by Bru Baker
Tate disappeared back into the bathroom and Adrian tugged on a pair of shorts and a shirt. The temptation to keep walking straight out the cabin’s front door and avoid whatever conversation was coming was strong, but he wouldn’t do that to Tate. What was Tate so afraid to tell him? Adrian pulled his phone out of his pocket and shot off a text to his sister.
Hypothetically, if I told you I’d met my moonmate, what would you say?
He sat on the couch to stop himself from pacing, but he was too nervous to be still. He jiggled his leg while he waited for Tate, whose bedroom door remained closed. His phone dinged.
Um, other than call you a cradle robber?
Adrian barked out a laugh.
Get your mind out of the gutter. He’s 32. Technically he would be the cradle robber in this situation, not me.
He hadn’t told his sister or anyone else back home how close he and Tate had grown, and he realized now he’d been hiding him. Just as Tate thought he would. Not because he was worried about what his family would think of Tate, but because he wanted to sort out his own muddled feelings first. Texting Eliza was a big step. He was all in on this, no matter what Tate came through that door and said.
That doesn’t sound very hypothetical.
He started to reply but then a barrage of texts came in.
HOLY SHIT ADRIAN
Moonmate? For real? Those are actually a thing?!?
Adrian blew out a relieved breath. That was exactly the response he’d been hoping his sister would have. Tate’s door creaked open, and Adrian looked up to see him standing on the threshold. His hair was spiky where he’d pulled his shirt on without fixing it, and he looked sad and lost.
Gotta go. Details later. DO NOT TELL MOM.
She would, of course. It would save Adrian the trouble, but by telling her not to, he could take the moral high ground about it later if everything went to shit with his family.
Chapter Eighteen
ADRIAN had been furiously texting with someone when Tate had opened the door, but he stood up and shoved his phone in his pocket as soon as Tate came in. It pinged again, but Adrian ignored it.
“No matter what you have to tell me, it’s not going to change how I feel about you. We’re moonmates, Tate. That’s… I don’t know. Biology? Fate? But we’re more than that. I don’t want you just because my instincts tell me you’re my mate. I want you because you’re funny and warm and attractive as hell. It’s not just the bond, Tate.”
Tate had worked himself into a frenzy of worry while he’d gotten dressed, convinced Adrian would run off again. Opening the door and seeing an empty living room would have been a bad blow.
Adrian’s rant was exactly what he needed to hear.
“My father is a polygamist,” Tate said. Best to dive straight in. Rip the Band-Aid off in one go. “My mother was one of his five moonmates. He’s probably taken more since I left. Hell, maybe he married the girl he’d picked out as my moonmate right after my Turn.”
Adrian’s mouth opened, but Tate pushed on. He needed to get this all out before he lost his nerve. “I didn’t think moonmates were real. Shit, I’m still not sure. But I do know that when I walked into your hospital room, the aching emptiness I’ve lived with for my entire life went away. I can’t describe how terrifying that was. It was like a piece of me was missing. A piece I hated, but it was still like losing a limb.”
He started to pace, full of nervous energy and desperate not to have to watch Adrian as all of this sank in.
“I’ve always dealt with my past by suppressing it. Not in an unhealthy way, or at least, not most of the time. But by not dwelling on it and instead focusing on who I am now. But when I realized we could be moonmates—for real, not the mindfuck version my father uses to brainwash his wives--it brought everything back. All the negative emotions from my childhood, all the fear and disgust.”
He forced himself to stop and look at Adrian. “My father was an abusive asshole who used the fairy tale of moonmating to convince young women they were destined to be with him. So not only did I not believe in moonmates, I didn’t believe in love. I couldn’t ever imagine attaching myself to another person—until I met you. And I realize now that love isn’t about shackling yourself to someone, it’s about sharing yourself with someone. And if you’re still willing to do that after everything I’ve just dumped on you, then I’m willing to try too.”
He was a bit surprised Adrian hadn’t recoiled in horror. Whenever Tate had envisioned telling someone about his childhood and the environment he grew up in, he’d imagined shock and condemnation. Not the soft look Adrian was giving him now.
“So, yeah,” Tate said, winding down. “That’s my big dark secret.”
Adrian broke into a goofy grin. “You love me. You accept our moonmate bond.”
Tate scratched the back of his neck, uncomfortable. “I do, but that wasn’t the point.”
“That was the entire point,” Adrian said. “Everything else is important because it’s part of your story, but it’s not our story. Our story started with the most gorgeous man I’ve ever seen walking into a hospital room when I was scraped up, dirty, and wearing an assless gown. And he looked at me and found something he hadn’t known he was missing. That’s a hell of a thing, Tate.”
Huh. Put like that, it kind of was.
“That’s one of the things I love about you,” Tate said, grinning when the word made Adrian’s cheeks flush a pretty pink. “You have this optimism about the world that stuns me.”
“Well, moonmates are supposed to be the perfect complement to each other,” Adrian said with a sly smile.
“I think that was an insult, but I’m going to let it go.” Tate was bubbling over with happiness. He’d literally never felt like this before. It wasn’t like all of his problems had just vanished. They hadn’t. But there was a lightness to the burden that hadn’t been there a minute ago. Maybe this was what sharing the load felt like. That was what a moonmate was for, after all. To strengthen you and support you.
A loud banging at his door ruined the moment, and Tate stalked over to it and whipped the door open, ready to take a chunk out of whoever was on the other side. He pulled up short when he saw Kenya’s worried face.
“Ryan’s gone.”
“What do you mean, gone?”
“I mean gone. His bunk is empty. He took his luggage. No one knows where he went, but the security camera footage shows him leaving by the front gate and walking off.”
Tate silently cursed Ryan’s timing. He turned to apologize to Adrian. “I have to go. Stay here and I’ll—”
“I’m going with you.” Adrian had already put his shoes on. He handed Tate a pair of tennis shoes.
That’s all he needed—two wolflings on the loose. “You aren’t ready to leave camp yet. Besides, I don’t know what kind of mess we’re going to find, and I don’t want you caught up in it.”
“You don’t know what kind of mess you’re going to find, which is exactly why you need me there. I’m the head of marketing for a multinational company, Tate. I can talk my way out of anything. If we find him and he’s in some sort of trouble, we’re going to need to be able to think on our feet and spin some sort of story. I’m ready. I can do this.”
This take-charge Adrian wasn’t one Tate had seen before, and he liked him. Adrian was usually so easygoing—hearing some steel in his voice sent an inappropriate shiver down Tate’s spine. He filed that away as something to explore later, because right now they had a distressed teenage werewolf on the lam.
Tate studied Adrian, taking in the set of his jaw and the stiffness of his shoulders. He wasn’t going to back down. Maybe he was right. Maybe he was ready.
“Think of it as a Werewolfing in the Community field trip,” Adrian said, and Tate couldn’t help but crack a smile.
“Fine.” He turned to Kenya. “Who else is out looking?”
“Harris has taken a van and headed toward Bloomington. We think he might try to hitch a ride, and that’s
the direction that makes the most sense. Liam took another car the opposite way, toward Columbus. He’s probably heading to an airport.”
Tate was sure that’s exactly where Ryan would go. He also knew exactly how he’d get there.
“Let’s go,” he said to Adrian, grabbing his keys off the rack near the door. “I’ll call when we have him. Has his Alpha been notified?”
Kenya nodded, and Tate cursed. Having his father breathing down his neck wasn’t going to help Ryan. If anything, it was going to make things worse.
“Anne Marie is handling that. You just go bring him back safely.”
Adrian and Tate took off for the parking lot at a jog, leaving Kenya at the cabin.
“You know where he is, don’t you?” Adrian asked, his breath coming in puffs as Tate pushed their speed.
There was a 90 percent chance of it. “The parking lot of the feed store about five miles from here,” he said. He unlocked his car and slid in, motioning for Adrian to do the same.
Adrian shot him a puzzled look. “And why would he be in the parking lot of a feed store?”
Tate grinned. “Because that’s where Wade picks up his Uber clients in town.”
Chapter Nineteen
ADRIAN had been out for a few runs in the forest surrounding the camp, but he’d been too preoccupied with running as a wolf to take much notice of his surroundings. He was enraptured by them now, though.
The drive to the feed store took them along a winding road set in the lush landscape of the Hoosier National Forest. It was early enough that most of the trees were still green, but a few early adopters had started turning vibrant yellows and reds. Adrian felt a pang of regret that he wouldn’t be here in a few weeks to see the forest in its full fall glory.
Adrian was disappointed when Tate pulled off into a mostly empty gravel parking lot. A monstrosity of a building with corrugated steel siding that made it look like an oversize shed loomed across the way. A fence of rough-hewn logs lined the edge of the lot nearest the store, and Ryan sat perched on one of them, his duffel bag at his feet.
The gravel crunched under the tires as Tate rolled to a stop a few feet away from him.
Tate got out and leaned casually against the hood. “Waiting for your Uber?”
Ryan’s jaw was set angrily. “You can’t stop me.”
“Nope,” Tate agreed easily. “But you probably want to consult your Alpha before you get on a plane.”
The color drained out of Ryan’s face. “You didn’t call him, did you?” He hopped off the fence post and grabbed Tate’s arm. “Did you?”
Sweat popped up across Ryan’s brow, and his hair started to lengthen. He was going to shift right here next to the wide selection of John Deere riding lawn mowers. A mountain of hay bales occupied the corner of the parking lot, and Adrian grabbed both Tate and Ryan by the arms and tugged them toward it. That way they’d at least have some cover if Ryan lost control.
“Hey, it’s okay,” he said. “We’re going to move this over here for some privacy, okay?”
Ryan went without protest, but the change of location didn’t stop the way his hair and nails were growing.
“They had to let him know because he’s worried about your safety,” Tate said when they’d reached the hay. “It isn’t safe for you to be in public yet. They didn’t call him as an Alpha, they called him as a parent.”
“There isn’t a difference,” Ryan sneered.
Ah. So Ryan’s angle was disaffected son of an Alpha? This was right up Adrian’s alley. He raised an eyebrow at Tate, who shrugged. Adrian took that as a sign it was okay for him to take over.
“Honestly? You’re probably right,” Adrian said. His frankness made Ryan stop pacing and make eye contact, which was a good sign. He could still stop his shift if Adrian could get him to calm down.
“Most people don’t understand how hard it is to be an Alpha’s kid. Everyone’s always watching you, waiting for you to screw up. And when you do, your dad comes down on you because he’s embarrassed. Or at least that’s what happens with my mom. She’s a big deal even among Alphas. It kind of sucks.”
Ryan kicked a pile of loose hay, sending dust swirling around them. It tickled at Adrian’s nose and made him want to cough. He didn’t, fighting to keep his features relaxed and neutral when what he really wanted to do was turn away and sneeze. Even something as benign as that could startle Ryan into a full shift.
“I can name like ten kids off the top of my head who would kill to be me. I don’t know why.” He kicked another pile and crossed his arms. “Even I don’t want to be me.”
That was heavier than anything Adrian was equipped to deal with, but Tate wasn’t rushing to step in and take over, so he must think things were going well. “I get it. Me? I didn’t Turn when I was nineteen. That’s why I’m here now, because it happened after all that time. But I had almost a decade of seeing the flash of disappointment in my mother’s eye every time she looked at me. And the gossip in the Pack, Jesus. I stopped going to Pack functions because I was tired of all the staring and whispering.”
Ryan’s lower lip trembled and he hugged himself tighter with his arms. The hair that had been thickening along Ryan’s sideburns started to thin out, which was a good sign.
“God, he’d have flipped his shit if I didn’t Turn.” Ryan shook his head. “It’s bad enough that I can’t get my act together and learn control.” He huffed out a bitter laugh. “He told the Pack I did so well the camp asked me to stay for another month as a counselor. Supportive, right? Like they didn’t all see through that.”
Adrian had no idea what to say to that. His situation was different. His mother was a crappy Alpha for him, but a good mom. He never doubted she supported him, even when she was disappointed in him.
Adrian cast a helpless look at Tate, who flashed him a brief, brilliant smile before stepping in.
“Your worth isn’t tied to what your father or your Pack thinks of you, Ryan. The only person in this world whose happiness you’re responsible for is yours.”
Ryan swiped at his eyes angrily, and Adrian was relieved to see his claws had retracted. He didn’t look like an out-of-control wolfling anymore—he just looked like a heartbroken kid. “I’m not happy, so apparently I can’t even get that right.”
“How could you be happy when you’re trying to live up to standards that aren’t yours?” Tate’s voice was gentle and soothing. He must be an incredible therapist, Adrian realized. He clearly loved helping people—he was more animated and at ease than Adrian had ever seen him. He’d heard the phrase “in your element” before, but he’d never fully understood it until now. Tate wasn’t just in his element—this was his element. This was where he could escape everything that plagued him and be Dr. Lewis instead of Tate.
Helping troubled werewolves gave Tate peace professionally, and Adrian wanted to help Tate find that in his personal life too.
Ryan’s eyes were wet and his breath stuttered, but he squared his shoulders and seemed to stand taller. “I don’t want to get a degree in accounting and go into business with my dad like my brothers did. I was supposed to have all year to work it out, but he called this morning to tell me he’d gotten my acceptance at Hofstra deferred so I could start in January since I was missing classes. I didn’t even know he’d applied to schools for me—he didn’t say anything, and I stupidly thought that meant he was listening for once.”
Ryan started pacing again, his voice becoming more strained. “I never learn. He tells me that all the time, but it’s true. I keep expecting something different.”
“Like Charlie Brown and the football,” Tate murmured, shaking his head. “We can’t change our past decisions, but we can let them inform our future ones. So take the life lesson and move on. You don’t have to start school in January if you don’t want to, Ryan. You’re legally an adult. You can choose your own path. That doesn’t mean you shouldn’t listen to those who are giving you guidance, but you ultimately are the one who has to live with
your decision.”
“He’ll cut me off.”
“He might,” Tate said. “And you’ll need to be prepared for that. But I can tell you there are far worse things. You’re a strong guy, Ryan. If that happens you’ll dust yourself off and start over. But don’t write your family and your Pack off just yet. You need to sit down and have a serious discussion with them. They might surprise you.”
Ryan blew out a breath. “How much trouble am I in for leaving?”
Tate raised an eyebrow. “Did you shift or tell anyone you were a werewolf on the way here?”
Ryan recoiled. “No! Of course not!”
“Then none,” Tate said with a wink. “You didn’t do anything wrong. You’re free to leave the camp whenever you want if you can control yourself. And you did.”
Ryan looked down at his hands, flexing his fingers and staring at them like he’d never seen them before. “I started to shift,” he said, his voice full of wonder.
“And then you stopped it,” Adrian said. “You pulled back. You figured it out, Ryan.”
Ryan met Adrian’s gaze, his lips curving into a smile so genuine it made Adrian’s heart ache.
“What now?” Ryan asked, looking at Tate.
“Now you get to choose. Am I taking you back to camp or to the airport? I’m afraid your Uber has been and gone. I heard Wade’s death trap rattle up about twenty minutes ago, and he left pretty soon after that.”
Ryan was quiet for a moment. “I want to go back to camp. I don’t think I’m ready to be out there yet.”
“That? That was a responsible choice, my friend,” Tate said, clapping a blushing Ryan on the back. “You’re already knocking this adulting thing out of the park.”
GETTING Ryan settled back into the camp took most of the afternoon, and it wasn’t until after dinner that Adrian found himself alone with Tate again. He felt the same spark of excitement being near him, but now there was more.