Howl At The Moon: MM Shifter Romance

by Primrose, Ella

  Everyone who wasn’t paying attention before that moment certainly was after that. All other conversation ceased as the medical staff were summoned, and in the midst of the confusion Sam somehow ended up on the ground at Drew’s side, pressing his fingers frantically to Drew's throat, searching for a pulse. He could barely breathe himself, but upon examining Drew, he was at least satisfied that he was still alive and hadn’t just dropped dead.

  “Drew?” He whispered, letting his fingers linger over his pulse for a second before he stroked Drew’s jaw. He was scared out of his mind, hands trembling as he touched his lover’s face, the horrible notion that something might be wrong with him, that Drew might truly be sick or hurt settling in and refusing to go. What would he do without Drew? Sure, he was an independent person, capable of living his own life and making his own decisions and so on, but Drew and Sam were a team, damn it. They’d promised each other that.

  They'd bared their souls to each other, knew the ins and outs of one another's pasts and presents, and with all of that weight, they'd still promised to be part of each other's futures. In the three years they'd been together, their paths had become so entwined, he almost couldn't bear the thought of even trying to make it on his own, pathetic as it seemed. Drew couldn’t bail on Sam and leave him to navigate the world on his own. That wasn’t part of their deal.

  God, why weren’t they alone so he could say as much to him? Why did there have to be so many people witnessing his strung-out desperation as he shook Drew’s shoulders. They probably all thought he was some stupid, co-dependent freak, kneeling over him, begging him, pleading with him to wake up until the medics came and brushed him aside.

  He stood there, mere feet away as men wearing white latex gloves descended on Drew and formed a human barrier to keep prying eyes away. Nearby, Adrian stood with Cassius, whispering something to him. In the commotion, Sam was left standing alone, empty, frightened, and numb.

  Tyrone gave the order for the team to head out into the hallway, to give the medical team space. “We’ll head out to the field for some drills momentarily. Let’s take five and then regroup.”

  The men mulled around, dispersing somewhat, the entire hallway abuzz with worry over Drew and whatever medical situation was unfolding behind closed doors. Sam was noticeably distraught, skin still paler than it ought to be. He stared at the doors, could have bored holes into them if he’d had laser vision, so intense was his gaze. And so engrossed was he in his staring, that he didn’t immediately notice that there was someone standing right beside him until he felt an arm drape around his shoulder.

  “Hey,” Carson said quietly, leaning in. “It’s gonna be okay. He’s gonna be just fine.”

  Sam wanted to say something snippy or cruel, but instead he slowly turned to face Carson, lips set into a deep frown. His anger disappeared immediately though, once he was face to face with Carson, who even in the face of this strange moment of uncertainty, maintained his optimism somehow. Carson smiled then, looking younger, and more sweeter than he had any right to be, and he gave Sam’s shoulder a squeeze. Sam let himself breathe freely for a moment, and while he said nothing out loud, he was inwardly grateful for Carson’s intervention.

  A medic popped her head out into the hallway and gestured for Coach Emerson and a few of the other staff members to join them. Sam bit his lip as he anxiously watched them disappear, heart racing as he prayed silently for Drew to walk out through that door and make some stupid quip about Adrian being too slow to catch him or something.

  God, he’d give anything to hear that. He’d witnessed injuries before, seen all sorts of medical emergencies in his lifetime, but there was something so strange and unnerving about watching Drew collapse so suddenly. It touched a nerve, then toyed with it until Sam was so on edge that he was internally screaming.

  Instead, Coach Emerson emerged a minute later and announced that Drew would be taken to a hospital. The noise level jumped, with the men all riled up, confused and worried and unnerved by it all.

  “What’s wrong with him?” Ian asked on behalf of the group, using his most level, captain-like voice. “Is he all right?”

  “That’s still to be determined,” their coach responded, sounding rather grave. “Now please, gentlemen, I’d like you to head out to the field. We’ll continue our training outside in five minutes. Go on.” Emerson disappeared back into the room and shut the door.

  Though it took a moment or two for most of them to comply, the team started to make their way outside until only Sam (and Carson) remained.

  “Come on,” Carson said, arm still slung over Sam’s shoulder. “They’ll take good care of him.”

  “No,” Sam shook his head. “I’m going with him. I have to go with him.”

  Carson gave a small laugh of surprise, dark eyes growing large as he realized Sam was serious. He slinked around Sam so that they were face to face. “But you can’t! What about training? And the game?”

  “I probably won’t get to play anyway,” Sam insisted, absolutely determined. “I have to—”

  “You have to stay here.” Both Carson and Sam turned their heads sharply to see Drew standing in the doorway, steadied by one of the medics. He seemed out of sorts still, a strange pallor to his complexion. He looked generally unwell, and the goose egg on his forehead didn’t help things. Sam’s expression softened and he stepped toward his lover, wanting to examine him more closely, but the medic put up a gentle yet commanding hand to stop him coming any nearer. “Please give us some room.”

  Sam looked to Drew then, their eyes meeting. He wanted to put his arms around him, hold him, kiss him, forget himself and their surroundings, forget the rest of the world for a moment, spend a while comforting him and being comforted by him. But he didn’t make a move. He stayed still, willing Drew to miraculously feel well enough to stay, forget the hospital and all. “Drew?”

  “I need to lie down.” Drew said, swaying slightly against the medic, who held him in place. “You need to stay here and train. Don’t argue with me. Just do it.”

  “Drew.”

  “I have my phone,” Drew said, as if that ended the debate. “Don’t worry. Just…do you.”

  Sam still didn’t move, except his hands, which were balling into tight fists. He was strung up tight; wanted to snap at the medic and at Drew, to take his worry and frustration out on someone, anyone. Then, as if on cue, Carson was at his side again, speaking to Drew with an atypical amount of maturity. “You get some rest and feel better. Sam and I will room together tonight.”

  Drew would have scoffed at that, except he still felt woozy. So instead he gave a faint smile which Carson interpreted as one of thanks, before looking back to Sam. “I’ll text you.”

  Dumbfounded, Sam nodded, watching as the medic escorted him away.

  “We should get outside,” Carson said, nudging Sam in the ribs before heading toward where the rest of the team was gathering for practice. “Come on, before Perry blows a gasket.”

  Sam still didn’t move right away, hesitating slightly as he trotted to keep up with the younger man. He was so anxious, so uneasy. Even seeing Drew upright and talking had done very little to convince him that all would be well. After all, he’d collapsed like a rag doll. That wasn’t okay. That wasn’t okay at all. He had more questions than answers, even if Drew had promised to text him. And, how the hell was he supposed to carry on with training after all of this? His head definitely wouldn’t be in the game.

  Carson seemed to pick up on that, glancing over to him again. “Hey,” he said, just before they stepped out onto the field. “I meant what I said before, to Drew. I’ll stay with you tonight.”

  Sam wanted to frown, to decline the offer, but there was something so sincere in Carson’s expression, that he just didn’t have the heart to say no. He didn’t like feeling pitied any more than he liked anything else which had gone down that morning. But short of breaking down to Carson and confiding that the reason he was so dismayed over the situation was th
at because he and Drew had been romantically involved for the past few years, there wasn’t much he could do, besides putting his best foot forward and hoping Drew would text him back as soon as he could.

  And beyond that, it was Carson making the overtures. Carson was a good kid. Sam liked Carson. Maybe it wouldn’t be so bad to spend an evening with him. He could probably use a distraction himself, if the previous evening’s toast was any indication. So, Sam smiled and nodded. “Alright.”

  Carson gave Sam a toothy grin, as if to say, ‘leave it to me, I’ll take care of it’ and he sprinted off to join the others in their smaller training group. Sam ran quickly behind him, and did his very best to clear his mind of all thoughts unrelated to the smell of freshly cut grass, proper passing positioning, and the way the football felt so natural in his grip. If there was one cure for a troubled mind, it was life on the field, and Sam was ready to overmedicate himself with it.

  Chapter 19

  Ian & Carson

  After practice as the team filed out, Ian found himself instinctively seeking Carson out. He stayed in place, looking around the room while playing with his gloves as the other men meandered and chatted and the room slowly emptied. He wasn’t certain that Carson would linger, but waiting out the crowd would give him a better chance of snagging him, or at least making eye contact.

  After a minute or so though, Ian had lost Carson in the small but boisterous crowd and he had to admit to himself that he was slightly disappointed. Then, practically out of nowhere, the young man resurfaced on the opposite side of the room, looking around as if he was completely lost. Ian couldn’t help it if his face lit up a little. Carson had that strange effect on him, made his pulse skip around erratically and his breath catch in his throat.

  It took him a second or two, but Ian regained his casual form, adopting his signature unamused expression, brows knit into a perfectly annoyed scowl as the young man approached him.

  “Hey,” Carson said at last, a goofy smile on his face. Ian couldn’t honestly tell if whether he was smiling because he was nervous or if he was smiling because he had all the confidence in the world. Ian adored that stupid smile. “Hey, Ian. I was hoping we’d get a chance to talk."

  Ian wasn’t sure how he should respond. What was he meant to say to a grin like that? Hello seemed too stuffy. Hi, too casual. Maybe he could have parroted Carson’s greeting and tell him the truth, that he’d been hoping to talk to Carson for a while, too. Instead, he managed to pick the dullest reply he could, somehow managing to simultaneously look uninterested and concerned. It was quite a feat, even for Ian. “Carson. What’s the matter? What’s going on?”

  For his part, Carson seemed outwardly unfazed, scratching at his nose as he fidgeted a little. Though inwardly he was kicking himself. Carson? Really? Weren’t they past that sort of formality by now?

  Of course they were! Ian hadn’t called him anything but Carson in ages, so this new twist was especially jarring. But Carson remained resolved to press ahead. This was his chance to talk to Ian, to get his desperately needed fix, and he wasn’t about to squander the moment by being anxious about it.

  “Huh? Oh, no, nothing’s wrong. I just…it’s been so long since we had the chance to talk, you know? And I was just thinking…” His eyes met Ian’s and trailed off, suddenly nervous despite his resolve. What the hell was he doing, droning on like an idiot when Ian was clearly not interested and clearly had other important things to do? Very suddenly, Carson appeared small and insecure, mumbling the last bit, “Before I head back, I was thinking we could talk. You know, just to catch up."

  Meanwhile, Ian stared at Carson unsure what to make of him. This was becoming a common refrain for him, wasn’t it? Carson said or did something surprising, Ian stood there stupidly wondering what he should do. As a quarterback, he was finding his lack of swift reaction particularly alarming.

  Quickly though, he regained his senses and gave a sharp nod in response. Carson wanted to talk, to catch up, and Ian decided that he would do anything he could to see Carson’s foolish little smile again. He’d rather they talk about something more meaningful than the weather, but if that’s what Carson wanted to talk about, Ian would gladly oblige. So he smiled, eyes crinkling with real warmth and he nodded once again, “I’d like that, Carson. We could have breakfast together tomorrow. I’ll save you a seat.”

  Carson let out the breath he didn’t realize he was holding. “Yeah? But won’t Simon mind? You always eat together."

  Ian laughed at that, “I wouldn’t worry about Simon finding someone to eat breakfast with. He’s never hurting for a meal partner.”

  “I guess that’s true,” Carson said, cracking a smile again.

  A thought occurred to Ian then, “By the way, you did a good thing volunteering to room with Sam tonight.”

  Carson’s expression seemed to falter a little. He'd actually completely forgotten all about the rooming situation, he’d been so lost in the enchanting darkness of Ian’s eyes. “Huh? Oh, oh yeah! It’s nothing, Ian, really. He just needed a little cheering up, that’s all.”

  “Hm, well, you’re good at cheering people up, Carson. I’m sure you’ll do a fine job of that tonight.” He meant it, too. Ian thought back to the first time he’d met Carson. He was scrawny and so young, with all those wild dark curls and his impish little smirk. Ian just knew he was only feigning naïveté and innocence but he could never quite put his finger on why it was. He’d seen something wicked in those big brown eyes, something which immediately set him on edge and set off all the warning bells in his head. Not the bad kind of warning bells, though. More like the sexy kind. And that realization made Ian even more uncomfortable.

  Dealing with Carson wasn’t like dealing with Simon. Simon seemed to plow into situations without thinking, hoping for the best with his most pleasing smile well in place. Carson wasn’t like Simon at all. He was an airhead, sure—no one could say the inane things he did or eat that many donuts with sprinkles without being a little flighty. But there was calculation there, too.

  Carson understood people. He knew what they needed and he told them what they wanted to hear. In some ways it made Carson the ideal man to play confidante and consoler. In other ways…well, Ian could certainly recognize just how dangerous that tendency could be, if only Carson were self-aware enough to see it himself.

  Ian was sure he’d never met anyone so oblivious to their own appeal in his entire life. Sometimes it seemed like Carson was trying to be awkward or difficult, like it was part of some weird oddball game. But Ian knew better. Carson didn’t mean to be provocative. He was just being himself, for better or for worse. He couldn’t change how the world reacted to him any more than Ian could fully suppress his own burgeoning crush on the kid.

  At that moment, Carson looked so demure and shy, Ian was almost convinced he could see a faint blush spread across his cheeks. If he weren’t so smitten, Ian would have rolled his eyes. Instead he found the kid too damn charming.

  “I do my best,” Carson said as he nibbled on his bottom lip. “And I’d do it for anyone here.”

  “I know,” Ian agreed, his expression matching Carson’s. “It’s the right thing to do, and if you hadn’t offered, I would have.”

  At that, Carson frowned, a wave of possession swelling up and threatening to take hold of him. Was this for real? Ian would want to room with Sam? What the hell? Of course it was the nice thing to do, but it didn’t mean he should have to sleep in a bed mere inches away from Sam.

  Sam had a way of making the prickliest of men into loyal puppies. Carson saw what happened to Drew. Drew was whipped, even if he and Sam weren’t actually sleeping together (which was a topic of hot debate among the rest of the team, Carson noted to himself.) He wasn’t about to let it happen to Ian. He was a damn saint;, he didn’t need to be led into a den of temptation. “Then it’s a good thing I’m here, right?”

  Ian didn’t catch Carson’s frown. He was busy trying to sort out his own mess of feelings. Sam’s se
ductive qualities hadn’t even factored into Ian’s thoughts. “Yes. It is good you’re here, Carson.” He smiled, almost fondly, still in teammate mode. “I think you should ask Sam to join us at breakfast tomorrow. I bet he’d like that.”

  “Yeah. I bet he would.” Jaw clenched, Carson then turned away from Ian, giving him a quick wave. “See you tomorrow,” he said, back still turned to him. He couldn’t believe Ian was so insistent on looking after Sam, like he was some sort of infant in need of protecting and coddling. It was unreal, not to mention totally unfair. Why didn’t Ian fuss over Carson, when Carson clearly had a better physique and a better sense of humor and was totally into him? Although, maybe it was time for another haircut...

  “Sure. Tomorrow.” Ian nodded, brows knit as he watched Carson head for the door. He still wasn’t sure what exactly was off about Carson right then, but he was looking forward to talking over breakfast. And while he’d prefer a chance to be able to talk to Carson alone, he was glad that Carson was looking after Sam. Sam looked so upset when Drew had taken ill, it would only benefit the team if they took the initiative and looked after him. That’s what teammates were for. It was good that Carson understood that no matter what, personal matters would take a backseat to the team.

  * * *

  Fabian slammed the door behind him as he stomped into the hotel room. From across the room, Tyrone looked up from his bag, raising an eyebrow. “Was that really necessary?” Tyrone asked, playing with his wristwatch.

  “Yes. Now can you please tell me what the hell that was all about?”

  Tyrone continued to busy himself with the contents of his suitcase. “What was what all about?”

  Fabian growled, marching over to him. “You’re way too smart to act this dumb, you know. No one ever believes you. So stop it.” Tyrone glanced up, lips quirking almost imperceptibly. “Why did you tell him about Daniel? What were you thinking?”