Revenant by Patti Larsen

bags of chips on the counter, her sparkly made-up gaze going out the window to Sage.
    I winked at her before returning to the car.
    He tears into the first sleeve of chicken salad, helping himself in alternate bites to a full chunk of beef jerky while I drive off. Half a mile later, I pull over to switch out the plates and we’re on our way again.
    But as I head back to the driver’s seat, I find Sage already claimed it.
    “You’re bagged,” he says. “And I’m fine.” He sounds it, and when I let my power touch him, realize he feels it, too. Almost chipper, his energy high, the scent of him almost happy. “I drive, you snooze.” I hesitate one last moment, whipping the bad plates into the woods on the side of the road. “Charlotte,” he says, voice dropping, “I mean it. I’m counting on you, remember?” Guilt. He uses guilt at a time like this. “Now, get in that seat and get some sleep before you fall over.”
    I pause still. There’s no telling when a new round of change could take over. But he’s well fed and rested and showing no signs of pain anymore. Could he be recovering? Impossible, but I do need sleep.
    “Wake me the moment something happens.” I fasten my seatbelt and recline, worried I’m making a terrible mistake.
    “You mean if,” Sage says, pulling out onto the country road, heading for the interstate.
    “I hope it’s ‘if’,” I say, closing my eyes, “but I know better.” And yet, luck has been on our side, has it not?
    Regardless of my worry, sleep comes quickly and easily.
    ***
    I open my eyes, wide awake, as the car comes to a halt. I sit up, find the sun is setting in front of us. A small building surrounded by a parking lot and picnic tables squats before us, several large trucks pulling in and out.
    A rest stop. I turn to Sage who unbuckles his belt. He smiles at me, but his face looks pale, cheeks bright at the bones with pink spots. I reach for him, but he dodges me.
    “Right back,” he says. He leaves me in the car, heading for the building and the washroom. I follow slowly, stretching out my muscles. He’s driven all day. I should have told him to wake me long before now. It’s clear he’s in pain again, from the washed-out look on his face.
    No more. I’m driving from here on in. The sleep I’ve gained has given me the momentum I need to see us through to California.
    I return to the car to find Sage in the back seat, eating again. He looks up as I climb in next to him. He’s parked us away from the lights surrounding the building, in a tiny pocket of darkness. I take the opportunity to snuggle up against him, happy to find a blanket on the floor at my feet. I pick at a sandwich while he finishes the rest of the food, my stomach happier for the sustenance.
    Done, I toss the container aside and sigh, sinking back against the seat. We need to go, but it’s comfortable here with him, quiet and dark and peaceful. Sage pulls me against him, shares the last of the food with me. Sweet chocolate does the rest of the job reviving me, as much as the water I splashed on my face, the damp paper towels I used to wipe down. It’s not a shower and fresh clothes, but it will do.
    “Charlotte.” I turn to look up at Sage. He’s staring down at me with a little smile, though he still seems pale to me. “In all of this, I’ve forgotten to thank you for saving my life.”
    “And don’t you forget it.” I poke him softly in the stomach, brushing chip crumbs from his shirt. “You’re welcome. But we’re not out of this yet.”
    Sage nods, pulling me closer. “Do you really think I can be healed?”
    I don’t know how to answer.
    “If you do,” he says, “I want to stay a werewolf.” His lips descending over mine. “So I can be with you forever. I love you, Charlotte.” He doesn’t give me the chance to answer, sadness crawling out of the pit in my gut. “But just in case it goes the other way,” he whispers over my mouth. “I want you to know how grateful I