I said, my throat closing. “You’ll come for your books, and then you’ll be gone.”
    â€œRachel—”
    â€œNo.” I turned away. The key was cold in my hand, cutting into my palm. Breathe, I reminded myself. “Just go. I’ll bring Jax over tomorrow. Just go.”
    I shut my eyes when he put a hand on my shoulder, but I wouldn’t turn. They flashed open when he leaned closer and the scent of musty books and new electronics filled me. “Thank you, Rachel,” he whispered, and there was the lightest touch of lips on mine. “I’m not leaving you. I’ll be back.”
    I held my breath and stared at the ugly gray carpet. I wouldn’t cry, damn it. I wouldn’t.
    I heard him hesitate, then the soft thumps of his boots on the stairs. My head started to hurt as the muted rumble of his truck vibrated the window at the end of the hall. I waited until I couldn’t hear it anymore before I turned to follow him out, my steps slow and unseeing.
    I’d done it again.

Seven
    I pulled my car carefully into the tiny garage, turning off the lights and then the engine. Depressed, I stared at the spackled wall two feet in front of the grille. Silence soaked in, broken by the ticking of the engine cooling off. Ivy’s bike rested quietly against the side wall, covered in a canvas tarp and stored for the winter. It was going to be dark soon. I knew I should get Jenks inside, but it was hard to find the will to unbuckle my belt and get out of the car.
    Jenks dropped to the steering wheel with an attention-getting hum. My hands fell into my lap, shoulders slumping. “Well, at least you know where you stand now,” he offered.
    My frustration flared, then died, overwhelmed by a wave of apathy. “He said he’s coming back,” I said glumly, needing to believe the lie until I hardened myself to the truth.
    Jenks wrapped his arms about himself, dragonfly wings still. “Rache,” he cajoled. “I like Nick, but you’re going to get two calls. One where he says he misses you and is feeling better, and the last when he says he’s sorry and asks you to give his key to his landlord for him.”
    I looked at the wall. “Just let me be stupid and believe him for a while, okay?”
    The pixy made a sound of wry agreement. He looked positively chilled, his wings almost black as he hunched, shivering. I’d pushed him past his limits by detouring to Nick’s. I was definitely going to make cookies tonight. He shouldn’t go to sleep cold like that. He might not