by Alex Kidwell
When he took a closer look, though, he saw the edge of a scalpel and plastic wrapping jutting out of the box closest to him. Redford couldn’t resist flipping the lid of the box to peek inside. “This is actual medical equipment,” he said, stunned.
“Yes, I did say that.” Cedric frowned. “Unfortunately this pack seems to think proper medicine is how the devil gets inside you.”
Redford had to smile at that. “Are you a doctor?”
“A properly trained one with a degree, yes, unlike the soothsayers here.” Cedric, it seemed, had no patience at all for herbs and natural remedies. Redford liked him already.
“There’s a wolf here,” Redford started tentatively, “who has a degenerative condition. He’s not from the pack, but we came here in the hopes that they’d be able to treat him. It’s canine Parkinson’s, I think it’s called. But all the healers have been doing is giving him some really awful smelling herbs to put on his hands.”
Cedric snorted disdainfully. “Did they chant around him too? Good God, I have no idea how any of them survived with this primitive approach to medicine. It’s a wonder they’re not all crippled or dead.”
“So, do you think you could maybe take a look at him?” Redford asked. He wasn’t sure if it was really his place to ask such a thing for Anthony, but a second consult couldn’t hurt, right?
“If they’re not busy with packing, then I’d be all too glad to have something else to do.” As if on cue, a series of loud thumps came from upstairs, the sound of laughter and what sounded like playfighting. Cedric scowled. “I cannot abide the company of young people in such close quarters for too long.”
Redford made a mental note to introduce Cedric and Victor. He had a feeling they’d probably get on well in their misanthropy.
“Thank you.” Words couldn’t contain his gratefulness. Instead, Redford got a good grip around one of the boxes and pulled, grunting with the strain as he balanced it close against his chest. “Where do you want these?”
He put the box where Cedric directed, alongside the bags lined up against the wall. Redford worked in silence, all the while telling himself that peeking in the boxes wasn’t polite. He did have to wonder exactly what kind of medical supplies Cedric had, though, and if he’d be able to do something more for Anthony than foul-smelling herb concoctions.
Somewhere around the third box, Cedric had sat down in an old chair in the corner of the room, and by the fourth box, Redford realized that Cedric was staring at him—not in a rude way, simply watching closely.
“I imagine you’re getting a lot of odd looks,” Cedric said carefully. “I may not have been in the pack life for very long, but even I can smell that you’re not like everybody here.”
Redford worked hard to contain his embarrassed flinch, but unfortunately he wasn’t all that successful. “It’s a long story,” he mumbled. “Mostly I get weirder looks for being in love with a human.”
Cedric frowned. “Is that a bad thing?”
“Apparently.” Redford set the sixth and final box on the floor, but he couldn’t bring himself to fully face Cedric, afraid of the judgmental expression he might see on the wolf’s face. “I keep getting told that wolves and humans shouldn’t be together. And I think my…. I think Jed got told the same thing too.”
“That is the most fatuous pile of bullshit I’ve ever heard in my life,” Cedric said bluntly. “You may as well say that two women can’t be together because they can’t have children without medical help. Or that two people from different races can’t be together because they have different cultural backgrounds. What a bigoted, asinine thing to say.”
Taken aback by Cedric’s tone, Redford had to struggle for a response. That was certainly opposite what every other wolf had been telling him. “You, um, obviously think differently.”
“I had a wife of sixty years.” Cedric smiled as he said it. “We met when I was thirty and she was twenty-five. She passed away seven years ago, and I don’t regret our relationship at all. We had sixty years of the best relationship I’d ever had. She understood that I would age slower and outlive her, and that didn’t matter to her.”
“I’m sorry,” Redford said, unable to think of anything properly useful to say.
Cedric snorted. “Don’t apologize, boy. Why should anybody apologize for what we had?” He pulled his wallet out of his pocket and flipped through it until he found a photo, which he handed to Redford.
It was a picture of Cedric and his wife. Redford couldn’t pinpoint Cedric’s age in the photo, but his wife looked about forty. They looked completely and totally in love. Redford couldn’t help but smile at the picture as he handed it back. “Was she your mate? I’ve been told that… wolves don’t recover from that loss.”
“She was,” Cedric confirmed. As Redford was about to apologize for his loss yet again, perceiving that Cedric might be utterly heartbroken and alone, Cedric continued, “But I am also fine. I miss her every day, but we had sixty years together, and I am content with what we had. It doesn’t mean I will be a sobbing wreck for the rest of my life. Wolves can recover from loss just as well as any other.” He paused, scowl softening as he glanced at the photo. “We might feel things more deeply, but that means the good as well as the bad. Grief, yes, but also every happy memory, every moment of loving her, I’ve got that too. And I wouldn’t trade any of that to spare myself losing her.”
“Oh.” Redford had to take a moment to wrap his mind around that. He couldn’t imagine losing Jed and not being a wreck every day after that, but perhaps some of that grief would be eased by having a lifetime with him. “That’s just really not like what I’ve heard.”
“Everybody is different,” Cedric said. “But is eventual pain a good excuse for not trying for happiness?”
Redford wasn’t good at philosophy. To be fair, Jed was even worse at it than he was. Redford had just never managed to be very good at thinking about things like life principles or vague what ifs. “No?” he guessed.
“No, it’s not,” Cedric agreed. “There will always be pain, whether you try for it or not. Happiness is not guaranteed unless you grasp for it. So whatever those wolves have told you about being with a human, you tell them to shut their mouths, and you do what you like. We’re not clones. You least of all.”
It was one of the grumpiest motivational speeches Redford had ever heard, but he still felt strangely uplifted. “Thank you,” he said with dawning realization. “You’re right. You’re absolutely right.”
“Of course I’m right.” Cedric clearly hadn’t considered any other option. “So you go find your mate and tell him that it is within nobody’s right to give you shit about your relationship.”
“I would, but he… left.” Redford felt a piece of that motivation chip off, but it didn’t die entirely. “I promised myself I’d go find him in three days if he didn’t come back.”
“What is he, Jesus Christ?” Cedric snorted, unimpressed. “You’re not in high school, pup, and you definitely should stop acting like it. Grow some balls and talk it out.”
Redford stared at him, wide-eyed. “Yes, sir,” he said uncertainly. “I’ll, um, get on that right away.”
“Good. Go get him, or the next time I see you I’ll whack you around the head,” Cedric grumbled, but there was a smile touching the corners of his eyes. “Don’t think I won’t.”
Redford thanked him and felt a little overwhelmed as he left. He wasn’t sure what to do with all this new hope. He’d had faith before that he would find Jed, but he hadn’t been sure they’d be able to work out their problems. He still didn’t have a clear answer to that, but nothing changed the foundation of the matter: Jed was the man he loved, and nothing was going to get in the way of that.
He made a mental checklist as he went back to their cabin.
One, he had to work hard at getting his instincts under control. Though the clash of aggression and fear had lessened slightly in the recent weeks, from a combination of Jed’s help, Dr. Alona’s therapy
, and the full moon spent properly in the wild, Redford still had work to do.
Two, he would have to convince Jed that Redford hadn’t been corrupted by his influence. Redford wasn’t sure where Jed had gotten the idea that Redford was better than Jed’s job, but it was a notion he would have to help Jed get rid of. The hunters he had killed were human, yes, but killing them wasn’t anything anybody else there wouldn’t have done in a heartbeat. Redford had chosen to help Jed in his job, and it was better than his previous life in every single way. Redford liked their job.
Three, he needed to let Jed know that his being human didn’t harm their relationship at all. That one was going to be slightly tougher, Redford knew, especially surrounded by a pack that thought humans couldn’t possibly meaningfully understand them. But Redford was sure Jed did.
Checklist made, Redford determined that he would set off to find Jed at first light the next morning. As much as he wanted to rush off to find him now, contacting the appropriate people would take time, and they wouldn’t be able to drop everything to come pick Redford up.
He also thought Jed really might need some time to himself. Jed had never been good at talking about his problems. He faltered and said things badly and nearly even stuttered, obviously embarrassed to be talking so openly about his emotions and misgivings. He especially hated being taken off guard by conversations he wasn’t prepared for. For someone who felt so deeply, Jed was bafflingly unwilling to admit to it, as if he thought his emotions were a soft spot someone would use against him. Whatever the situation, when it came to the hard things, the important things, Jed was always better able to wrap his mind around them when given time to process through his knee-jerk reaction of shoving everyone and everything away as hard as he could manage.
So Redford would give him the night. He imagined that Jed would drink a lot and maybe smash some things, but problems were always clearer in the morning.
He knew Jed would come back. He had to, because Redford honestly couldn’t imagine a life without Jed in it.
Chapter 12
Jed
SOMEONE WAS knocking on the fucking door.
It was still dark out, the flickering red light of the motel sign outside barely illuminating the room. Everything seemed to be moving in slow motion, the shit ton of alcohol Jed had poured down his miserable gullet sloshing inside his head with every throb of his heart. He knew his feet were still attached to his legs, he knew his eyes were somewhere between open and closed, and he knew the knock on the door meant there was a person, or possible people, outside wanting to get in. But unfortunately, owing to said shit ton of alcohol, he wasn’t exactly up for moving. Or breathing too loudly. Or anything that required action beyond moaning in pain.
Unfortunately he hadn’t suddenly developed psychic skills, because when he thought about all the ways he wanted to skin and burn whoever was pounding on the motel door, said person didn’t stop. Eventually, Jed managed to get wobbly legs under him, half rolling off the couch, gun held loosely in his hand as he staggered across the floor.
“What the fuck do you fucking want, you fucking ass licking bastard?”
Whoever said he didn’t have charm coming out of his goddamn ears was just fucking lying.
“You stink like the floor of a bar bathroom.” It was goddamn Edwin Lewis standing there, naked as a freaking jaybird, nose wrinkled, as if Jed had offended his delicate sensibilities.
Eyes bleary and bloodshot, Jed blinked at him, brain struggling to figure out what the hell was happening. “How the fuck do you know what a goddamn bar smells like?” he grunted, scratching his chest and looking around. Were there hidden cameras? Some sort of prank where more people would jump out and surprise him? Because he had a gun, he would shoot. “Aren’t you twelve?”
“I’m twenty, and I’m not exactly an idiot.” Edwin didn’t seem to care that he was pantsless. Jed would, because he really wasn’t too keen to see all that, but he was too busy wondering why the room was rotating. “Let me in.”
“No.” Jed frowned petulantly. “You go away, unless you’re bringing more booze. Even then, put some fucking pants on.”
He moved to shut the door, but Edwin stopped it with a hand against the cheap wood, eyebrow raising. “Yeah, the last thing you need is more stuff to drink. Seriously, you look like you fell into a beer bottle and then got swished around.”
Jed decided he wasn’t up for a fight with some naked-ass wolf. So he just turned and stumbled back inside, face-planting onto the bed with a grunt. He could hear Edwin locking up behind him, but Jed decided it was much better to fish around on the nightstand through the empty bottles, looking for anything that might be left to drink.
Edwin was poking around, sniffing things, sneezing loudly at the dust he found on the chair. He sat anyway, on his heels, crouched there and still looking like he was half a wild thing. Jed just grimaced and averted his eyes. “Seriously, Cujo, get some fucking pants.”
“I must have left my clothes in my other fur,” Edwin replied with a slow grin. “Humans are such prudes. What does it matter? Do I have something you’ve never seen before?” He looked down at himself. “I think we’re pretty similar.”
“I am not discussing cock size with you, kid.” Jed found a beer that was only half done, gulping the warm, disgusting liquid like it was nectar. “Even I’m not drunk enough for that.”
Snorting, Edwin at least consented to dig through Jed’s bag and tug on a pair of sweatpants. He went back to perching on the chair, watching Jed, blue eyes bright with interest. “Why are you drunk?”
Knievel sashayed out of the bathroom, where she’d been perfectly content to sleep in the sink. Upon seeing Edwin, she chirped out a happy purr, padded over to him, and leapt gracefully up to insistently nudge her head against his knees. Edwin wound up with a delighted cat curled up on his shoulders, gnawing at his hair and flexing her claws into his chest. He didn’t seem to mind at all.
“Because,” Jed answered with a grunt, fishing out the empty whiskey bottle and staring into it mournfully. “That’s fucking why.”
“You’re not a very chatty alcoholic.” Edwin reached up to scratch behind Knievel’s ear.
“Why the fuck are you here again?” Jed glowered at him, sprawling back in bed, a heated buzzing in his ears as he choked back the insistent urge to vomit. Maybe later. Or maybe on Edwin if he didn’t stop talking. It was way too goddamn loud.
“Because you’re an idiot who left your mate.”
Jed cracked an eye open, peering over at Edwin. For a moment, no words came. It took way too long for the meaning of that to filter in, anyway. In the end, though, Jed didn’t protest. He didn’t bitch.
He did surge upward and fumble his way to the bathroom, falling down twice and slamming his shoulder painfully against the wall. As everything he’d eaten in the past two days came back up again, he thought he might have been crying. Maybe not. Maybe it was just how fucking sick he felt. In any case, passing out on the cold tile of the bathroom floor felt pretty damn good.
Jed woke up in bed, face mashed uncomfortably into a pillow. A damp feeling on the pillowcase let him know he’d been drooling, which just made the whole situation ten times worse. And there was a goddamn half-naked wolf picking around his room, sniffing the empty alcohol bottles. Jed tried to turn over, he really did, but the bed was rolling, and he wound up half propped up on his side, grunting painfully. He hooked a hand onto the side of the mattress. At least stabilizing himself made the room stop spinning a bit.
“You’re awake.” Edwin sounded way too fucking cheerful. Jed wondered if he could shoot him. No, better not. He’d have two angry wolves on his ass. “You slept a long time. And you snore.”
“If you don’t stop talking, I will do something that will make you stop.” It wasn’t his best threat, Jed would admit, but he didn’t hurl or fall off the bed while saying it, so he’d count it as a win.
“Like what? Drink me?” Edwin laughed, obviously not realizing that Jed was
one loud noise away from dying. Bastard. “You drank everything else, might as well.”
“You’re a judgmental asshole.” Gathering up all his strength, Jed hauled himself into a sitting position, clutching at the blankets for a handhold. Squinting, head throbbing, he peered over at Edwin. Who was… in his hotel room. Had they covered that yet? Jed honestly couldn’t remember. There had been drinking and puking, and somewhere between Edwin had shown up.
And before that there’d been Redford standing there, whole fucking camp swirling around him, so goddamn beautiful. A willow tree in the middle of the desert. And Jed had left him there, had driven away, because it was the best thing to do. Because he had to.
He hated himself for it. Of course he goddamn did. But Jed had been in plenty of situations with his back against the wall and no way out. He knew what it felt like. He wanted Redford to be happy. To have a shot at being whole. As much as it pissed him off, apparently he couldn’t do a damn thing to give that to him.
Edwin pressed a mug into Jed’s hands. The sharp scent of coffee hit Jed, and he practically moaned in relief. Taking huge gulps of the liquid, burning his mouth and not caring at all, he swung his legs around to the floor. Baby steps. At this rate he’d be walking by the time he was sixty. “There’s pills in my bag. Side pocket.” For good measure, Jed swiped a mostly empty bottle of Jack and tipped the last dregs of it into the coffee—hey, hair of the dog worked wonders.
Redford would have already had them out. Then again, Redford had a freaky way of knowing exactly what Jed needed before he’d gotten around to realizing it himself.
And he was going to stop thinking about Redford right the hell now, or else he’d just drink himself stupid again and not care about the consequences. Thinking about Redford made him bring up the mental image of Redford’s goddamn upset face, and even the memory of that face made Jed want to do whatever Redford asked. It wasn’t fair.
“I’m here because you left your mate.” Edwin sat on the bed beside him, looking at him like he was some curiosity. But he had the pills, so Jed just snatched those, shaking three directly into his mouth and washing them down with the fortified coffee.
