And blood oath aside, she didn’t fully trust him to stay so there was no point in getting attached for a second time only to be disappointed.
At least that’s what she kept telling herself in the hopes that tiny voice whispering what ifs would be quiet.
Chapter Six
Following his conversation with Imogene, Landon sat through the most awkward family dinner of his thirty-one years of life. His mother’s annoyance about the blood oath had been overshadowed by how pointedly Matthew ignored Tyler who’d barely looked away from his plate. Only Riley and Charlie had kept up a pretense of normal since Alexis spent the majority of dinner glaring at her brother and the twins stayed absorbed in their cellphones. However, he did get a “welcome home, buddy” from Mathew and squeeze to his shoulder before he left, then retreated to sleep his way into a better day.
With the morning sun shining in his face, he took a quick shower then pulled on a pair of jeans and a sweatshirt against the morning’s lingering chill. A pair of workboots were slid on then he ducked out the back door, navigating toward the old shed his mother had mentioned without any real difficulty despite how long it had been since he saw it. He wasn’t entirely sure whether the memory belonged to him or his wolf, but neither prepared him for what waited for him when the trees finally parted.
His steps came up short almost three feet away as he inspected the shed that was much nicer than he’d recalled. Someone, likely Tyler, had put a lot of work into updating the place. It had more resemblance to a cabin than a shed, though bits and pieces of that old craftsmanship lingered in its structure. Even a small porch with a rocking chair had been added onto it, but he noted the windows were obviously blacked out which made him frown since Tyler had always been the most sociable of them.
Approaching the door, he lifted a hand to knock yet found it opening before he’d even completed the knock. Immediate concern set in as he inspected the uncharacteristic paleness and dark half moons under his brother’s eyes and heard himself ask, “Have you been to sleep?”
Tyler’s head gave a small shake then he stepped back, gesturing into the dimly lit room. “I got caught up in a project,” he explained before closing the door behind him. “You want coffee?”
“Sure.”
Landon’s eyes swept around the small space, taking in the fact over three-quarters of the cabin seemed dedicated to the workshop. Tools lined two of the four walls along with stacks of wood in various shapes, colors, and half-finished projects, though a few finished pieces were on the small, livable side. A circular table with two chairs, a nightstand, and several bookcases were the most noticeable pieces since he could distinctly remember the bed frame being in the main house once upon a time. Only a few blankets, plaid shirts thrown over a chair, an open book, and dirty dishes in the small kitchen area said someone lived here more than minimally, but he resisted the urge to begin a rapidfire interrogation.
“How long have you been living out here?” he questioned, twisting one of the chairs around to straddle it. “This place was falling apart back in the day . . .”
Tyler glanced over one shoulder. “About eight years, I think. It wasn’t a terrible place to be exiled.”
Landon’s brows furrowed at those words. “Because of Alexis?”
The tension grew before his brother echoed, “Because of Alexis.”
Giving his attention to the table in front of him, he ran his fingers over the wood and admired the craftsmanship. It was obvious that Tyler’s skill from the early days, something they’d all teased him about, had only improved with age, and the amount of projects said it had likely become a full-time job amid wolf duties. He’d only been whittling back in the day which explained the long line of animal and people figurines lined atop up the bookshelves.
A mug of coffee appeared in front of him then Tyler tossed the shirts onto the bed and settled into the chair opposite him. “You want to know what happened with Alexis,” he stated, not bothering to phrase it as a question. “The others could have told you.”
“I want to hear it from you,” Landon replied before lifting the coffee to take a drink. It tasted dark and bitter without an ounce of cream or sugar. “When I left, you, Riley, and Alexis were the three musketeers with more claws. In fact, I’m surprised Riley just let you be exiled.”
The corner of Tyler’s lips hitched into a smile that disappeared as quickly as it had appeared. “Have you ever known Riley to be the rebellious type, nose ring aside? She wasn’t happy about my exile, but she went along with it,” he finally said, staring down at his own mug. “Plus she wasn’t real happy with me because of the Alexis thing and that was before Matthew had his fit.”
“How big of a fit are we talking?”
Tyler hesitated then tugged aside the neck of his shirt to show a long scar running from his collarbone down in a diagonal slash. It had obviously been made by silver to leave such a clear scar after what had to be years, though Landon felt his hands clenched into fists at the idea Matthew had done it. Despite being a human, Matthew had known more about wolves than most, including the dangers of silver, which said his intent had likely been on the fatal side when he’d left that mark.
“Charlie broke things up, but it was one more reason for Mom to insist on the exile,” Tyler explained, tugging his shirt back into place. “It didn’t exactly help his mood that Alexis took off within days of my exile, and didn't keep contact with anyone except the occasional text to Riley. Within a week of that, Matthew had moved out and cut all ties to anything pack related aside from Sunday dinner and the twins.”
The more details he got about the situation, the more Landon felt guilty for his absence and Tyler having to face this alone. It wasn’t lost on him that Tyler still hadn’t provided details of exactly how Alexis had ended up turned. He wanted to push except the morose look had him switching tactics to question, “Was it a full three years?”
He gave a slow nod. “Yeah, it’s how I had time to overhaul the shed since I couldn’t be involved with anything pack-related. The only interactions I had were food deliveries which sometimes came with notes from Riley since until then, we’d never spent more than a few days apart.”
Instead of asking more questions, he tried to imagine what three years of exile would have been like for someone like Tyler who had always enjoyed people and interacting with them. He’d always been quick to laugh and ready for anything yet that no longer seemed like the person staring back at him. It had obviously changed him to be cut off, and he couldn’t just say mentally since his brother had never been a fan of long hair or his current manbun. In fact, they’d made fun of that exact hairstyle numerous times, but it seemed the norm along with the rough qualities of his hands where they held the mug and his collection of plaid.
“If you’re out of exile, why do you still live here instead of moving back into the big house with Mom and Riley?” he questioned, genuinely curious. “Or one of the closer cabins like Charlie’s.”
“I’m comfortable on my own.” His words left no room for argument before he continued, “Besides you do remember what it’s like living with Mom, right? At least now I’m able to go up to the house for meals or to see Riley or the normal pack stuff. I can see the twins again, too.”
“So where does that leave you and Alexis? I haven’t spent much time with her, but she seems relatively well adapted to her wolf,” Landon said, then lifted his terrible coffee to take a drink. “Did Mom train her?”
Tyler shook his head again. “No one really knows what happened in the years she was gone, not even Riley, but she showed back up two years ago and went through the steps to become pack. I think everyone was relieved enough she hadn’t died to not ask questions so she and I just . . . give each other plenty of space.”
Landon’s brows furrowed at those words, but he didn’t question it, having seen their version of space. It had made family dinner super awkward with Matthew’s stoicism contributing, too, though his mother’s attitude hadn’t helped eith
er. Contrary to what he’d have done in his younger days, he switched topics to question, “How are you adapting to being Charlie’s second?”
“If you’re asking has anything changed, not really. I might live out here by myself, but I keep tabs on the others and make sure any threats to Charlie are neutralized,” he said, gesturing toward his phone. “I have surveillance here and contacts in town. Besides, it’s common pack knowledge that I’ll secede to Elliot should anything happen to Charlie so it’s just a title.”
“Does Scott know it’s just a title?” he questioned as he remembered the other wolf’s annoyance with his return. “He seems pretty set that you’re next in line.”
Tyler rolled his eyes. “Scott also thinks only purebreds matter, women should be in the kitchen, and that his sons are good people so what does that tell you about his reasoning?”
Despite himself, Landon found a chuckle escaping. “I see your point. What about the guard?”
Tension settled into Tyler’s shoulders, but he gave a shrug and averted his gaze toward his mug. “It hasn’t changed. I mean, we still have the schedules and patrols, but there hasn’t been an actual threat since your buddies took off,” he said, pausing for a drink. “Are you serious about joining back up?”
“Yes.” He immediately answered before he elaborated, “I feel like diving back into things with the pack will make it easier, but I have to imagine the others won’t exactly be thrilled by my return.”
A snort met his words. “We have targets with your face on it.”
“Seriously?”
Tyler’s smirk made it impossible to tell whether that was truth or a lie, though the follow-up words of, “Guess you’ll have to pay a visit and see” made Landon laugh, quietly.
While he wasn’t exactly looking forward to reuniting with the guard, and braced to get his ass kicked, he knew avoiding them was impossible if he wanted to stay in Worsham. Maybe it wouldn’t be so bad now that he didn’t have the same rank within the succession line, though he didn’t see them being the forgive and forget type. Hell, he was still surprised how easily Riley had accepted him back, but he was confident that was just a fluke of personality.
Not wanting to dwell on possible ways a reunion with the guard could go, he switched topics once more.
“When did you become a fan of man buns? Not that you aren’t rocking it.”
Tyler laughed, quietly. “It started during exile then I kind of liked it,” he said, giving a shrug. One hand ran back over his hair. “It sets me apart from Charlie, too. You know how that works.”
“Is that also why Elliot’s chosen the goth look?” he asked only to be met with a shrug. “Or do we think he genuinely enjoys it?”
“If I recall, you made some questionable fashion choices back in the day,” Tyler reminded him, though the conversation seemed to have taken away some of the strain on his face. “But I won’t drag those albums out if you let me return to my solitude.”
Despite the laugh, Landon sobered up to question, “You’re really okay being out here all by yourself? The truth, Ty.”
Instead of answering, Tyler tossed back his coffee and drained what lingered within the cup.
“Yes.”
His tone held a note of finality as he rose from the table, taking the mug with him.
“I’m fine, Landon, but I do need to get some sleep before guard practice so why don’t you head back up to the house? Or you could go into town and pay the library a visit, see if your favorite brunette is working. Maybe she can help you find something else to worry about.”
Taking the hint, he drained the remains of his disgusting coffee and dumped it into the sink. He exchanged a quick hug with his brother before stepping outside, realizing he now had more questions than the answers he’d gotten from their talk. Was he just doomed to a life of not knowing as punishment for vanishing?
Maybe he needed a drink instead of answers.
Chapter Seven
The flyers were back.
Imogene barely made it a half dozen steps into the massive, red brick library when a white sheet with black handwriting, including a large no sign, caught her eyes on the bulletin board leading into the lobby. It had been a little over two weeks since the last one, part of why Micah had dismissed discussion of them at Landon’s tribunal, but it was identical down to the symbol stamped in the bottom left corner. She yanked them down without hesitation and shoved them into her bag then checked the front bulletin board where three more were tacked with one including a drawing of a particularly vicious looking wolf standing over a graphic drawing of a dead or dying body.
Only three months earlier the first flyers had begun to appear, generally in public areas, and warn against consorting with wolves. Given the town had been aware of the existence of wolves for nearly one hundred years, it wasn’t uncommon to talk about or interact with them, though whoever made the posters had a different attitude. All the posters claimed wolves were indiscriminate killers out to destroy the human race and encouraged a lack of service to them; however, no one had paid them too much attention until their presence became a regular occurrence yet nothing much had changed in Worsham.
“More?” The question came from Lucinda, an older brunette who had been head librarian for the past ten years, as the last flyers were being shoved into her bag. She’d always been an adamant supporter of the wolves being open about their existence and employed several, including Imogene who’d started with a part time job in high school that escalated to a full-time one following graduation.
“Yeah, I was beginning to miss them,” Imogene replied with a smile. “How did your son’s concert go last night? I wasn’t able to make it due to pack things, but I did see the video you posted this morning.”
Lucinda smiled at her. “It was perfect, made me very glad I didn’t follow through on throwing out that trombone when he brought it home,” she said, reaching for her coffee. “I’m actually able to tell what Tony’s playing now, and he’s coming out of his shell with more time around kids his own age. He even had a friend over to practice together, kept insisting she was just a friend which made me think of you and that Miller boy.”
Imogene bit her lip to smother laughter at the reminder of how well-known her relationship with Landon had been growing up. Thankfully, Lucinda wasn’t the type to frequent Bordertown or speak with too many pack members so likely she didn’t know about his return. It was just a memory that had come to mind given how much time she’d dedicated to convincing the older librarian their relationship meant nothing special.
“What was his name again? I know it wasn’t Charlie because he was already married by then, and the twins were still little bitty things. You remember his name, dear.”
“Landon,” Imogene said without further prompting. “Although speaking of Landon, he’s back in town.”
Lucinda cast a curious glance in her direction. “Really? I hadn’t heard, and Steven didn’t mention anything at our last get-together.”
“It’s recent.” Her purse and keys were stashed in the cabinet beneath the circulation desk along with her jacket before she moved to the cart of returned books. Shifting through the contents, she pointed out, “He’s only been back a day or so, and you know family takes priority. He turned up at Bordertown which is probably the closest he’s come to town.”
“But you’ve seen him.” It wasn’t a question, and she could feel Lucinda’s eyes on her back. Whatever she said would begin making the gossip rounds within the hour.
“Only for pack things,” she lied as she tugged back the curly mess of her hair to wrap a ponytail holder around it. Satisfied it would stay out of her face, she began to push the cart out from behind the circulation desk. “But these books aren’t going to stack themselves so you’ll have to wait until my lunch break to ask for more gossip, including about my date last week.”
Turning down the first row, Imogene skimmed the titles on the cart then picked up several to begin shelving them. An occasional check w
ould be done to the spines of books before she slid a book into the correct place, enjoying the silence aside from the occasional voice of someone browsing the stacks. The library remained nowhere near the level of busy in years past, but there were still those who liked to pop in or spend time on the computers which kept her in a job. A lot of her time went into quiet contemplation which didn’t bother her too much on a normal day.
However, the lack of conversation had her thinking about not only the flyers that kept appearing but her conversation with Landon on the docks. He’d been so morose throughout it, nothing like the bold and confident guy who’d been her best friend all through middle and high school. His words about the dead not caring about the living stuck with her because how had he survived whatever has presumably taken out the rest of his so-called brothers?
Being lost in her thoughts about what might have actually brought him home prevented her from realizing she was no longer alone in the row until Landon questioned, “Where would I find a book on convincing people you aren’t an asshole?”
Her lips turned down as she paused in mid-shelve, glancing toward him. “Have you tried self-help? They’re the first aisle when you come in.” She slid the book into its space before she pushed the cart past him. “It’s probably going to require more than running away, though.”
“That’s a very unfriendly tone for a librarian,” he said, easily keeping pace with her cart. “If I didn’t know better, I’d think you were the new Mrs. Lucinda.”
Imogene rolled her eyes. “Lucinda still works here. Why don’t you go say hi?”
Pausing beside another section of fantasy books, she picked up several books and put them on the shelf in the appropriate places. Two authors in the wrong place were switched as she tried to ignore him, hoping he’d take her up on the offer to go see the older librarian.
Rule of Claw: Wolves of Worsham #1 Page 4
