Fated Desire

by Noah Harris

  “He’s on a lonely journey, I think. I miss him and those cubs,” Goodboy smiled, more brightly this time. “I miss having them around. Made me want to get mated, turn out a few of my own.”

  The idea of mating Goodboy is breathtaking. But off-topic. I nodded, with what I hoped was quiet poise, while I pulled it together. Good lord.

  Goodboy stretched his legs out like a cat in the sun, thinking hard.

  “It’s pride, isn’t it? It’s not even grief anymore.”

  Definitely my diagnosis. Embarrassed to have been brought so low. Then embarrassed for being embarrassed, and on and on.

  “Well. That’s even harder for me to work with, isn’t it?”

  Goodboy was a bit wistful about that but said it with a finality I didn’t want to hear.

  “There has to be a solution, Goodboy. You don’t cover up a blister, you drain it.”

  He nodded, but I wasn’t telling him anything new. The only new thing was that we were alone, so we could talk about it out loud without worrying about Christian. If there was anything I was missing, any blind spots, I’d see them now and hopefully, score a few points of my own.

  “Dominic, I need to be honest with you. A pack is like a living thing. When one of us is sick, the whole pack is sick. When one of us dies, we all lose something. I can only imagine Christian feels like we won’t leave him alone. The answer is that we can’t. Things will not be right until he and those cubs are part of us again.”

  I shook my head, unsure if I understood. Didn’t we run with them every full moon?

  “Those we love live on in the ones that love them. We lost Ernest too. We miss him too. Children are how we go on. The pack is alive in them, as Ernest is alive in them. This pride of his starves the pack of something we desperately need.”

  I had to shift in my seat. He wasn’t wrong, but he wasn’t right either.

  “Goodboy. I don’t know how much you know about my pack of origin.”

  He smiled sadly and nodded. Tooth & Claw isn’t the only pack that works that way.

  “I found identity, but not comfort. I got answers, but not love. That’s not Christian’s experience. We couldn’t have had more different journeys. He recognizes this pack as the basis of everything that’s good in him. So do I.”

  Goodboy nodded, less with pleasure than agreement.

  “But one thing I have learned this year is that being forgiven, coming home, receiving love, is the hardest thing. When I came back and saw him, it felt like a crack of lightning down the middle of my body. It wasn’t a good feeling. But it did open me up. And when he asked me to live in his house, that was an act of faith for both of us.”

  Goodboy considered it, nodding at me to continue. A few pack mates had started to approach.

  “He blames himself for everything about my life. Even things that were obviously choices I made on purpose. When I think about what would have happened if I’d come in trying to forgive him, absolve him…that takes away everything from him. He’d be angry, and he’d be right. Did you ever stop to consider that letting him come to you would be faster than hounding him?”

  Goodboy stood, still calm but getting to the end of his time for me.

  “You weren’t here. But you’re not wrong. If he felt cornered, that’s on me. I just wish I knew how to get past it.”

  I smiled. That’s all I wanted to hear.

  “I just wanted to make sure I understand. When I got here Christian was angry, defensive because he was terrified he was screwing up. Everything felt like an attack. Especially help. But if you told him what you told me, that you need to grieve Ernest too, that you need to see the cubs, he’d let you help him anyway you want.”

  Goodboy leaned his head back, eyes narrowed in the sun. He took me in, like he was seeing me for the first time. I’ve been coming out here to his property every month, and he’s been to the house, but one on one we’ve never had a lot of reasons to interact. It’s enough that we like each other so much.

  There’s a certain friendly comfort between shifters who’ve spent more time together as beasts than as people. I don’t know you, but I know you. But I always knew we were good.

  I didn’t think about it until we were standing there, but it was the right approach for him, too. Omegas lead packs so rarely there isn’t even a word for it, omega-alpha? I realized at that moment that this was exactly how he led. His power was in giving, just like Christian.

  When human men give you things it gets them off because they’re saying, “I have the power to give you this.” They feel strong and magnanimous. But when their women do the same, it’s like if you’re already about giving, there’s no power in it. We tend to act that way in packs, too. Omegas stay home and take care of things, because half the time they can’t do much else.

  But Goodboy’s different, pack leader and an unmated omega. A wild card. Calm, soft and gentle, but also strong, clever, violent when he needs to be.

  Could I ever look at Christian that way? When I think about Christian leading a pack like this, it’s pretty easy, actually. Goodboy and the ranch are two sides of one thing, the land welcomes us in and gives us everything we need, just like an omega. I hope I can remember these thoughts later. It might be key to understanding how Christian sees the world.

  Finally, Goodboy laughed. “Tell him all the things we want to give him are actually things he can give us. You want to trick him by telling the truth.”

  He seemed tickled by that, but he wasn’t wrong.

  It’s just getting there that’s tricky. Goodboy offered to come over long enough for us to run to the airport, and Felix kissed Goodboy coyly on his way out, to his delight.

  He didn’t get to say goodbye to Jonesy, but that seemed fine. They’ll see each other again. I can already tell Jonesy’s not done thinking about that. This has been a very interesting year for him, I think. Which makes me laugh.

  “What’s so funny?”

  Alone in the car now, driving the long way back to Salt Flats from the airport, there’s a comfortable sweetness to the silence. I keep finding myself looking down at Christian’s hand and fighting the impulse to reach for it. I could swear I see him doing the same. I like this feeling. An infatuated, teen-crush thrill.

  “Jonesy is going to be talking about Felix Armistead for weeks.”

  “For the rest of our lives,” Christian snorts affectionately.

  At the next light, heading into town, I risk another look at him.

  “I have a confession to make.”

  Engine idling beneath us, Christian’s eyes get wide. Even as I’m smiling to reassure him.

  “Nothing bad, I just want to go somewhere, and I want you to go with me,” I say. I’m direct but there are butterflies in my stomach.

  Christian nods. “Anything. Sure.”

  I can tell he’s getting annoyed.

  “I’m not trying to be mysterious, sorry. I went to see Goodboy.”

  His eyes darken, but he’s still engaged.

  “I’ve been thinking about the pack. Having Felix here reminded me how much comfort and strength I got from having a community. Even a bad one. Now we’re here and it’s not a bad one. It’s a great one. I need that. I’m here with you and the kids, and I love it. This is where I belong. But I need a pack and I think you do, too.”

  Christian breathes through it. Rolls down his car window and nods, staring forward.

  “You gave me a place to live when I had nothing. If I had come in here trying to take over and pay for everything and make you fall in love with me, you would have fought against it.”

  He laughs. “Kicking and screaming.”

  “But that’s not what happened. You helped me. You cared for me. Because that’s who you are. You heal by helping others. It’s beautiful. You inspire me in a lot of ways, and you always have. But seeing how you deal with things, with the kids, and with me, and even Felix and Jonesy, that’s a whole other level. You’re incredible.”

  A tear slides down his c
heek, but he’s smiling. He can’t look at me, but he’s listening hard.

  “You’re not alone anymore. You’re not doing it alone. I’m not saying I can fill every space, or loss. But when it comes to this life, kids, house, garden, Jonesy, you’re on a team now. I think that changes things.”

  This time, he does reach for my hand on the gearshift. It’s not romantic just a squeeze that says, it does.

  “What Goodboy said to me, what I heard, is that he’s grieving too. The pack lost Ernest too. They need to know his cubs. I feel even if you wanted to help them with that, come back to the pack, that’s asking a lot.”

  He nods. He can see where we’re going now. He shivers, but he’s ready.

  “But only when you were alone. I don’t think it’s too much to ask now. I can’t speak for you, but that’s how I feel about it. A shifter belongs in a pack and those cubs can’t grow up like we did. All alone, confused, scared to death. I want to be with them forever, but I don’t want us to be it for them. I know you don’t either.”

  He turns to me, finally.

  “I’m ashamed. Dominic. I’m not feeling particularly vulnerable or selfish anymore. I didn’t know that until just now. But you’re right about everything, and the only thing that’s left is the fact that I’m embarrassed. I know that’s not good, and it’s silly, and I think spending time with them would get easier quickly. I know it would be comforting, and healing, and good…”

  There’s a but. And I know what it is.

  “Splashtown Splashdown.”

  Christian throws back his head and laughs.

  “Oh my God,” he says, and surprises us both with a kiss on my cheek.

  It was the summer after third grade. I remember, because that was the tannest I ever got. Usually I burned, and peeled, and that was it for the summer. But that year it worked out. We were at the local water park, Splashtown. A microbial wonderland of daycare groups, pizza parties, sports teams, screaming children, and smashed sandwiches in plastic baggies. It was one of the few places we didn’t mind going with our parents, because we could run free. They’d sit under the umbrellas all day, watching people go by and occasionally remembering to yell about sunscreen.

  Until that summer it had never even occurred to me to attempt the Splashdown. A five-story, twisting slide with a long drop at the end. It was just something for grownups and teenagers, like religion or books with sex in them. But some time during third grade, I’d gotten uneasy with the level of Christian’s approval of me. I needed to be his hero, and that year I needed it badly. Who knows where it came from. Maybe I thought he was making other friends and I didn’t like it. That sounds about right, I’m sorry to say. All I know is, on our third visit to the park that summer I knew it was time.

  I was wearing bright red trunks and his were aqua blue, with a darker blue stripe. His skin was always olive, darker than mine, so I remember the water on his shoulders. I didn’t say what I was doing, but he could tell right away. That made it a dare, too. The fact that I wordlessly set off on the long, winding path up Splashdown meant he couldn’t do anything but follow.

  I never told anybody this, but I had a plan. Obviously, I had a plan. It was terrifying to contemplate taking the slide, of course. You needed higher stakes and impressing Christian Keller definitely fit the bill.

  There were teenagers at the top who would tell you when it was your turn to go. Watching kids hit the water at the bottom, blowing a whistle for the next. They liked yelling and they were on high alert, like lifeguards. But you could see the wiggle room in the rules.

  Moms could go down with their kids sometimes. Teen couples went down together all the time, kissing in the maelstrom. It seemed unbelievably romantic to me.

  Seeing a couple go over the falls my first thought wasn’t about kissing a girl, or a boy. It was about going over the edge with my best friend, at the speed of light.

  Standing at the top, mean teenagers in their big plastic sunglasses with zinc covered noses, looking out over the park, I couldn’t believe it was actually happening. I’d thought of it as a dream, and I’d made it come true.

  And then I looked over at Christian’s face, and he was twice as scared as I felt. Suddenly we were very high up. My stomach dropped, in sympathy and a new perspective. Two very small people at the top of something very high. Tanned, muscled, crappy gorgeous teenagers getting annoyed with us for holding up the line.

  I didn’t want to be yelled at. My anguish was about how quickly it had gone from perfect to nasty, and I just wanted it to be over. There was only one way to do that. Down.

  Christian’s teeth were chattering in the breeze now, his arms tight around him and eyes which had never been quite so huge. But he looked back at me and saw something there, and with one breath he got so much braver.

  There were two chutes, two lifeguards controlling them, two lines of kids behind us. But I wasn’t going to let that go, either. I held out my hand, and he laughed and grabbed hold.

  And we jumped.

  Lifeguards yelling at us, even though it didn’t matter. Kids laughing at us, which didn’t matter either. Everything washed away in the rush and power of the water, down and around, faster than the eye could see. I caught occasional glimpses of Christian, his laughing face a huge comfort, it meant he wasn’t angry. But there was something else there, too.

  He wasn’t afraid at all. Once we were really going he lost all fear in his excitement. Somehow, I was the one threatening to stiffen up, where there was nothing to be done. But with that smile in my mind, and his fierce hand in mine, I made a very conscious choice just to let go. Just ride.

  We came flying out into the air over the drop pool, shining in the spray and the sun. I could swear we hung there for a second, like a cartoon, before we dropped. And he never let go.

  Under the water, we sank perilously deep like torpedoes fired from a sub.

  My feet touched bottom. Christian had gone still, which worried me, so I opened my eyes, but he was only smiling. Down there in the twilight of the deep, all alone. Just smiling at me. Beatific and joyful and adoring.

  I know that’s when I fell in love with him.

  Inside myself, somewhere, I think I even knew it then. I felt a shift inside me, a physical sensation like when my wolf first woke up, alert and hungry.

  And we rose together, still smiling.

  And above water again, time stood still as we sucked in air. Still laughing with the thrill of it.

  There are tears in his eyes now, driving through the maze of Goodboy’s ranch. He remembers as vividly as I do. He knows what it means. Are we really falling, if we’re falling together?

  “Fine. Yeah, dude. You’re right. I miss them. Just…I don’t want to talk about it. Can you make it so things are just already fixed?”

  I laugh. Normally that request would make me roll my eyes. But this time it’s a relief.

  “Yeah. Goodboy’s already here, so, all we have to do is go on in.”

  Christian’s eyebrows rise. “Pretty confident,” he says.

  “Maybe. Or maybe I just know you that well.”

  He considers it as I’m parking. The grassy lot is pretty full, and I wonder how many pack members actually made it out to the ranch for this.

  If it’s a real party, Felix will never forgive me.

  “You do know me, don’t you? We know each other. I felt like I was meeting you for the first time but that wasn’t it. It’s the exact same spirit, under all the…”

  I snort, smiling. “Under all the bullshit?”

  His eyes turn soft, smiling. “Under everything they did to you, is what I was going to say.”

  I don’t know how to respond so I take his hand in mine and we’re off, once again.

  “Splashdown,” Christian whispers.

  And when Goodboy’s front door opens, the kids flow toward him shouting happily in a river of joy. Splashdown.

  Goodboy and the rest of the pack. Not a single person missing, it could just as well be
a full moon and not a homecoming. They all crowd around us, clasping our hands and kissing his cheeks. Sniffing and sniffling at us, passing the cubs around for chats and hugs. Bringing fruit and little cakes from inside, cool drinks and treats.

  It feels and smells almost like a birthday party, or a solstice. I really should have made Felix stay the extra day. I just didn’t know.

  It’s been so small and intimate, for so many months. Just me, Christian and the kids, in our various rooms or coming together and splitting up. Sharing the space. Goodboy too, sometimes, and Jonesy a few times a week. Felix for a bit, until today. But that’s the most contact we’ve had, hiding away in our separate miseries. This threatens to be too much, almost, but never quite gets there. It just feels good.

  Now they’re dancing him away, into a whirling laughing circle. The pack’s cubs putting flowers in our hair, painting roses on our cheeks. Across the crowd, I see Christian in the gold of the setting sun. That strong, capable omega in him. The pride of his rail-straight back.

  And the youth in him, too. Laughing like that day at the Splashdown, as they dance him around in circles.

  We never discussed it exactly, but I knew we were in the same place to start off, with love. Like it was over.

  Like it could ever be over.

  I thought I’d missed my shot, and he thought he’d used his. Like your body has a winter, just closing up shop, leaves falling. Depressing and cold. A kind of comfort in it, but dead all the same.

  And now it feels like we’re waking up. Not by choice, not by design, not the hard work we’ll have to learn to do. Blind, suffering and lost, we groped our way home and found it was with each other.

  I don’t know what that sparks in Christian, but for me it feels like a puzzle piece popping into place. I’ve known for as long as I’ve been able to love exactly where I belong. It’s here.

  His soft voice, laughing, his graceful strength. Finally looking back at me the way I always wanted him to. The one smile for me that’s always waited just behind his eyes.

  I thought I would have to slay dragons, outrun tigers and trick giants to make him love me. I thought there was something I could do, some spell or code word I just needed to learn.