by T. S. Joyce
His lips twitched again. Fuck, his face was broken today or something.
Brick hooked his hands on his hips and told the boy, “Those will do,” knowing damn well he would go straight to the hardware store after this and buy the boy some good work gloves that fit him.
He knelt down and told the boy, “My name is Brick.”
“Like in the walls?” The boy pointed to the bricks on the house.
“Sort of. My whole name is Bricken, but it’s just Brick for short. What’s your name?” Yeah, he knew it from his shifter hearing picking up the conversation between him and his momma at the diner, but a man should learn how to introduce himself, and this little cub was man of the house here.
“I’m Tucker. You can call me Tuck. It’s shorter, too.”
His damn broken lips curved up. “Who else calls you Tuck?” He had to know because he’d seen the backwards baseball cap the kid was wearing.
“No one, but now I want them to.”
Brick had never been more gob-smacked in his whole life. This kid was looking up to him enough to emulate him. To emulate a monster. What the hell had happened to his life in the last week? His world was upside down.
“See these piles of wet leaves?” Brick asked.
Tucker nodded.
“I need to pull the rest down from the gutters, but I need your help putting them into trash bags so we can keep your house clean.”
“I can do that.”
And as Brick watched the little boy go to work, the emptiness inside of him got a little smaller.
****
Trinity dragged the last of the trash bags to the garbage can at the curb, then turned to look at the house.
Brick had replaced all the rotten wood around the roof, and replaced any damaged sections of gutters, then re-secured the rest. They were all clean and white and where they were supposed to be. A sense of utter relief flooded her. That had been on her mental to-do list for so long, and up until now she hadn’t realized how much it had weighed on her.
Trinity inhaled deeply and exhaled slowly, her breath freezing in front of her. Throughout the day, the tension had slowly been leaving her body. It had happened with the sound of Tucker’s laughter, and while watching this big growly man be patient with her kid. It had happened when he kept looking back at her as if he couldn’t help himself. The tension had eked out of her as he’d insisted that she sit down on the front lawn and not help, to just rest for once. And while it wasn’t in her nature to stop moving, or not help, it was really nice to just kick back in a lawn chair with a blanket and a hot chocolate, reading a book while the boys worked away. When was the last time she’d read a book without feeling like there were a hundred things she needed to be doing instead?
Brick had fixed her car, fixed the gutters, spent time with Tucker, and fixed the hot water heater. Outside of that, she’d caught up with her bills, the house was clean, both the boys were fed, and everything was good.
For once, she just felt…caught up.
Brick had done that. By listening and helping for an evening, he’d taken some of the weight off her shoulders and shared it, and she didn’t have the right words to thank him for that.
Brick was standing on the roof like a sure-footed billy goat, checking that the rest of the gutters were firmly attached. He was so handsome in the waning light of evening, moving around like he’d been raised on the side of a mountain. He’d tossed his coat down onto the ground a couple hours ago, and from here she could see his bare arms in his t-shirt. He didn’t even have gooseflesh from the cold. Tough mountain man. He had a drill in his hand and was on the very right corner of the roof, over the kitchen. At the very left corner, the ladder shook.
The movement drew her attention, but Brick’s truck was blocking her view of everything but the top of the ladder. It was windy, but probably not windy enough to shake the ladder.
The ladder shook again.
With a gasp, Trinity bolted around the truck. “Tucker?”
Her boy was scaling the top rung by the time she made it around the massive pickup truck. Tucker reached for the gutter to pull himself up, and time slowed.
She couldn’t get there fast enough. His little fingers slipped on the lip of the gutter and he yelped as he toppled off the ladder. His little arms were stretched out as he fell to the ground.
“No!” she screamed in horror as she pushed her legs harder, knowing with every fiber of her being she would never reach him in time.
A great wind knocked her sideways, and Tucker disappeared just as he was about to hit the pavement. Just…disappeared.
Trinity reached the place he was supposed to land, but her son wasn’t there. He was in the side yard, in Brick’s arms.
Every muscle in her froze.
She blinked hard, trying to put together the scene before her.
Brick was cradling Tucker tight to his chest. He was kneeling down, his face looking monstrous, and his eyes blazing even brighter. His features were animal-like, and his lips were pulled away from teeth that seemed too sharp.
Brick growled out, “Are you okay?” to Tucker.
Tucker looked as shocked as Trinity felt. He only nodded.
Brick looked at Trinity with an intensity in his eyes that she didn’t understand.
“H-how?” she asked. “You were over there.” She pointed to the other side of the house.
Brick gritted his teeth so hard, his jaw muscles twitched. In a rush, he shoved the boy away from him and stood, then backed away a few feet. He wiped his hands on his pants. “Did I hurt you?” he asked Tucker.
“No,” Tucker said quietly, looking so tiny standing in front of Brick.
“Did I hurt your skin?” Brick asked.
“No.” Tucker sounded confused.
Something was wrong. Something was wrong. How had he blurred to Tucker and landed way over there on his feet? How had he gotten to him in time? Something was wrong. Trinity bolted for Tucker and pulled him back behind her legs. “Why would you hurt his skin?”
“I’m…” Brick’s chest was heaving as he looked from Trinity to Tucker, then back to Trinity. Panic was etched into every sharp facet of his face. “I’m not supposed to touch you. It hurts if I touch you.”
“You didn’t hurt me,” Tucker said softly from behind her. His little hands were balled up in her leggings.
Brick took a couple more steps back and angled away from them. “I don’t understand.”
“Brick?” Trinity murmured. “What are you?”
“I’m nothing. I’m nothing. Trinity, I’m supposed to be nothing. I have to go.” He strode past her and she reached for him. “No!” he yelled. “You can’t. I can’t!”
Red was trickling down his arm, and his t-shirt sleeve was soaking again.
“Brick, you’re hurt!”
“I’m sorry,” he muttered.
“Don’t go.” Trinity followed him. “You’re not nothing. You saved Tucker! Brick, wait!”
He hopped into his truck and rolled down his window. “You made me feel…”
“Feel what?” she asked, stopping a few feet shy of his window.
“Scared.”
She could see the red pouring down his arm from here. “Brick, please come in and let me help you.”
“I’m not supposed to feel, Trinity! I don’t get scared and I saw him fall and I can’t stop my fuckin’ heart.” He gripped the wheel so hard, it creaked. “What am I?”
Feeling helpless, she shook her head and whispered, “I don’t know.”
“You know I’m something different. You asked what I am.”
“Whatever you are, it’s okay. Just come inside and we can talk.”
“I can smell your fear,” he murmured in that gravelly voice of his. He swallowed hard and glanced at the tree in her side yard, then back to her. “Now we’re afraid of each other.”
She didn’t understand. She didn’t understand anything as he backed out of her driveway. “Brick?” she called as he threw his
truck into drive and skidded away.
He’d left his tools and ladder here. He’d left her confused. Left her to wonder. He’d left so much.
She stumbled into the street just in time to see him disappear around the corner.
He wasn’t human. He was something different.
Caw, caw, caw.
Trinity dragged her attention away from the empty street to the tree in her side yard.
On the lowest hanging branch sat a huge crow.
“He’s bad,” Tucker said, pointing to the black bird.
Chills rippled up her arms. “Come on. Let’s go inside.”
She ushered her boy into the house. When she turned to shut the door, she saw that the crow had landed at the edge of the porch and was staring at her with a too-intelligent light brown eye.
Caw, caw, caw.
I want the crows to leave you alone.
Trinity shut the door and locked it.
Her heart was drumming hard against her sternum.
“Mom?” Tucker asked.
“Yeah, baby?” she said, turning to her son.
He blinked slowly. “I wanted Mr. Bear to stay.”
With a sigh, she leaned her back against the door. “Me too, buddy.”
Chapter Six
Brick had been lied to.
All his life, he’d been lied to.
His truck roared as he hit the gas and swerved toward Aux’s cabin up on his mountain.
His shoulder hurt so bad. So fuckin’ bad. He was trying to slow the bleeding by applying pressure with his hand, but he was fuckin’ dying.
At his normal parking spot in the woods, just on the edge of Aux’s territory, he pulled to a stop. He never drove his truck onto Aux’s territory when he hunted. He hunted quietly, like his dad had taught him. He would murder quietly like his dad taught him.
But Dad had been a liar.
He’d beaten it into Brick’s head that if he touched humans, he would burn their skin. He would hurt them. He would kill them because he’d been born to kill. It was a bear shifter’s only purpose. His only reason for existence had been to cause pain.
Rage and confusion swirled inside of his aching chest. Fuck it. Fuck the territory line. He didn’t have it in him to hike up the mountain in secret.
Aux would see him coming. Brick wanted him to see him coming. He had a plan to end the hurt.
He skidded this way and that through the trees in the dark forest. When he scaled the top of the hill and slammed on his brakes in front of Aux’s cabin, his brother was waiting for him on the porch stairs.
He’d already removed his shirt, because Aux knew. Aux always knew.
In the halo of porch light, Brick turned off his truck and shoved the door open. “Everyone lied,” he said, pacing in front of his truck.
Aux frowned. “About what.”
“I went my whole fuckin’ life without touch, and look what it made me into. Look what it made you into! Look at Moore! My whole fuckin’ life is a lie.”
Aux’s frown faded instantly into realization. “Did you touch her?”
“Touch who?” Brick demanded, his protective instinct demanding he kill Aux for even mentioning her.
“The one who is meant for you?”
“No.” What was this awful burning in his eyes? What was this thick lump in his throat? He was dying. Pit-pat-pit-pat. Blood dripped from his fingertips into the snow. “It’s so much worse.”
Aux shook his head slowly. “What happened?”
“I touched her cub and it didn’t hurt him. But it hurt me. My chest still hurts. I want to touch his mom. Fuck…” Brick had never felt so helpless. Never felt so out of control of his emotions. He fell to his knees in the snow. “Why? Why don’t we matter, Aux?”
“I don’t know. I think about it a lot. About the things we were taught. I don’t want to hurt Gwen at all. I want to protect her. Meeting her didn’t turn me into a monster like they told us. Her touch didn’t make me weak like they said. I feel better. The animal feels better too.”
“I came to town to hunt you. I’m here to kill you. Moore is waiting for the confirmation.”
“I know.”
Of course he did. Aux always knew. He was the steadiest of the three of them. Brick huffed an empty laugh. “You killed me instead.”
Aux shook his head and reached for something. A pair of beers sitting beside him on the porch. He tossed one to Brick, and he caught it with his good arm.
Confused, Brick stared at the cold can. “What is this?”
“The other day, Gwen saw us talking through the window of that diner. I explained how it was for me, and you, and Moore. I can’t do a goddamn thing about Moore. He’s been lost since the day we were born, but Gwen wants me to try to be a better brother to you. Or maybe to be a brother at all. I don’t know what the fuck I’m doing most days anymore, Brick, but I don’t want to kill you, and I don’t think you want to kill me either.”
“No,” Brick said raggedly. “You’re wrong. I want you to end it tonight. Please. Everything hurts.”
“Just feels like that tonight, but that’ll ease up. Trust me. Learning to feel is intense at first, but then it’s good when the bear gets used to the ache. The ache turns to something good. Just…wait.”
“And do what?”
Aux cracked the top of his beer. “You drink a beer with me tonight, and neither one of us gives into the bear. Neither one of us changes into the animal. We both let each other live to fight another day. We talk. Or we sit here in silence. Whatever you need. And then when you feel like it, you drive back down my mountain and you think about all the things you’re realizing, and you take care of your lady and her cub.”
Stunned, Brick knelt there in the cold snow, painting it red for a few breaths before he popped the top on the beer and took a long drag. “There was a crow in her tree when I left her earlier.”
“So fuckin’ what?” Aux asked. “There’s a dozen of them in the trees watching my house right now. What are they gonna do, Brick? What can a dozen crows do against a grizzly shifter? What can a hundred?” A slow smile stretched across his face. “You’re gonna figure out how powerful you are soon. And when you do, you come back here and tell me how you feel about the fuckin’ crows then.”
“Rule number one, never touch a human. Rule number two, never fall for a human. Rule number three, never let a human know what you are. Aux,” Brick murmured. “You broke every rule we have lived our lives by.”
Aux smile got bigger. “Ask me if I regret it.”
But Brick didn’t have to. He already knew the answer.
“Moore will kill us,” Brick assured him.
“Maybe,” Aux murmured. “But I know what I’m going to do with the time I have left.”
“What?”
Aux twitched his head toward the cabin behind him. “Make her happy. That’s my new oath. It’s the only oath that’s ever really made sense to me.” He gestured to Brick’s bleeding arm. “You aren’t healing like you’re supposed to.”
He took another chug of beer. “I think you fuckin’ poisoned me with that bite.”
“Nah, you’re doing that to yourself.”
“I don’t know what you mean.”
Aux leaned forward, his elbows resting on his knees. His eyes narrowed on Brick. “I promise you, you’re going to figure it out. You’re going to figure everything out. All you have to do is let her in.”
Chapter Seven
The crows were following her.
Trinity had dropped Tucker at his school this morning, now that his winter break was done. They’d circled her car all the way through the drop-off line, far above in the clouds. They’d followed her to the diner, and every time she looked out the front window, she could see a couple of the crows sitting on the railing across the street.
They’d followed her after her shift to pick up Tucker, and when she’d pulled into her driveway, three were sitting on her roof.
Uncertainty was her constant compani
on today. She missed Brick.
It had been so nice to feel safe, and happy, and hopeful.
The crows were still outside. She could feel them watching her house, even in the dark of night.
She checked the front window for the tenth time tonight, and there he was.
Brick stood in the middle of her yard.
He was wearing a heavy jacket with a fur-lined hood, and thick leather pants over boots. The bottom half of his face was covered with black fabric, but she would know those cheekbones and bright silver eyes anywhere.
She opened the door. “Brick?”
Brick canted his head and studied her. “Why you?” he asked.
His voice was different, lower and grittier than she’d heard before. He canted his head the other way and the porch light hit a long scar on his cheekbone.
Brick didn’t have a scar on his cheek.
Dread dumped into her veins. She slammed the door closed, locked it in a rush, and backed off a few steps.
That wasn’t him. That wasn’t Brick.
That was something other.
A long animal snarl rattled on the other side of her door.
A whimper escaped her lips as she stood there frozen in terror.
There was a monster at her door.
Trinity sat up with a gasp.
The covers had tangled around her legs, and she kicked out of them frantically. Breath heaving, she looked around the dark room. Her mouth was dry as cotton, and she fell off the bed as she bolted for the bathroom, blinding herself when she turned on the light. She turned on the water and leaned down to drink straight from the faucet. Wiping water droplets from her lips, she looked around the bathroom in horror. What an awful dream. She’d never felt so scared from a nightmare. It had felt so real.
A knock sounded on the front door and she jumped and yelped.
“Trinity?” Brick called through the door.
Brick. That was Brick. She bolted for the door and pressed her hands on it. “Brick?” she called.
“I need help.”
