I didn't think I'd ever seen him this discombobulated. I touched his arm, trying to soothe him. I didn't want this to seem unpalatable to him, and right now he was uncomfortable. "In more ways than one. He got me out of the gang, into the program, and then when I wasn't happy with the candidates, he made them bring in more.
"So yes, I owe him a lot. I wouldn't have you if not for his busybody ways. I don't let him walk all over me, I promise I don't. But he's really not what you think of him. If he were, he'd have talked me into working with him when it would've been hard for me to say no. He could've done it, but he didn't. He gave me you."
"Well," said Tomas, expelling his breath and sitting down heavily. "I do have a better personality than he does, I'll grant you that."
I smiled then, because I could see he got it. I sat down next to him and leaned close.
He put his arms around me in a hug, and sighed. "I'll try to be civil to him, for your sake."
"You're always civil. Maybe you could try to like him?"
Tomas growled. "Don't push it, Riley."
I snuggled closer. "Please?"
"Don't give me puppy eyes. You're too huge to be a puppy."
I blinked at him mournfully a few times, and he laughed. "All right. I'll try."
The work day couldn't go fast enough for my liking—this evening, with Justin!—but it finally, finally ended and we drove home.
Tomas liked my car a lot, and he didn't mind if I drove. He did tell me to slow down a lot today, though.
But it turned out not to matter how many yellows I ran, because Justin wasn't there yet. The driveway was empty, and I felt my excitement slowly leaking away. "You don't think he forgot?"
"Now, how could he? Mr. Perfect." He shook his head. "He'll be here. Conferences are complicated. It probably ran late. Besides, he never promised to be here on the dot."
"Maybe he made other plans." I sighed.
"Don't be like that. Come on inside. We'll have supper. Then when he gets here, you guys can talk without interruption."
"But what if he's hungry, too?"
"I'll make extra, just in case, and if he doesn't want it, you can sneak out in the middle of the night and have leftovers, okay?"
"Okay." I sighed again.
"Don't lean against things and look tragic. Go for a run if you can't think of anything to do."
"But I might miss him."
"You won't. I'll text you the second I see his overconfident face."
"You will? Or his car, right? Pulling into the driveway?"
"Yes, or his car. Go on. It might help."
I agreed at last, changed out of work clothes and into running clothes, and went for a few turns around the neighborhood. It was taking forever for Justin to get here. I didn't know if I could bear it for another second.
It felt like I was holding my breath, or coming down with a fever. It was hard to convince my dread-filled heart that he hadn't changed his mind. He'd tell me if he had, right? Tomas seemed to think so. Tomas was pretty clever. But did he know about guys? Probably. Probably more than me, anyway.
I didn't know if I counted as a virgin or not, but I certainly hadn't dated anyone. Wasn't it kind of throwing myself into the deep end of the pool if my first boyfriend was Justin Barnes?
Then again, that's sort of how wolves roll. Go big or go home. And of course the ideal is always that you don't have to date many people before finding your one. A wolf who dates one person, finds their mate, and commits to a life together? That's a happy wolf right there.
I had no clue if Justin would want to date me, much less the rest of it. Tomas seemed convinced he could be interested in me, but I kept going back and forth on it till I was so confused I felt dizzy.
While I was on my fifth round of pounding the neighborhood's sidewalks to dust, my phone chimed. I stopped so hard I almost fell over, and then fumbled for it, dropped it so hard it cracked against the sidewalk and went skittering into the street.
With a yelp of despair, I dove after it—and then veered away as a car heading down the street crunched softly over it. I stared at my phone, blinked twice, and then scooped it up out of the street. I wouldn't be getting any more texts from this phone, poor thing.
But it had probably been Tomas, which meant Justin had arrived. I pocketed the phone for a decent burial later (or at least to retrieve my SIM card) and started back at a swift jog. Okay, possibly a run.
When I got there, Tomas and Justin were facing each other. Tomas wore an apron, which wasn't his best look, because it was one his mother had left after her visit. (She was an even better cook than he was.) The apron was small and pink with frilly edges, and very cute on her. It looked ridiculous on him, way too small and not his style at all.
He must've forgotten he was wearing it, because I'm pretty sure he wouldn't have been trying to look intimidating with that on, if he'd realized. He was on the top step looking down at Justin, and Justin was on the bottom step looking up at him. I could only see the back of Justin's head, not his expression. He had a beautiful back of the head, though.
Damn it. I wasn't going to get soppy! I mustn't. I didn't know yet if there was really any chance or not. Why make myself miserable if there wasn't? But knowing that didn't change the pounding of my heart, or stop the glad twist of my smile from turning into open-mouthed, panting joy.
"Justin!" I ran up to him, and he turned at the last second before I hugged him, lifting him off his feet a few inches.
"Whoa!" He laughed as he hugged me back, and he smelled so good, so real. The last time I'd seen him we'd eaten ice cream, and I hadn't known if I could stand to work with a cop or not. Now that was my job, my life.
It had been too long. I'd missed him so. More than I could stand. He'd just gotten here, and I already knew he wouldn't stay long enough, no matter how long he stayed. I was trembling a little as I put him down, but still smiling.
It was hard to remember I'd ever been annoyed with him about anything, when I looked at him. He had such a beautiful face, and he smelled so good, a maddening kind of good that both reassured me and made me squirrelly as hell, itchy and shivering and wobbly inside. It felt like going nuts, too many different feelings jammed into one person.
"Justin," I said again.
His smile was bright and a little cracked round the edges. "Riley. It's—good. You look good. Settled in." He cleared his throat. He smelled a little more upset than I'd have liked, so I hugged him again.
Finally I remembered to look up at Tomas, and he looked back at me with a doubtful, worried expression, like he felt sorry for me and wanted me not to be hurt.
I want that too. I'm just not sure either of us can do anything about it.
My feelings about Justin, confused though they were, seemed to keep getting stronger, not fading with time or easing with determination not to fall for him.
I had. It was too late.
Maybe it was inevitable, but I didn't think it was. I'm sure there was a point when his irritating personality, or the distance between us, would have done the trick. I'd just passed that turn-off point somewhere without knowing, and there was no turning back now.
I put an arm around him and led him up the steps. "Come inside. Eat with us," I said.
"I'm not—yes, okay. I'll eat with you." He leaned against me a little as we walked. It was such a comfortable feeling—and not comfortable at all, too.
Tomas watched our approach, looking like he had a bad taste in his mouth. His expression was reserved, to say the least. I gave him a pleading look. He ducked back inside, sighing.
Inside, I helped set the table for three people, took Tomas's apron off him, and told him how good everything smelled. All the while I was almost painfully aware of Justin's presence.
I wanted to act normal and calm around him, but probably seemed weirder than ever. I could feel him taking in the surroundings, familiarizing himself with our home, watching the two of us together. It made me self-conscious. Was he judging us? Did he not lik
e something about the place, or us, or me? He was being uncharacteristically quiet.
Finally we sat down.
Tomas had sliced steak meat very thin and fried it with lots of green peppers and onions, the way he knew I particularly liked it. White rice, corn chips, and salsa made a wonderful meal. We finished off with big bowls of ice cream with blueberries on top. Tomas was an excellent cook.
We ate every bite, taking the food seriously, though I noticed I somehow managed to eat more than the two of them combined.
"That was delicious," said Justin at last, leaning back and looking as though he meant that. (Well. How could he not?)
"So," began Tomas, and I could just feel that he was going to ruin everything before I had any time with Justin at all. I gave him a hard look and shook my head slightly.
Tomas fell silent, but the look he gave me back said, "Be careful. I don't want you getting hurt." We knew each other's looks pretty well by now, but Justin, watching, seemed unnerved.
Justin's hands twitched, turning his cup of water round and round. He was taking us in. What was he getting from the silent discussion? He was good at reading people. Whatever he saw seemed to be making him uneasy.
Tomas got up and slapped down his napkin. "Perhaps you two would like to talk alone. I'm going for a jog."
"Right after eating?" I said. Tomas usually didn't feel good if he did strenuous activity after a big meal. It was one reason he ate a light lunch—in case we had to do anything athletic on the job, although we rarely did.
"Yep," said Tomas, biting off the word, almost making it into a growl. He didn't look at me as he left the room, fast.
I looked around at the table. There wasn't a bite of leftovers, and cleaning up was my job, anyway. "Okay. See you soon?" I called after him.
The door to his bedroom shut hard.
Justin looked at me. "Is he off the table? As a topic of conversation, I mean?"
I got up and began clearing away the dishes. Somehow it was easier not to look Justin in the face right now, with those sober, sad eyes watching me so closely. I generally didn't like his overconfident side, but I sure didn't like this side of him, either. Today he didn't seem confident enough.
I shrugged one shoulder. "No, but did you really come all this way just to talk about Tommy?"
"Tommy." That seemed to depress him more than ever.
I gave him a worried look. "What's wrong with you?"
"Nothing. You're eating, you seem happy, you've got a...a friend, your job is going well. Everything's great, why wouldn't it be?"
I narrowed my eyes at him. "Who says my job's going well?"
He rolled his eyes. "Tomas. And you. And I have eyes, don't I? You're clearly thriving."
I had to admit that was probably true. I was easier in my own skin lately, less inclined to get jumpy for no reason. Today I'd even broken my phone and hadn't panicked about it. Remembering, I pulled it out of my pocket and laid it on the table before finishing up the clearing off.
"What's that?"
"My phone. I dropped it, and then it got run over. I was in too much of a hurry to answer and this happened instead."
"Just now? Today?"
I nodded. "Tomas said he'd text me when you got here."
"Ah," said Justin, straightening up a little. "You were looking forward to seeing me, then."
"You know I was." I couldn't look at him; I couldn't. Was he teasing me? I didn't like it, if so.
"Are you glad you ended up taking this job? You seem to be thriving, but I feel like there's something you're not telling me."
No shit. His prying eyes were at it again. But for the moment, I was glad. "I wanted you there at graduation," I blurted out, and felt my face getting hot. It was embarrassing to admit to such weakness. "I thought I could handle it, but I almost didn't get through it."
"Ah," said Justin. "I told you I couldn't make it, didn't I? At least not without a heroic effort."
"I didn't want to be a bother," I admitted, staring at the floor. "We were sort of arguing. We spoke about mixed messages. I was feeling pretty mixed message-y about it all. But I wanted you there, and I didn't ask."
"I'm sorry. I could have made it easier to ask, instead of sounding like you were inconveniencing me." He seemed genuinely regretful, willing to take part of the blame, not thinking I was an idiot at all. "What happened?" His voice was soft, and his gaze didn't leave my face.
I moved my hands awkwardly, staring down at them. "Froze up, on stage. Tomas had to walk me off. But I got to keep him afterwards." I looked up then, feeling like I was halfway between laughing and crying.
I couldn't explain the hurt, irritated, longing, defiant, mixed-up way I'd felt when Justin wasn't there to support me. I hadn't wanted him to rescue me, or be the one to walk me off, or anything of the sort. But I'd wanted him to be there.
And did he know why? Was he going to tactfully ignore that? I wished he would...but I also wished one of us was brave enough to bring it up, the way Tomas suggested.
It probably wasn't going to be me. He wasn't the sort of guy to purposefully embarrass me by making me talk about my crush, either. Most likely, he hoped it would die a natural death and he'd never have to talk about such an undignified subject.
"I'm sorry, Riley." He sounded so sincere it hurt. "I got you into the program. The least I could have done was be there for you during graduation. I didn't realize it mattered—but of course it mattered. I'm sorry I didn't figure that out. Of course you couldn't ask me, after I'd just said it would be difficult and that you should've said something earlier."
I looked away from him, wiping my eyes. I wished I were one of those strong people who would always say what I needed and not be cowed into silence by my insecurities and fears. Then he wouldn't have to guess, or read me, or anything like that.
"Riley. I really am sorry."
I nodded vaguely.
"May I hug you? You look like you really need a hug."
I nodded. I didn't want him seeing me as pathetic, but, well, hugs.
He held me tightly, and I breathed in and reveled in all the goodness of Justin that I'd been missing on a visceral level. He felt good in my arms, so right.
It hurt to know this was probably the closest I'd ever get to him. Would my feelings truly fade in time? I knew very well you couldn't make someone love you back.
When he drew back, holding me at arm's length, his gaze searched mine, roving all over my face, my posture, everything. I felt naked before him, but couldn't make myself look away. This was my Justin, and I needed to cherish every moment with him, no matter how brief.
At least for once we weren't arguing about anything.
He seemed to gather himself for a moment, bracing himself. "So, Riley, I need to ask you something. Yes, it's personal, but I swear I have a reason. So please don't tell me off for asking, okay?"
"Okay," I said. (Did he really think I was capable of telling anyone off at the moment? I felt about as confident as a piece of limp white bread.) "You're making me nervous now." What would be so bad that he had to ask me not to get upset about it? Usually he just asked any old thing without a thought.
He straightened up and met my gaze squarely, as if bracing himself for something difficult. "Are you seeing anyone? Dating Tomas, or anyone? And I mean dating in whatever way you want to define it, not me."
"No. No." I shook my head. "Why would you ask that again? I said I'd tell you if—" Ah, I'd said I'd tell him if I found my mate, not if I started dating. "Oh. Okay. No, I'm not dating or seeing anyone." Apparently you needed to be very clear with Justin. "I don't have a fuck buddy, a significant other, or someone where 'it's complicated.' I'm completely—completely—single." It seemed important to make that clear, even if I never told him how I felt about him.
He nodded, but he was still braced, and he smelled almost scared. His smile flitted across his face, but was gone quickly. His eyes seemed to bore into mine. "Then I have something else to say. I'd like to put this on th
e table. I'm interested in dating you. If you were ever interested, I mean."
For a moment, I could only stare. Really? He'd just said... Maybe I'm imagining things.
He went on quickly. "No pressure. Nothing has to change between us, if you don't see me that way. And, of course, if you were interested, you could set whatever boundaries you were comfortable with, and I would abide by them."
He was talking rather fast. "Don't feel obligated or pressured. It's one option of many. I'm sure a guy like you could do very well for yourself, if or when you decided to find someone. It needn't be me, of course."
I stared at him. All my dreaded confessions, now irrelevant, because he'd gotten there first. Tomas had been right. Oh, thank goodness, Tomas had been right!
I sat down facing Justin and reached across the table to take his hand. "I'd like to date you," I told him. "I'd like that very much." I thought of the conversation we'd just had, how pathetic I must seem to him. "But do you think of me as competent enough to date? Sometimes you think I can't handle the simplest of things." I searched his gaze. Sometimes it was true, of course, but it certainly wasn't the way to pick a boyfriend.
He jerked back as if slapped. "Is that how I come across? No. Not at all. I worry about you, of course, but—" He stopped, pausing, considering, chewing over his words. "It's because I care, not because I think you're incompetent. I'd like to make things easier for you where I can, and I suppose I get carried away. I did feel extremely responsible for you in the beginning."
"But I'm not just a project to you?" I checked. "At least, not anymore?"
He shook his head slowly. "You're not a project at all. But seeing you here, with Tomas—are you sure I'm not interrupting something? It's so cozy and domestic, and he's very protective of you."
"I need him to be, for work, at least. I don't think I could do this job without him. But no, it's not like that for us. Neither of us wants to sleep together—that way."
"That way?" He looked amused. "Is there another?"
"Well, sometimes I shift into my wolf form and go to sleep on his bed. It's...nice, but maybe not very restful for him."
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