by J. K Harper
In a razor slice of a second, Slade had the guy pinned on the mat in an inescapable hold. Tigger slammed the ground with his orange-and-black striped paw, bellowing with the agonized rage of defeat as Slade threatened to break both his arms, and maybe a leg too while he was at it. The ref nodded, her piercing whistle loosing over the fight club. It was over.
Slade flung up his hands and roared out his own victory, striding around the ring with his fists in the air and his nose still pouring out blood, to the surging cry of the crowd of lunatics.
His fuckin' kind, bless the nutjobs.
“Winner!” screeched the ref, pitching her raptor voice high enough to shriek over the madly bellowing crowd. The gleam in her eye and a quick nod told Slade she was happy he'd won. A Deep Hollow local, she'd root for the hometown boy against a tiger shifter from some other state. But she'd refereed fair and square.
Damn straight, he'd won this fight fucking fair and square. He mentally reached inside himself as he strode around the ring, searching for relief. The pure satisfaction of having won something, done something, that was a pretty good job.
Instead, the endless little burn of shame still licked at him, not allowing him to fully enjoy this moment. He clenched his teeth against the burn, pasting on the outer expression of Yeah, we're just here to have fun! that everyone expected from Slade Walker.
Only he knew the truth. The burning, ugly truth that never let him go. Never let him really enjoy anything anymore.
Once, he'd fucked up so epically it still made him have nightmares a few times a month. Once, he'd utterly failed a buddy, a team member, someone he'd called brother even though they weren't blood relatives.
Once, Slade Walker had allowed another's life to be ruined. Several lives, in fact. He'd never forgiven himself.
Since then, he'd done virtually everything in his life with an honesty that practically bordered on saintly. Not that he'd ever been a liar or a cheat; hell no. He'd just never been so damned authentic in his life. Not until he'd allowed Jacob to be thrown under the bus, ruining Jacob's life and destroying his family's lives.
Worst of all, it also meant he'd ruined any possibility of anything resembling something real and good and true with Everly Vos. That hurt more than some tiger shifter breaking his nose. Way more.
A sudden voice busted into his thoughts as he left the ring. “New truck, you lucky bastard! Good job, Slade. That's how it's done.”
Slade let a grin flash over his face as his brother Cortez threw an arm over his shoulder, squeezing him as they shoved their way through the still-hollering crowd. “Where's Haley?” His brother's mate sometimes came to the fights with Cortez. Originally from the human world with little exposure to the secretive world of shifters, she'd been equally appalled and fascinated by the brutality and blood of the underground fights. A writer, she sometimes took notes at the fights to later use the details in her books. Or so she'd told Slade once. He suspected her animal side might be just as bloodthirsty as any shifter's, but she wasn't completely ready to admit it.
Cortez knuckled aside a few overzealous fans as he and Slade headed to the quiet of the back rooms where Slade could shower and change into street clothes. “She's doing some girls' night thing. Let's see.” Crinkling his face for a moment, thinking, he went though the names of the women attending. “It's Haley, Pix, Abby, Jessie, and Marisa.”
Slade grunted at that. The mates of three of his brothers, one cousin, and Cortez's best friend. All mated, except him. He frowned that thought away.
Then Cortez added, “Oh, and some of the girls in town.”
Slade was still too high from winning the fight to watch his words. “Everly with 'em?” The second he said it, he wanted to bite his own tongue. But hell. Cortez wouldn't blame him for asking. His brother knew why Slade wanted to know. Everyone in the Walker clan did.
As they pushed past the last of the screeching crowd and into the back rooms, Cortez firmly shoved the door closed behind them. Guarded outside by a huge, stone-faced shifter with an odd scent that had always made Slade wonder whether the guy was a rhinoceros, or maybe a freaking hippo, the door stayed shut against curious fans. Giving his brother a sharp but not unkind look, Cortez shrugged. “I don't know. She might be. You seen her lately?”
Slade flinched. Not looking at Cortez, he went to the locker where he'd stashed his stuff. “Actually, yeah. I stopped by The Tank yesterday. Had to give her something.”
Even though he wasn't looking at his brother, Slade could swear he felt raised eyebrows and a faint smile behind him. “Something…?”
Slade let the silence pull between them for several breaths as he rooted around in his duffel bag and pulled out clean clothes. Finally, he turned around and just said it flat out. “I found a letter to her from Jacob. Just the other day. I still had his jacket and had no fucking idea it was even there. Found it behind the seat of my truck while I was cleaning it out to get it ready to trade in for that new one, if I won tonight.” He felt his jaw twitch as he remembered his shock when he pulled out the familiar jacket shoved deep behind the bench seat of his old beater truck, forgotten and unnoticed by him. He didn't clean things much. “He had a letter to her crammed into one of the pockets. So I gave it to her. Of course.”
Cortez's face went still as he stared at Slade. “Holy shit,” he said after a long moment. “What did she say?”
Slade pushed out a breath. “Nothing. I handed it to her and left. Figured it was a private thing she needed to read without me around.” Especially without me around, he thought. His bear made a low, unsettled noise that whispered through his entire being like an echo of sadness.
Now Cortez frowned. “Why not? You should have stayed there when she read it. Especially you.”
The bloodlust of the fight still clung to the edges of Slade's mood. He snarled, “No, not especially me. Never especially me. What the fuck's wrong with you, saying some dumb shit like that?”
His brother stayed calm, but his bear shimmered just beneath the light golden-brown of his eyes. Totally unlike Slade's. Slade was the oddball in the Walker family as far as looks went. All his brothers were more fair-haired, with light-colored eyes. But Slade's hair was dark brown, matching his eyes, which sometimes verged on black. A throwback to some relative or other way back, or so his parents always said. Right now, he figured his eyes were probably real close to black. Black, to match the rage and shame he kept tucked so deep inside.
“Nothing's wrong with me, Slade.” Cortez kept his voice even. Then he cocked an eyebrow and let out a zinger. “I just meant, a woman's mate should be there when she gets hit with something as unexpected and huge as a letter from her missing brother. That's all.”
Slade rocked back on his feet. He glared at Cortez, who matched it with an unwavering gaze. Still calm, the happily-mated jerk. Slade didn't even know what to respond to first. After another tense moment, he gave his head a savage shake. “Everly isn't my mate. She can't ever be my mate. And me being there while she reads a letter from Jacob would be the shittiest thing in the world to do to her, considering I'm the reason he didn't come home.”
Another long beat. Slade almost broke, almost turned to stalk off to the showers. There was one thing that flared in Cortez's eyes that made him want to bolt from the truth of everything.
Pity.
He opened his mouth to say something, anything, who the hell knew what, but Cortez beat him to it. “You have to see her again. It'll kill you if you don't.”
Startled, Slade snapped, “What in the fuck does that mean? You're full of shit.”
Cortez blew out a breath. The pity leaked away, but his firm stare didn't. “It means, she's your mate, Slade. You've both known it pretty much ever since she and her family moved to town. That's a hell of a long time to deny it. The longer you fight it, the more miserable you'll both be. Eventually, that misery will take over to the point you can't come out of it. And that will kill you.” Cortez's voice softened a notch, but his words didn't. �
��Kill you, and probably kill her too one day. You know it.”
The words sent a deep chill ripping down Slade's body. But he shoved it away. “Shifter superstition.” His voice was so flat it didn't sound like him. Shifter lore held that once shifters knew they'd found their mate, if they didn't claim that mate, they would eventually whither away, their animals broken from being unable to be with the one who was basically the other half of their soul.
Had to be a damned superstition, or else he'd end up doing something else to Everly he'd never forgive himself for: let her die of a heartbreak he'd never be able to heal.
“Bullshit,” Cortez said, though his tone was still mild. Mostly. “Why won't you just admit she's your mate? I promise you, being mated is one hell of an amazing thing.”
His sudden, sappy smile made Slade want to punch his happy face. Damned happy mated brothers.
Slade's voice rasped with his bear's agitation as the next words just popped out. “Because it won't work. Ever thinks she’s not good enough for me, because she’s a fox shifter and I’m a grizzly bear shifter. Because she bought into the crap she was fed by assholes when she was just a kid, that she's some sort of lesser shifter type.” His bear growled savagely at that, the sound ripping out of Slade's throat and echoing around the room. “But that’s not the only issue. The problem is, I’m the one who’s not good enough for her.” His voice had gone soft. It hurt like hell to say the words, but they were true. “I should have saved Jacob that night, but I didn’t. I’m the one who doesn’t deserve a woman like Everly. I'll never deserve her after I couldn't save her brother,” he finished in a flat voice. Half shocked he'd said so much, half relieved, he looked at Cortez. Just daring him to disagree.
Cortez shook his head, smile gone, glowing eyes fixed on Slade's. His bear, almost challenging. “That's not true, and you know it.”
“Fine!” He almost shouted the word, the bloodlust from the fight flaring up again. He slammed his fist into his other palm. “Truth is, she'll never accept me as her mate. She thinks she doesn't deserve any of the stronger shifter types. She'll also never be able to forget that I was there the night he didn't come home. And her family—” Slade broke off and swore again, forcing himself to plow on. “They'll never forgive me.” I can't ever forgive me. The whisper rattled around only inside his head. He didn't need to say it out loud. His brother knew him well enough to read it on his face.
Cortez still shook his head, the light of his bear dying down in his eyes. Compassion showed up now instead. “You have to. Time's running out, Slade. Don't let it go so far you'll never have another chance. Her brother may have vanished that night, but you don't have to.”
This time, Slade did turn away, striding down a short hallway to the showers.
“They're at Draft 'N Brew,” Cortez called after him. “The girls. And Everly.”
Damn it. Slade set his jaw as he walked faster. He hadn't needed to know that.
“She deserves to have you, bro. And you deserve her. Just tell her you're sorry and start over again.” Cortez's voice cut out as Slade practically ran down the hallway to the shower.
He growled at himself. Yeah, starting over again—or rather, starting something at all—with Everly sounded like a fine idea. Except for the one thing Slade had never told anybody, because he'd made a promise, damn him.
Jacob hadn't completely vanished off the face of the earth. No. Slade knew exactly where he was. But that didn't matter, because Slade couldn't rescue him. Jacob was never coming back home to Deep Hollow or his fox shifter family. Everly's brother might as well be dead, and Slade was definitely responsible. For that, he'd never have Ever's heart.
Not even if he really was her mate, and that sweet, sexy little fox shifter was his. Not even if he'd been in love with her from the day they met, and every day it got harder and harder for him to imagine spending the rest of his life without her in it.
3
Everly giggled into her beer. The surface of her drink rippled from the air she snorted over it, which made her giggle again. Whee, how funny that looked! She did it again, snorting out another giggle.
Whoops. Shouldn't do that. She frowned, quickly looking around to make sure no one else had paid attention to her silliness. The room was spinning just a little. Wow, she was kind of tipsy. She usually didn't drink much. Being a fox shifter, she was on the small side and had a lower tolerance for alcohol than most shifters did. Apparently one and a half beers were enough to make her be a goof.
Then again, after the letter from Jacob and seeing Slade, she could drink a little, darn it. She deserved it.
On the other side of the room, a burst of laughter caught her ear. Alarmed, the ugly old fears making her wonder if they were laughing at her, she shot her gaze at the other female shifters relaxing at Draft 'N Brew, Deep Hollow's popular beer and coffee bar.
Of course not. None of them were looking at her, pointing at the fox shifter who was a loser, who grew up shunned, never part of the “in crowd” of stronger, faster, better predator shifters. These women were nice, kind, and welcoming. She'd known some of them since high school. Not a one of them hated her.
Silly Everly. Chill out, she commanded herself.
Her fox hiccuped inside her.
Dang, maybe she really shouldn't drink beer. It made her paranoid as well as silly. She could trust the others in here. She knew they totally accepted her for what she was. They didn't care one whit about her being a lesser shifter. None of the locals in Deep Hollow had ever cared, either.
Eyeing the playfully giggling women, she idly wondered if she should share the news with them about Jacob's letter. She could use feedback on it. But almost as soon as she thought that, she decided against it. Yes, she could call these women friends—but not one of them was a best friend. And the letter demanded the input from a best friend. She didn't really have one of those, not anymore.
Abby was kind but they hadn't known one another that long. Haley and Pix were already best friends. Jessie was best friends with Livy, whose sister Maddy was also great but already best friends with someone else as well. And Marisa was still shy and nervous, slowly feeling her way into this group. That and she'd become a mother figure to her mate Riley's twins, so her time was more limited.
Everly glanced at Nita, laughing her head off at something funny Pix apparently had just said. Ever sighed, feeling a stab of loneliness. Nita was someone she'd been really close with in high school. But everything had changed after Jacob, and they weren't quite as close anymore. Not close enough to call her a best friend.
No, Everly didn't really have a best friend, and hadn't for years.
Except for…Slade.
Dang it. She gulped her beer while her fox purred at the thought of him.
She and Slade had been ridiculously close ever since she moved here. They'd been friends. Real friends. She'd never shared her attraction to him for fear it would destroy their friendship, how he looked after her in high school, protected her, confided in her. And then Jacob vanished, and Slade was there when it happened, and he'd come back home a changed man. A dark, sad, tortured man who sealed his mouth about any details of what had happened. Dark, broken, and in pain on the inside, while still joke-cracking and light-hearted and funny on the outside, like he always used to be. But Everly knew it was a mask, covering up whatever had really happened the night Jacob left them.
She'd never blamed him. She'd never thought it was his fault, whatever happened. But he pushed her away so fast, she'd never even had a chance to tell him.
Maybe, she thought as she took another long, morose sip of her beer, he just didn't want to be around her anymore. Her fox whined, the sound tearing at Everly's heart.
Or maybe she just needed to quit drinking beer if it made her this maudlin. Maudlin, and more dramatic than an Oscar-winning actress. She snort-giggled again, watching how it made her beer ripple.
“Everly!” The cheerful call turned her head. Abby, the sweetest wolf shifter she'd ever
known. “Stop hiding in the corner and giggling into your beer and come over here. You need to share what's so funny with us.”
“Yeah!” chimed in Haley, a recent move-in to Deep Hollow and now firmly established part of the reigning Silvertip Shifter bear clan. She was also awfully sweet, and had been just as friendly to Everly when they met. “We're all sharing jokes over here. It's your turn!”
Pix, Haley's best friend and a freaking dragon shifter—which always made Everly slightly nervous, because there'd been a few dragons who'd made her life absolute hell back in grade school—cackled. “As long as it's a dirty joke! Those are the best ones.”
They all snorted with laughter again, the women sitting together in a cozy little group. Well, Marisa wasn't laughing as uproariously as the rest, but Everly supposed that was to be expected. Marisa was the most recent addition to this tight group of friends, and she'd come from really bad circumstances. Worse, honestly, than anything Everly had experienced in her life. But she was surviving, and actually thriving, and getting happier and less haunted every single day.
Everly sighed. She really needed to buck up. These women were genuinely good, they did like her and she liked them, she didn't have it so bad, and life could be worse. A lot worse. Of course, being thoroughly shunned and bullied as a child by the nasty Tarben grizzly bear clan hadn't been a joy. But she'd survived.
Just maybe not survived into a totally secure, healthy adulthood.
Well. Time now to buck up and go hang out with the others. Everly set her unfinished beer down on the little table next to the couch she'd been curled up on, and carefully stood up and made her way toward them, being extra sure to watch her steps and not trip over her own sort-of-drunk feet.
The words of Jacob's letter to her flashed through her thoughts, grinding them to a halt. On second thought, she turned around, marched back for her beer, and grabbed it with an only slightly unsteady hand. Then she turned back toward the little group of shifters she dared call friends. Because they were, dang it. Buck up, buttercup, she whispered inside her head. Her fox made that soft, small noise she did when trying to comfort and reassure, deep inside where only Everly could sense it.
