He lifted her onto the bed and wrapped her up in the blanket, then strode into the bathroom. He came back with a damp rag and held it against her bleeding nose. Cradling her head in his lap, he rocked her gently. There was no call for an ambulance, no question, ‘What’s wrong?’
Suspicious, she whispered, “You know what this is?”
Wyatt wouldn’t meet her gaze now. Instead, his attention stayed glued to the washcloth against her nose.
“Wyatt?” she gritted out.
“It’s The Unrest.” Heartbreak slashed through his eyes. “Your dragon didn’t find her treasure. She never settled.”
“How do you know that?”
Wyatt shook his head and didn’t answer.
“How!”
“Because your grandfather told me.”
No. This was her burden to bear. Her sickness. Pop-Pop hadn’t gone through The Unrest. He’d been immortal most of his life and found his treasure a dozen times over in his eons on this earth. Her mother, Diem, hadn’t gone through The Unrest because she had found her mate early. She’d found her treasure. This…this was Harper’s shame, and her grandfather’s betrayal felt like a slap against cold skin. “Why would he do that?”
Wyatt looked sick, and now his eyes were that blazing blue again. “Because Damon wanted to let me know it’s my fault.”
“That’s not true.”
“Isn’t it?” The faint smell of rage wafted from Wyatt. “Beaston told me I would be the death of you, and now look. I failed to kill you the first time, and now you have The Unrest.”
“Wyatt—”
“That’s our fate, right?” His voice shook with fury. “Some people are born to hurt others, Harper. It’s the way of things. It’s how the world finds balance. There are good people and there are bad. From the moment I was born, I was meant to hurt you. And here you are, showing me kindness, despite the part I’m playing in your death.”
Harper pushed off him. “You can’t really believe that. You can’t. We’re all dying, Wyatt. From the day we’re born, we’re dying. That’s the beauty of mortality. Every moment means something big because they are numbered. You got scared of what you could mean to me, so yeah, I guess in a way, this is your fault. Even if my destiny was to fall to The Unrest, I would’ve rather been happy while I had life left to live.”
“I was trying to protect you—”
“You left to protect yourself! You left because shit got hard, Wyatt. You listened to Beaston’s prophecy, you listened to my grandfather, and you listened to everyone but me. Me! I was right there saying you were mine, and you left.”
She couldn’t do this. Friendship wasn’t going to work—she still felt too deeply for him. Stupid dragon, killing herself for love.
Harper’s breath hitched and her face crumpled. She would have to leave because she couldn’t stay here and hurt this badly. But she should say how she felt in case she never got another chance because she and Wyatt were both headed to hell fast. “When I lost her—”
“I can’t do this.” Wyatt stood in a rush and paced the other side of the bed, pulled on a gray T-shirt like he needed something to do other than look at Harper. “I don’t want to talk about her.”
“You have to.”
“I don’t. Can’t.” The room was heavy with dominance and smelled of fur.
“I wanted her—”
“I fucked up, Harper! I fucked up. Beaston told me to be careful with you, and I wasn’t. I should’ve used a condom every time, but I would lose my head around you. I couldn’t afford to do that. Not when every damned female dragon dies to bear young! My young.” Wyatt’s face fell, and his eyes rimmed with moisture. “She was mine, and she was going to kill you. Janey was mine, and she was the reason you were going to die.”
Harper ran the collar of her shirt over her wet cheeks and let off a pitiful sob. “She was beautiful.”
“Stop.”
“You should’ve looked at her! You should’ve been in Saratoga, visiting her grave with me, but you left me alone with all that hurt. I wanted her, Wyatt. I wanted her more than anything.”
“You were eighteen, and you were going to die for a baby.”
“Not just a baby. Our baby. Janey was ours.” Harper rested her back against the closet door and sighed. “I might have lived. Damon picked my birth grandmother carefully, and my mom had a twenty-five-percent chance of surviving. She said my chances were better. Fifty-percent maybe.”
Wyatt hooked his hands on his hips and shook his head, stared out the window. His jaw clenched so hard his muscles jumped there. “Fifty percent chance that I would lose you forever.”
Harper wiped her eyes again. “No, Wyatt. A fifty percent chance that I could’ve given you everything. I keep thinking what if I’d been able to keep her. I imagine us sometimes. Up in Saratoga with Janey, happy, a family. You would be logging with one of the crews, and I would have my law practice in town, and Janey would be growing up with the other kids in Damon’s mountains. The Unrest isn’t your fault, Wyatt. It’s mine for not being able to get her to air. You gave me my treasure when I was eighteen, and I couldn’t take care of it. Couldn’t protect it. I failed us. You reacted. I forgive you for everything. I just wanted to say that before I go. I forgive you.”