by TJ Klune
“Yeah,” Mark said as he sat back, keeping his hand on the back of my neck. “He would have. Very much, in fact. He would’ve been curious about him. Marveled at him. Told him how proud he was that he’d survived all that he’d been through. And he would have welcomed him with open arms. It pulled at him, I think. Which is why he went to Gavin as he did to tell him the truth.”
“He still should have told Gordo.”
“He should have,” Mark said. “But then he should’ve done many things that he didn’t do. Maybe that’s why we still feel him. Maybe that’s why he’s still here. Or maybe we’re just both out of our minds still. Little residual Omega stuck in our brains.”
“That was a weird time.”
“No shit. Look. Here they come.”
Gavin and Gordo were walking back toward us. Both of them had their hands in their coat pockets, their breath streaming behind them. Their elbows brushed together. I was struck then by just how similar they were. They even walked the same, though it might have been Gavin trying to be like his brother more than anything else. They were both scowling.
“Jesus Christ,” I muttered. “There are two of them now.”
Mark sounded like he was choking. “I didn’t even think about that. Holy shit. I have someone to talk to now about that motherfucker.”
I was horrified. “No. No. You do not get to talk to me about your sex life. I’m already scarred enough as it is. What in the actual fuck?”
Mark stared at me. “Why on earth would you think I was talking about sex?” Then he grinned, and it was evil. “You’ve got something on your mind, Carter?”
“Boundaries!” I yelled, and Gavin and Gordo’s heads snapped up at the same time. “We need boundaries!”
“I’m your uncle, Carter. And also your better. If you need some advice, I’m sure I can give you—”
I threw open the door and got out of the truck. I glared at Gordo. “Your mate is terrible and you should feel bad.”
Gordo shrugged. “I don’t. He’s a big boy. He can handle himself.”
I gagged. “Stop talking about how big he is! I don’t need to know that!”
Gordo rolled his eyes. “Come on, Gavin. Apparently it was a bad idea to leave these two idiots alone.”
“Yeah,” Gavin said. “Those idiots. Did you know Carter is stupid? He almost dies a lot.”
“I know. It’s a Bennett thing. Trust me, you think you can stop them or even get used to it, but then they go and do something ridiculous and you have to save them. Again.”
“And again,” Gavin said, scowling at me. “Don’t know why they can’t see it.”
“Right?” Gordo said. “You’d think they’d learn after the eighth or ninth time.”
I gaped at them.
“What?” Gordo snapped.
“Yeah,” Gavin said, that familiar scowl on his face. “What?”
I turned my face toward the sky. “This is all my fault. I deserve this. I should have seen this coming.”
“What’s he talking about?” Gavin asked his brother.
“I stopped listening a long time ago,” Gordo said, pushing him toward the truck. “If you’re going to stick around, you’d probably best start doing the same.”
“Easier?”
“Completely.”
“Okay,” Gavin said. And he walked right by me without so much as a look in my direction.
Gordo grinned. “I like him.”
“I hate everything,” I mumbled as I followed Gavin back to the truck.
LATER THAT NIGHT, Gavin sat on the edge of my bed. He’d been quiet since we’d gotten back from our little excursion. I wanted to push him, to find out what was going on in his head, but figured it was better to wait.
The sounds of the house moved around us as the pack settled in. Bambi, Joshua, and Rico were staying over in the blue house with Robbie and Kelly. Ox and Joe had turned Ox’s old room into a nursery for them as a gift. They had their own place, Rico having moved in with Bambi last year, but the Alphas wanted them to have space here too, if they ever needed it.
Chris and Tanner were bunking up in one of the rooms down the hall. I’d heard them laughing through their closed door as I passed by from the bathroom. I shook my head, wondering at them and the decisions they’d made. They seemed happy. That was the most important thing.
Gavin looked up at me from the bed. Usually by now, he’d shifted to his wolf. Most nights he’d sleep on the bed, stretching out until I was hanging off the side, trying to protect the little corner I’d made for myself. I’d tried pointing out that the floor was readily available, but he’d just yawn at me and turn his head away.
But here he was, still human.
I was nervous for reasons I didn’t want to focus on.
I threw my clothes in the laundry bin, looking down to see a pink sweater sitting on the top. The scent of the old-growth forest was thick. I tried to breathe it in without him noticing.
Which was apparently not the best idea I’d ever had.
“You smell me,” he said.
I stiffened. “What?”
“You smell me,” he said again, as if that explained everything.
“I don’t know what you’re talking about.”
He snorted. “Yeah, okay.”
I shook my head. “You need to stop hanging out with Gordo. You’re starting to talk like him.”
“He’s my brother.”
I sighed. “Yeah. I guess he is.”
“What does it smell like? Me. To you.”
Shit. “We really don’t need to talk about this.”
“Why not?”
“It’s late.”
“Tomorrow’s Christmas.”
“It is.”
“I haven’t had Christmas in a long time.”
I turned around. He was looking down at his hands. He was wearing a pair of sleep shorts. They belonged to Joe. Rico had bought him new sleep clothes along with everything else, but Gavin had yet to wear them. I didn’t ask because I understood. They smelled like an Alpha. Like pack. It was comforting. “Well, you can have one here. Tomorrow. I don’t know how big it’s going to be. Ox and Gordo are leaving in a couple of days. Joe and Robbie too.”
“Kelly going.”
I blinked. “What?”
“Kelly,” he said. “Going to Caswell with Joe and Robbie.”
I hadn’t known that. I scratched the back of my neck. “Makes sense. Robbie doesn’t have the best history with Caswell. Kelly wouldn’t want to let him out of his sight. We’re… weird that way.”
Gavin watched me, a curious look on his face. “Because they’re mates.”
I shrugged awkwardly. “Yeah. That’s part of it. A big part, even. But it’s also probably for Joe. Wanting to make sure someone has his back.”
“Joe is Alpha.”
“Your observational skills are exceptional.”
He sneered at me. “Alpha of all.”
“He is,” I agreed, wondering where he was going with this while also trying to figure out why the bed looked much smaller than it had this morning.
“Powerful,” Gavin said. “But I don’t know if he likes it.”
That startled me. “Why do you think that?”
“My observational skills are exceptional.”
I groaned. “You’re such an asshole.”
He grinned at me. “Your words.” The smile faded slightly. “Why does he do something he doesn’t like?”
It was too late for this. I was exhausted, but he wasn’t moving. I leaned against my desk. “Because he has to.”
“Why?”
“Because it’s who he’s supposed to be.”
He nodded slowly. “But you said I could be whoever I wanted.”
“You can.”
“Then why can’t he?”
“I…. It’s blood, Gavin. It’s in our blood. We’re Bennetts.”
“What would you be?”
“What do you mean?”
He frowned
in concentration. “If you… trying to find words.” He hit the side of his head.
“Hey, don’t do that. Just take your time, man. It’ll come to you.”
He said, “If you could be. Anyone else. Would you?”
“No,” I said, surprising even myself. “I don’t think I would.”
“Why?”
I chewed on the inside of my cheek before answering. “There’s this… history. Here, in Green Creek. And it’s not always a good history. A lot of shit has happened here.”
“But?”
The house creaked around us. I could hear my mother singing as she got ready for bed. Ox laughed downstairs at something Joe said. Jessie and Dominique were in the kitchen, drinking tea and talking quietly. Gordo and Mark were on the porch, close together and wrapped in blankets, sipping beer from cans. “But this is our home,” I said quietly. “It’s not perfect. I don’t think it ever will be. There’s always going to be something. And yet, even when I was gone, even when I was slipping, I thought of this place. Kelly and Joe. Mom. The others. They’re here. They’re home.”
“You came after me,” he whispered.
“I did.”
“Like Kelly went after Robbie.”
I swallowed with an audible click. “I suppose it’s kind of like that.”
And then he said, “What do I smell like to you?”
“Do we really need to—”
He said, “Grass. Lake water. Sunshine. That’s what Robbie says Kelly smells like to him.”
“When did you—”
“Kelly says Robbie smells like home.”
“I don’t—”
He pushed on. “And Mark said it’s dirt and leaves and rain for Gordo. Joe says it’s candy canes and pinecones. Epic and awesome. I don’t know what that means.”
“No one does. It’s just—”
“And Ox told me Joe smells like lightning.”
“You asked him?”
He squinted at me. “I didn’t know. So I asked. That’s how you find out what you don’t know.”
“You can’t just go around asking people what others smell like.”
“You can,” he said. “I did. It’s not hard. They have that. You think we have that. What do I smell like to you?”
I was cornered. I thought about leaving. Going downstairs. Getting away from him. From this.
I didn’t.
I said, “One of the first memories I have is being in the forest with my dad. Deep in the forest. I was on his shoulders. His hands were wrapped around my calves. I was… two? I think. I don’t remember what he was talking about. I just remember what the trees smelled like. How old it was. How much bigger it was than me. I felt… small. But safe. I was with my dad. And I knew nothing could ever hurt me.”
He arched an eyebrow. “I smell like you sitting on your dad?”
I groaned. “No. Christ, that’s not what I’m—it was the forest, okay? I was happy. Above all else, I remember being happy. My dad was smiling and laughing, and the forest just felt so… alive. So green.”
“Green is relief.”
“Yeah. But that’s not all. It’s more than that. Grander. It’s strong. And all-encompassing. There’s nothing like it in all the world.” I couldn’t look at him. It was too much.
“That’s what I smell like?”
I nodded.
“Oh,” he said. “Okay.”
And then he climbed up onto the bed and slid over close to the wall. He pulled the covers back and then over him, laying his head on the pillow. He rested his hands on his chest as he stared at the ceiling.
“What are you doing?”
“Sleeping,” he said. “It’s what beds are for.”
I almost said not always, but managed to avoid it by the skin of my teeth. “You’re not going to shift?”
“Nope.”
“O… kay.”
“Problem?”
“No,” I said hastily. “No problem.”
“You sound like a problem. Thump, thump, thump. Fast.”
I pressed my hands against my chest as if that could block the sound. “You don’t always have to listen to my heart.”
“Loud,” he grumbled. “Never goes away.”
I was a Bennett. A second to a powerful Alpha. I wasn’t as big as I used to be, but I was still strong. I could do this. I stood from the desk. I walked over to the light switch, flipped it off. The only light came from my phone charging on the desk and the remains of the moon through the window.
And Gavin’s eyes, glittering in the dark, watching every step I took toward the bed.
I didn’t allow myself to think as I lay down beside him. He yelped when my feet brushed against his legs. “Cold,” he said. “Stupid Carter.”
“Yeah, yeah. Move over.”
“I need room.”
“Not that much—are you laughing at me?”
“Yes. You’re so weird.”
“Fuck you.”
He yawned. “Maybe later.”
“What?”
“Shh. Sleeping.” But then he rolled over on his side, facing me. I tried not to look at him, but I was helpless not to. His face was inches from mine. His breath smelled like my toothpaste. Which meant he probably had used my toothbrush again, the fucking monster. “Hey.”
I rolled my eyes. “Hey.”
“Gordo told me about stuff.”
“At the park?”
He nodded. “Said it was okay if I hated him. Because of what his mom did to my mom.”
“Do you?”
He paused, considering. Then, “No. His mom hurt by Livingstone. In her head. I know what that feels like. In my head too.”
Shards of ice embedded into my skin. “Is it… loud, still?”
“Sometimes.”
“You can’t listen to it.”
“I know.”
“You stay here. You stay here with me.”
“With you,” he whispered. He reached up and poked my cheek. My forehead. The tip of my nose. “I found you. You found me. We find each other.” He said, “I was little. Human. Thomas came. Big man. Biggest man. He said hullo Gavin. My name is Thomas. And I have something to tell you. I listened. I believed him. He said find me, Gavin. If you ever need me. Find me. I asked him why. Why I was here. Why I couldn’t go with him. He said I have to be safe. That it was better for me to be safe. I yelled at him. He said hush, Gavin, it’s okay. You’re okay. I promise. I didn’t believe him. He said he had sons. Three of them. Good boys, he said. Good, good boys. I asked him to show me. To show me wolves. He did. He shifted. White wolf. Big white wolf. He pressed his nose against me. I said oh. It was… a feeling. I don’t know. Bright. Like sun. Warm. I remembered that. After he left. After I was bitten. After I turned. I tried to hold on to it. Like anchor. Like tether. Too hard. Lost. But then I come here and thump, thump, thump.” He pressed his hand flat against my chest, right above my heart. “Real. It was real. Didn’t know what to do. Tried to drag you away. Almost bit Kelly because he tried to stop me. Didn’t, though. But you. You were like Thomas. Big man. Biggest man. But you didn’t smell like him.”
I felt like I was dreaming. “What—what did I smell like?”
His eyes glowed violet in the dark. “It’s… hard. To put into words. When you go outside and it’s cold. You take a deep breath. It stings. It hurts, but not like bad. Lungs fill. It burns. Good burn. It’s clean. It’s wild. That’s you. You fill my lungs and you burn me on the inside.” He closed his eyes. “Don’t hate Gordo. Don’t hate Thomas. Don’t hate anyone. I did for a long time. But hate is hard to hold on to. You have to want it. I don’t want it.”
“Gavin.”
“Shh,” he said. “Sleeping.”
And then he did.
Just like that.
I stayed awake for a long time after, watching the light from the moon move across the wall.
snow
Christmas was quiet. Not subdued, but close. We knew what was hanging over us, knew there were
others fighting in our name in the cold of a Minnesota winter. Gavin was already downstairs by the time I awoke. My bedroom door was open, and I could hear him talking with Jessie and my mother in the kitchen.
I tried not to think about where I was a year ago, but I couldn’t escape it. Last Christmas I’d slept in my truck in a field in the middle of nowhere. I’d only been on the road for a couple of weeks, and everything inside me had been screaming that I’d made a mistake, that I needed to turn around and go home.
Don’t. Touch. Him.
I’d continued on along the secret highways.
I looked over at the space where Gavin had been. There was a short black hair on the pillow.
I got out of bed and went downstairs, following the Christmas music playing on the radio. Judy Garland was singing a cover of “Have Yourself A Merry Little Christmas.” I always thought it was the saddest song.
I stopped in the entryway to the kitchen.
Bambi sat at the table, her hands wrapped around a mug of coffee. Jessie was next to her, cooing over Joshua, who rested in Dominique’s arms.
But it all fell away when I saw my mother dancing with Gavin.
He was still in his sleep shorts. He wore a shirt that was too big for him. He had on pink socks, one sliding all the way down to his ankle, the other halfway up his calf. My mother was in a robe, her hair pulled back, her face makeup-free. They had to know I was there, but they didn’t look my way.
“There,” my mother said. “That’s it. Side to side. Shuffle. You don’t need to lift your feet. Listen to the music. Feel the beat. Slow. Slow.” His hands were on her hips, hers on his shoulders. She laughed. “There you go. That’s it. You’re a natural.”
You love him, Joe whispered in my head.
He swayed with my mother as Judy sang that someday we’d all be together, if the fates allowed.
Until then, we’d have to muddle through.
Somehow.
The song ended.
My mother, my ridiculous and wonderful mother, curtsied in front of him.
Gavin, not to be outdone, bowed awkwardly.
Jessie and Bambi clapped.
Dominique laughed.
Joshua held up his tiny little hand.
And Gavin smiled. It was blinding.
