by TJ Klune
He stood slowly, swaying side to side.
I thought he was going to go out the door and disappear into the forest.
He came to the bed and stood above me, head cocked.
He leaned forward, pressing his nose against my forehead, and I said, “Oh,” because in the storm of indecision swirling within him, in the violet Omega rage, was blue and green swirling together, and it ached.
He pulled his head away, trailing his nose down my arm.
He opened his jaws, teeth glinting in the firelight.
I wasn’t scared. He wasn’t going to hurt me more than he already had.
He closed his teeth around my wrist, the skin dimpling. The pressure didn’t hurt, and his breath was hot against my skin.
He tugged on my arm. I went, pulling the blanket along with me.
He led me toward the fire before he let me go. He huffed, a low sound that was almost like a whisper.
I spread the blanket out on the floor before lying down.
He sat next to me, staring at the fire.
I waited.
A moment later he hung his head, ears drooping.
And then he lay down, curling himself around me, tail curling over my legs.
I lifted my head as he pushed his nose against my ear. He moved closer, and I lay back against his neck.
His tail thumped once. Twice.
He laid his head over my shoulder, his chin resting on my chest.
It felt like it did before.
When we were home.
I thought I saw Kelly standing in the corner of the cabin, but there was nothing there.
I raised my hand and let it settle between his ears.
He closed his eyes.
“We’ve been here before,” I whispered. “You and me. Remember? In Green Creek. You always slept in my room.”
He sighed.
“Mom told me once that it was easier to process grief as a wolf. Humans are so complex, vast and contradictory. But when you’re a wolf, it’s easier. Things make more sense. All those little shades of gray fade away into nothing. I didn’t understand her then. I do now. I want to shift, but I won’t. Because this hurt, this pain, is mine. I won’t let it be stripped from me. It’s so blue I’m drowning in it, and I think I’m breaking. Grief is funny like that. There are days when I can tell myself I’m forgetting. That it’s behind me. And then there’s an ocean of blue, and I don’t know how to keep my head above water.”
He opened one violet eye, studying me.
I smiled at him, pressing my thumb against his forehead. “You think you know what’s right. That sacrificing yourself is going to keep the rest of us safe. But you’re a Bennett now, because a name is a name is a name. And I’m sorry for that. It’s a heavy burden but one that means you’ll never be alone again.”
He closed his eyes, turning his head inward, hiding his face.
I said, “So do what you think you need to, so long as you remember that this isn’t how it ends for you. Or for me. We’re more than this. We deserve more. After everything we’ve been through, we’re owed. And if you think I’m just going to leave you here, then you don’t know me very well. I’ve got my claws in you now. Where you go, I go. And if that means following you into the dark, so be it.”
His tail thumped against my legs again.
And then we slept.
I DREAMED OF A CLEARING.
I ran as a wolf.
My pack was with me, their voices in my head, singing BrotherLoveSonPack you are here you are here and i will eat you up i love you so so so much run with us run and feel the earth feel the pack it’s green green green because hope never dies hope always remains so long as we’re here.
They sang, a wolfsong that tore at my skin, and it was violet and terrible, but it was mine, it was for me, and it said please please don’t leave me don’t leave me carter carter carter i do what i do because i have to it’s the only way and i i i thought i was alone i thought i would always be alone but then i found you i found you in this storm and i thought you were the sun i thought you were home i thought you were mine.
I howled, and the world shook.
WHEN I AWOKE, he was gone.
The fire was dead, embers barely smoldering.
The cabin was cold.
I blinked up at the ceiling, still caught in the dream of running with my pack, his voice in my head like we were connected, like the threads between us had reformed.
I rubbed at the ache in my chest.
I sat up.
My neck hurt.
I felt empty, hollowed out.
I stood and went to the window.
Clouds had gathered again in the night. They threatened more snow.
Paw prints broke through the thin crust of snow outside the cabin.
A red leaf lay in one of the prints, having fallen from a tree near the cabin still caught in autumn.
I stared at it.
And made a decision.
I PULLED MY COAT TIGHTER around me. I was colder than I ever remembered being, but I needed to see for myself. Where he was going. What he was doing. It was dangerous, but I was running out of options. It was getting harder and harder to realize I was awake. The world had become hazy around the edges like it had when I paced behind a line of silver in the basement of the pack house.
The paw prints were close together. He was walking, and there were times when the prints connected as though he was dragging his feet. He wasn’t running toward something. He was trudging, and he didn’t want to go.
I didn’t know how long it lasted. How long I went. A mile, two, ten. I walked, and the clouds grew thicker, and the forest was dead as that diseased heart pulsed. It tugged on my mind, a sour caress, and I fought it through gritted teeth. It whispered wordlessly. It was a low hum buzzing in my skull.
And then I heard him.
Talking.
Gavin said, “Always here. Never leave, do you? Talking, talking, talking. Always talking.”
I held my breath as I pressed my forehead against a tree, the bark rough.
A beat of silence. Then, “I don’t. Stop. Go away, ghost. Go away, you’re not here, you’re not here, you’re not here.”
And then he laughed, a terrible sound that made my skin crawl. It sounded like he was choking. He said, “You’re not real, I know, I know. I saw you. You were sleeping. Safe. Ghost. Always haunting me. I hate you. I need you. Please let me die. Please leave me here.”
My breath rose like mist around my face.
“You can’t,” he retorted to someone only he could see. “Kill you. He’ll kill you, and I’ll be alone. I’ll be alone. Please don’t go. Why? Why? Let me look. Let me see it. All I have. It’s all I have.”
I pulled my head away from the tree. I gripped the trunk, claws digging in as I leaned around it.
Gavin crouched in the snow about ten yards away. He was nude and alone, his hair loose and hanging around his face. The bones in his spine jutted out. He turned his head to the side and barked, “Stop! Don’t. You don’t know. I do. I do. It’s not real. It’s a lie. Everything is lies. Hurts, Carter. It hurts inside my head.”
My hands shook.
He said, “Stay here. Keep it safe. Broken. It’s all broken. All that I have left.” He continued on, muttering quietly. He was digging in the snow at the base of a tree.
A low roar echoed throughout the forest. In it, I heard here here here come come to me come to me.
Gavin sagged. “I know. I know.” He raised his head toward the sky. “I can’t breathe. Crushing. I can’t stop. I can’t stop, Carter. Please help me stop.” He stood slowly and nodded. “You promise? You won’t leave me?”
I opened my mouth, but no sound came out. My throat was closed.
“Okay,” he said. And, “It’s secret. You. This you. My ghost. You’re not real. Sleeping you is real. I think. Saying words. Always saying words. Gavin, Gavin, Gavin, that’s all you say. Skinny. Beard and skinny you is real and you never stop talking.�
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My face was wet. I told myself it was because of the snow.
I heard the familiar grind of muscle and bone and he was away, heading deeper into the woods.
I waited until the sounds of his footfalls faded.
All that remained was my thunderous heart in my ears.
I found the courage to leave the safety of my hiding place. I stepped around the tree.
The snow was trampled where he’d been crouched, and for a moment I almost convinced myself there was a second set of footprints, that he’d been talking to someone who’d actually been there.
There wasn’t.
“You know what this is,” Kelly said suddenly. I looked over at him. He was wearing a T-shirt and jeans, and I didn’t want him to catch a cold again. I thought he’d been dying. Even though he was a wolf now, I worried. I tried to hand him my coat, but he just laughed at me. “You know what this means. He sees you even when you’re not there. Like I’m not really here. It’s how you hold on, the both of you. You try so hard. You always have. It’s one of the things I love most about you.”
“A tether,” I whispered.
Kelly nodded. “I think so. Weird, right? You two are the same. Even with everything that separates you. Holding on to that last thread even though the truth is right in front of you. It can’t last, Carter. It won’t. Something has to give.”
There was a hole in the base of the tree. It looked like an old den for a small animal. Dead leaves and grass littered the inside. I leaned over and reached in, steeling myself in case the hole wasn’t empty and I was about to get bitten.
I didn’t.
I touched the leaves.
The grass.
And then I felt it.
A thin, stiff piece of… plastic? It was—
I pulled it out.
Three smiling boys stared up at me from the photograph.
Joe said, “Mom wants a picture.”
Kelly groaned. “What? Another one? Why?”
Joe shrugged. “It’s my first day of high school. And the first day of your senior year. And Carter’s leaving tomorrow to go back to Eugene.”
I said, “I can’t wait. Get the hell out of this town.”
Joe rolled his eyes. “Yeah, I bet. That’s why you come home almost every single weekend.”
I put him in a headlock. He laughed as he tried to get away from me. Kelly watched us, smiling. “Gotta keep you in check. Make sure the whole Daddy-said-I’m-going-to-be-an-Alpha thing isn’t going to your head.”
“It’s not. I don’t care about that.”
“Right,” Kelly said as I let Joe go. “Because you only care about Ox these days.”
Joe flashed orange eyes. “I do not.”
“You loooove him,” I said, my voice high and mocking.
“Fuck you, Carter!”
“I’ll pretend I didn’t hear that,” another voice said.
We looked toward the doorway to my room. Dad was there, arms crossed over his chest, and his lips were twitching.
Joe groaned. “Carter started it.”
“Carter started it,” I mimicked. He glared at me when I pushed him off my bed. “I don’t know, Joe. You don’t sound like an Alpha to me. Just a whiny little brother. Maybe Dad made a mistake.”
“Many mistakes,” Dad agreed. “Three of them I regret more than others, especially if they don’t get their butts in gear. Your mother is waiting.”
Joe grumbled under his breath as he left my room, pausing only to stand on his tiptoes and kiss our father on the cheek.
Kelly patted my hand before he left too. Dad wrapped a hand around the back of his neck, leaning forward and whispering, “I can’t believe how grown up you are.”
Kelly blushed. He said, “Stop,” but he didn’t mean it. And then he was gone.
I stood up from my bed. My duffel bag was packed and ready to go. I was already looking forward to getting away. I loved them, my pack, but I was free when I was out of Green Creek. I was finding myself.
Dad was watching me.
“What?”
He shook his head fondly. “Just thinking, is all.”
“About?”
“How little you used to be.”
I flexed. “Not so little anymore.”
He laughed. “Glad to know your ego is in check as always.” His smile faded. “I miss you when you’re not here.”
I frowned. “Is everything okay?”
“Of course. Things are as they always are. You would know if they weren’t.”
“O… kay. What’s with all the feelings, then?”
“I’m a father,” he said dryly. “I tend to have those.”
“Yeah, yeah,” I said. I picked up my bag, hoisting the strap over my shoulder. “Have at it, then, Pops. I gotta get on the road.”
He came into the room and stopped before me. He reached up and put his hands on my shoulders, squeezing gently. In my head, I heard him whispering along the bonds that stretched between us, and it was SonLovePack i love you i love you i love you.
He said, “I’m very proud of you. I can’t wait to see what you’ll do with your life.”
“You’re being weird.”
He jostled me a little. “Being retrospective isn’t being weird.”
“Yeah, well, you’re making it weird.” I grinned at him. “Must be an Alpha thing. Make sure you teach Joe all about that. Should be easy, seeing as how he’s already weird.”
My father said, “Joe will be Alpha. But you and Kelly… your job will be just as important. Because you will be his pack. And an Alpha is nothing without his pack. I know I… I’ve put a lot into him. Spent more time with him these last few years, and it took me away from you and Kelly—”
“Oh, hey, Dad, no, that’s not what I meant. You don’t have to—”
“Listen.”
I did.
“You are a Bennett, a name with meaning. With responsibility. They will look to Joe to lead them, but he will look to you for guidance. For hope. Because you are his just as much as he is yours. Nothing will change that. And I know you’ve never been the type to be jealous of something like that, but I need you to hear this from me, okay?”
I nodded, unable to speak.
My father said, “I love you no matter who you’re meant to be. I don’t care that you’re not an Alpha. You are as important, and not just to Joe. To me. You mean so much to me, and I don’t think I’ve told you that enough.”
“Dad,” I said in a choked voice.
He pressed his forehead against mine, and I breathed my Alpha in. “No matter where your travels take you, just know that I’m always here waiting for you whenever you decide you’re ready to come home.”
He hugged me then.
I held on as tightly as I could.
And later, when Mom was telling us to get together, to smile, Kelly, smile big, Dad was next to her, and I could see how proud of us he was.
It went like this:
We stood in order, oldest to youngest, Kelly in the middle, his arms around our shoulders. I laid my head against him. I could feel him smiling, and the tips of Joe’s fingers pressed against my back.
Mom said, “Ready? One. Two. Three.”
The camera clicked.
Ox came out of his house dressed in his work shirt, his name stitched on the chest. Joe left us and ran toward him, talking excitedly. Maggie appeared in the doorway, already dressed for the diner. She called after Ox, holding out a brown paper lunch sack. She waved at us.
We all waved back.
My mother cried as I left.
Dad did too, though he tried to keep it from us by wiping his eyes when he thought we weren’t looking.
Joe and Kelly hugged me as hard as they could, and I breathed them in, my brothers, my pack.
“I promise,” I whispered in the snow as the memory faded.
I put the photograph back in the tree.
He would know I’d been here. My scent would be thick around this tree.
/> I looked at the tracks leading away.
I stood.
Kelly said, “Don’t. Carter, please. Stay here. Go back to the cabin. Or better yet, find the truck and leave.”
“I can’t,” I said, looking down at the paw prints in the snow.
“You can,” he retorted. “You need to get to us. Call home. Tell us where you are. Let us help you. I need you. Why can’t you see that?”
“What would you do if this were Robbie?”
“That’s not fair. He’s my mate.”
“And Gavin is mine.”
Kelly snorted derisively. “Not yet. He’s feral, Carter. He doesn’t care about you. He doesn’t want you here. He’s told you that over and over, and you just won’t listen.”
My hands curled into fists. My fangs lengthened. “Stop.”
And Kelly said, “I won’t. You need to listen to me. This is stupid. There are others, Carter. Other people who could be your mate. It’s not just Gavin. You know that. You haven’t even thought about being with a man before. You never have. I could smell them, the women you fucked. It would cling to your skin for days, and you didn’t give a shit about who knew. If he was really your mate, you would have known the first time you saw him. I knew with Robbie. Mark did with Gordo. And you saw how Joe was the first time he met Ox.”
My fangs pierced my bottom lip as I ground them together. Blood trickled down on my chin. “You don’t know shit about me, then.”
“He’s using you,” Kelly (Not-Kelly) said. “He used all of us back in Green Creek. We kept him safe. And you know as well as I do that he knew who we were. Who Gordo was. Who Livingstone was. And he did nothing.”
“He saved us.”
“He saved himself,” Kelly growled. “And you fell for it. You left us all behind because you fell for it. You promised me, Carter. You promised it would always be me and you. Why do you hate me so much? What did I ever do to you to make you hurt me like this? Fuck you, Carter. Fuck you for making me think you gave a damn about me.”
“Leave it,” I said in warning. “No more. Kelly, I’m telling you to stop. Now.”
“Or what? What will you do to me? You’re nothing. You’re a shadow of who you used to be. You turned feral once, and I begged you not to. And yet here you are, doing it all over again. Jesus Christ, no wonder you lost Joe.”
