by T. S. Joyce
Gia wiped her eyes and looked at Peanut Butter Spike. He was rubbing his body happily down the side of the wall, tongue lolled out to the side and a doggy smile on his face. He did look happy. And she hadn’t seen his legs in a year. The haircut was hideous, but she couldn’t deny he wasn’t missing the rubber bands and long fur. “But a Mohawk?”
Creed chuckled and pulled her closer. “I can shave the Mohawk off, but the boys and I think he looks like a little badass.”
“I shouldn’t have said that.” Guilt gutted her, and she sniffled. “I shouldn’t have said I couldn’t trust you with our kid. You should’ve asked me first, but you were trying to make my dog feel more comfortable.”
“It’s okay. I understand why you were upset, and you’re right. I should’ve called. I thought I would surprise you with his haircut, and you would think it’s cute, but clearly I know nothing about women.”
Gia laughed thickly and wrapped her arms around his waist, snuggling against him. “I just went crazy.”
“I Googled pregnancy shit all last night, and this stuff is normal.”
Gia eased back and searched his eyes, but he didn’t seem to be joking. “What did you Google?”
“Uh, how to be a supportive partner, what to expect in the delivery room, what you can’t eat.” He leaned back on his locked arms and drew his knee up so she could lean on it. “I even watched a birth video, which was horrifying. It gave me nightmares. I have a whole new respect for women. If it was up to men to go through that, we’d be extinct. Now, what were you going to show me before you got pissed about Spike?”
She narrowed her eyes at his use of a name that was not her dog’s, but padded into the living room to retrieve the bag of maternity clothes she’d picked out with Willa today. Carefully, and aware that he was watching her every move, Gia set the clothes out one by one on the bed.
Creed grabbed a pair of jeans and pulled on the elastic waists. “No more rubber bands on your buttons.”
“Nope.”
“Go put these on. I want to see them,” he said with an indulgent grin.
There was no way a busy, burly, alpha lumberjack was interested in a fashion show from her, but she’d play along because she really wanted to show him her new clothes. With a relieved sigh that he wasn’t mad at her for the maniac tantrum she’d just thrown, she grabbed the jeans and a new, red, long-waisted sweater, and changed in the bathroom. “You know,” she called through the door. “Clothes are really cheap in Saratoga.”
“Yeah? Did you have money left over? You could’ve bought yourself more.”
“No, I didn’t have to spend any of the money you gave me. I had enough. More than enough.”
“Oh. But I wanted to take care of some of this stuff for you. You’ve spent so much on doctor’s appointments already, and I haven’t done anything. I want to take care of you.”
She smiled and opened the door. “Sweet daddy bear,” she murmured, turning this way and that for him to see her new outfit. “I made an appointment with a new doctor in town, so you can pay for our next appointment if you really want to.”
“Yeah. Would you mind if I came to it with you? Or is that…?” He shook his head and shrugged with a confused look on his face.
“I think it would be okay.” Unexpected shyness washed over her and warmth crept up her neck. “I mean, I would like you to be there with me. This all feels less scary when you’re around.”
Creed scratched the back of his head and nodded. “Good.”
“Porch is done!” Jason yelled from outside.
“Okay, are you ready for another surprise?”
“What surprise?” she asked suspiciously. Because Peanut Butter being taken over by the Gray Backs had definitely not been a pleasant one.
“You’ll like this one, I promise,” Creed said, offering his palm to her.
She slid her hand into his and followed him out of the trailer onto the sprawling porch.
Jason was standing outside the door, a hammer resting on his shoulder. “I’ll accept your apology now.”
She snorted and gave him a tiny side hug. “There.”
Jason beamed. “Good enough. Accepted.”
“So,” Creed said, leading her down the stairs. “I know the trailer isn’t what you’re used to—”
“It’s fine. Really.”
“Yeah, well Willa told me about the mansion you grew up in with the big ass rose gardens and all, and I know I can’t give you that, but look.” He gripped her shoulders gently and turned her to look at the porch.
In the evening light, 1010 really did look much better with the beautiful outdoor space the boys had built. Clinton was even hanging strands of outdoor lights from a pergola above the porch.
“In the spring, I’ll build you some flower boxes to put around it and maybe some bench seating and a spruce-wood table if you want it. I’ll make it a safe place for our kid to play. Willa told me you’d always wanted a big porch with rocking chairs, so I went to Asheland Mobile Park right after I got back from the landing.”
“You did?” she asked, looking up at him.
“Yeah, come on.” Creed led her to his truck, which was parked at an angle in her side yard. Different sizes of lumber hung out across the open tailgate, but that wasn’t what he was after. Two matching rocking chairs sat in the back. He pulled them out, one in each hand, as if they weighed nothing.
“Oh, Creed,” she said on a gasp. She ran her fingers down the distressed, antique white paint. The cushions were a soft gray with darker gray bears printed all over them. “Who made these?”
“Did you meet Cassie, Matt’s sister? And Riley? They make this stuff. Real quality work, so I bought these off of them before they took them to the flea market this weekend. I’ve asked them to make a little rocking chair, too.”
She looked up at him, her heart swelling with emotion. “For our baby?”
He nodded and kissed her forehead. “They’ll have it done as soon as they track down a kid’s-sized rocker. Come on, Bombshell. Tell me where you want these.”
Bombshell. She’d hated the nickname before now, but when Creed said it, it was with an easy curve to his lips and affection in his warm tone. He didn’t say it to hurt her. He just wanted to call her by a pet name, like Matt did with Willa.
She followed him up the stairs and scooped Peanut Butter Spike into her arms, cuddled him close as he licked under her chin. Standing here in the waning light, the sun sinking behind the breathtaking mountain scenery behind her trailer, happiness washed over her.
Creed talked about his day, about how they’d actually gone without fighting and met their numbers. He seemed happy, relaxed, and looked back at her with an easy smile as he positioned the rocking chairs where she pointed.
He sat in one, and she in the other, hugging her dog and smiling at Creed as he talked about the dinner he was going to make her tonight.
And it struck her that she didn’t want this to be a temporary stop on her way to a life down in Saratoga—dangerous thoughts since Creed hadn’t bonded to her.
In her heart, she secretly wished that someday Creed would see her as more than the easy friendship he was forging with her.
Chapter Eight
The old, warped, brown plastic shower in 1010 didn’t have a plug to the drain, and Gia was desperate for a warm bath to relax the tight muscles in her hips. She’d turned on an old static-laden radio she’d found in the bathroom closet and lit a single candle she’d found, but there would be no bath unless she could figure out how to stop up the dad-gummed drain.
Willa was smart and would probably have something rigged up in no time, but Gia was already undressed, and the prospect of re-dressing to beg for help was unappealing. Maybe if she shoved her shaving cream cap over the hole, the water pressure would hold it down enough to stop up the drain.
The water was loud and already hot as it blasted out of the faucet, and she held the cap over the rim of the drain until the water rose above it. Come on, baby,
one time!
She turned the tap off, took her hand away, and waited. She didn’t hear any water draining, and the water line looked like it was holding steady. Even if it was going down a little, it was still a victory. She’d have to be careful not to kick the cap, but she was getting her bath, hooray! She’d even sprung for bubbles at the grocery store. Sure, it was a cheap, cartoon kiddy bubble bath and smelled like cotton candy, but whatever. This right here was about to be a little slice of heaven.
Gia groaned as she slipped into the water and smoothed the thick layer of bubbles over her like a blanket. She never wanted to leave.
A soft knock rapped on her bathroom door, and she jumped, splashing suds out the side of the tub. “Shit,” she muttered. “What?”
“It’s me,” Creed said.
Gia’s eyes flew open, and she rushed to cover back up with bubbles. “Come in.”
“Uh, I can come back later.” A pause and then, “Dangit, um…never mind. I’ll talk to you in the morning.”
“No! Come in, I mean it. I’m decent.” Or decent enough if the bubbles stayed in place. Plus Creed sounded nervous, and she definitely didn’t want to wait until morning to find out what he wanted.
Creed opened the door and entered, but when he saw her in the bathtub, he jolted to a stop as if he’d been shot. “No,” he said on a raspy breath. He took a step back. “No, no, no.” Horror filled his voice.
Gia looked around in panic for the danger. “What’s wrong?”
Creed was panting, chest heaving, and his eyes had lightened to an inhuman silver color. He bolted from the room, slamming into the washer with his hip as he passed.
“Creed!” she yelled.
The front door banged closed hard enough to shake the whole trailer. What the hell? She looked down at herself, but she was still completely covered in bubbles. And anyway, why should he be so offended by her body? He’d slept with her before. Self-consciousness was a bitter passenger as she kicked the cap and stood. The water and bubbles drained around her feet, and she hit the shower, wincing as the cold water pelted against her skin. When all the soap suds had washed from her skin, she grabbed a towel and slipped and slid into the bedroom where she dressed double-time. After she’d pulled a pair of floppy snow boots over her sweat pants, she strode through the living room to the front door. He wasn’t on the porch or anywhere in the side yard that was illuminated by the strands of outdoor lights.
Her body had changed a lot, and now he was being cruel. She didn’t understand him. He’d kissed her and seemed attracted to her one minute, and the next, the sight of her in a bubble bath made him flee faster than when she’d told him she was pregnant.
Movement in the trees made her leave the safety of the porch light and sprint for the woods. But when she drew nearer to the movement, it wasn’t Creed at all, but Easton.
Chills rippled up her arms as she skidded to a stop. “What are you doing out here?”
“Watching your mate run,” he said gruffly, shifting his weight from side to side. His eyes were glowing green.
Gia backed up a step out of self-preservation. “He’s not my mate. Did you see where he went?”
“Same place he always goes when he sees the waves. To Bear Trap Falls.”
Shaking her head, Gia frowned. “I…I don’t understand.”
“Ah,” he rumbled. Pausing, he canted his head. “Gray Back Alpha Bear didn’t tell you, did he?”
“Tell me what?”
“About the water.”
“What about the water?” She was growing frustrated and ready to leave the conversation. Clearly, Easton was nuts.
“Can’t say anymore. Not my place to expose ghosts, and besides, don’t like talking to a dead woman. You’ll be a ghost soon, too.” His eyes went sad, and the glow lost its luminosity. “I don’t want you to go. I won’t Turn you, though. Never again. Never again. I hurt Willa. Won’t hurt you. But I don’t want you to go.”
A shiver trembled up her spine as she backed away faster. He hurt Willa? “You’re hurting me, too, by talking about me dying, Easton. I’m not going to die. I’m strong.”
Easton looked uncertain. “I’m hurting you?”
“Yes. Every time you talk about me dying, it scares me and hurts me. It makes me think you don’t like me. Why else would you say awful things like that?”
He shook his head and backed away a few steps, then crouched down, angling his head until his neck was exposed. “You don’t have to be scared of me. You’re mate of my alpha. I’m nothing.”
He wasn’t nothing. Easton was dangerous, and she didn’t understand him. And being out here alone with him was a terrible idea.
“Can you wait here?” Easton asked softly, neck still exposed. “Just for a moment? I made you something.”
“I don’t know if I should…”
Easton was gone, and the rustle of brush was the only proof he’d been there at all. When she backed up, she tripped over an exposed tree root and barely caught herself. And then he was back, approaching slowly, crouched down, neck exposed. He set something down near her feet, then backed away. He gestured to what looked like a knife in a leather sheath. “For you.”
“You made this? For me?”
Easton nodded. “I made it just like Willa’s. Clinton said girls like things that match. I want to take you to Bear Trap Falls, but you’re afraid of me. I can smell it.” He waved in front of his nose. “Acrid. Bitter. Ask Willa to take you to your mate. She will. Willa’s good.”
“Okay,” Gia said, shocked.
Easton stood and walked away. “Goodnight,” he said over his shoulder.
“Night.” When Easton disappeared behind a cluster of pines, Gia bent forward and plucked the knife off the ground. Slowly, she pulled it from its fine sheath. Gia didn’t know much about knives, but she knew about nice purses, and this leather was very good quality.
She looked off in the direction Easton had disappeared and could’ve sworn she saw the light reflecting oddly, like headlights illuminating an animal’s eyes. They glowed eerily, completely still. “Thank you,” she called.
He didn’t answer, but there was no doubt he’d heard her.
Okay, so according to Easton’s riddles, Creed had an issue with water? She turned and made her way toward Matt and Willa’s trailer, tucking the knife back into its sheath, and then into the pocket of her sweats. She knocked softly and hoped Willa and Matt weren’t already asleep.
Willa answered almost immediately.
“Can you take me to Bear Trap Falls?”
Willa’s face fell. “Creed?”
Gia nodded.
“Yeah,” she said, pulling a flashlight from a chest near the door.
“I thought you could see in the dark,” Gia said.
“Oh, this isn’t for me. This is for you, human.” She smirked and handed her the heavy metal flashlight.
Gia clicked it on and followed Willa toward the woods. She dragged the light across the ground in front of her, over ferns and moss, dry October grass and twigs. Stepping around a tree stump, she said, “Easton gave me a knife like yours.”
Willa smiled in the dim light beside her and held out her hand. “Let me see it.”
After Gia dug it out of her pocket, she set it gingerly on Willa’s outstretched palm.
“Shine the light here,” Willa murmured.
Gia shone the beam of light on the sliver of blade Willa had exposed.
C + G was etched into the hilt in crisp, cursive letters, so small she might have missed it if Willa hadn’t pointed it out. “C plus G?”
“Creed and Gia,” Willow murmured. “Easton must like you for Creed. Mine says M + W, but I didn’t find it for a month. Easton never pointed it out.”
Gia’s mouth hung open. “But he’s wrong. We’re not like you and Matt. Creed never bonded to me. I’m not his mate, just someone he slept with.”
“Mmm,” Willa said noncommittally. “Well, Easton gave you the knife because he sees it differently. E
aston sees everything differently.”
She handed Gia the knife back and began walking again, strides long and purposeful.
“Easton still says I’m going to die.”
“Yeah, well, you’re not. I asked Matt about that, and he buttoned his lips and refused to talk about Easton. In fact, Jason and Clinton did the same thing. I guess they don’t talk about each other’s issues. Admirable, but damned frustrating. Hey, you should brag to Clinton that you got one of Easton’s knives. He’ll poop himself with jealousy.”
Willa’s bright red, spiky ponytail bobbed in front of Gia with every step her friend took. And after a while, the sounds of crickets and cicadas gave way to babbling water.
“Right through there,” Willa pointed to a trail that snaked through the trees. “He won’t hurt you.”
Wouldn’t hurt her? “Okay, thanks.” Gia waved to Willa and made her way carefully through the night woods. It was chilly out, but the hike had warmed her. Her shivering wasn’t from cold, but from nervousness. Something big was happening with the man she was falling in love with. Something that obviously caused him great pain.
Gia crested a ridge and stopped short. The river was choppy this close to the falls, and the full moon’s reflection seemed to twitch this way and that across the breaking waves. And along the sandy beach, a grizzly, as black as night—her grizzly—paced along the water’s edge. He looked trapped like a caged bear she’d seen once at a zoo. As if he was contemplating escape after years of confinement. Only Creed’s escape was dry land, and his long black claws were tearing up the sand but never touching the water.
“Creed?”
He shot her a flippant glance, then turned and paced away. She watched him for what seemed like eternity. Her heart grew heavier and heavier until she couldn’t stand being so far away from him. Not when he was like this. Not when he was hurting.
She stepped carefully onto the sand and kicked off her snow boots. The ground was cold against the pads of her feet as she moved toward Creed. He was intimidatingly big, but when she was close enough, he stopped his frantic pacing and lowered his nose, pressed his giant forehead softly against her chest.
