Wolfsong (45 page)

They stopped.

We breathed.

Joe.

Carter.

Kelly.

Gordo.

Hey! Hey there! You! Hey, guy!

None of my pack moved from behind me, though I could feel how much Elizabeth and Mark wanted to. They were waiting.

For me.

Who are you?

Because we weren’t one pack.

We were two.

Ox? Ox! Do you smell that?

Robbie’s hand tightened on my shoulder.

Joe, whose eyes had never left me from the moment he’d broken the tree line, glanced at Robbie’s hand. His hands twitched slightly and the skin around his eyes tightened briefly, but nothing more.

No, no, no. It’s something
bigger
.

The others were there. I understood that. My brothers Carter and Kelly. My friend and brother and father Gordo. They were there. I hadn’t seen them in thirty-eight months. They’d disappeared into the wild and left us behind.

But at that moment, I only saw Joe.

It’s you! Why do you smell like that?

He was larger than he’d ever been in the life I’d known him. Before. He was roughly my size, and carried the weight of the Alpha well. He’d once been tall and lean, still growing into the man he’d become. Now, he was thick, the muscles in his arms and legs straining against the coat and sleeves. His chest was broad and wide. We were probably the same height now.

Where did you come from? Do you live in the woods? What are you? We just got here.
Finally
. Where is your house?

This wasn’t the boy I’d known. The one I’d first found on the dirt road. This was an Alpha, pure and true. He was road worn, the dark circles under his eyes stark against his pale skin, but his strength showed even as he stood there. The clumsy boy I’d known was gone, at least physically. I didn’t know how much else of him remained.

We have to go see my mom and dad. They’ll know what this is. They know
everything
.

I didn’t know what to do.

I didn’t want to speak first.

Because I was sure I’d say something I’d regret.

Because I was so goddamned angry.

Seeing him here. Safe. Sound. Alive. It should have made me happier than I’d ever been. And it did.

But the anger was stronger.

My pack sighed behind me as my fury washed over them.

And then, like he could hear the memory in my head of the day we’d first met, Joe Bennett said, “I’m sorry.” His voice was deep. Rough. Strong.

I played my part. “For?”

He said, “For whatever just made you sad.”

“I dream. Sometimes it feels like I’m awake. And then I’m not.” And I had to remind myself we were not who we were then, the little boy on the dirt road and the big dumb Ox who was gonna get shit all his life.

His voice cracked when he said, “You’re awake now. Ox. Ox. Ox. Don’t you see?”

“See what?”

He whispered, as if saying it any louder would make it untrue. “
We’re so close to each other
.”

And it wasn’t the same as before. As what he’d said when he was the little tornado on my back, but it was enough. Because we
were
. We were so goddamn close to each other, closer than we’d been in over three years, and all I had to do was take that first step. All I had to do was open my arms and he could be there. If he wanted to be. If
I
wanted him to be.

I didn’t move.

But he wasn’t done. “Mom,” he said, though his eyes never left mine. “Mom. You have to smell him. It’s like… I don’t even know what it’s like. I was walking in the woods to scope out our territory so I could be like Dad and then it was like….” He closed his eyes for a moment. We all held our breaths. He continued. “And then he was all standing there and he didn’t see me at first because I’m getting so good at hunting. I was all like
rawr
and
grr
but then I smelled it again and it was
him
and it was all
kaboom
.” He opened his eyes again. They were filling with the red of the Alpha. “I don’t even know. You gotta
smell
him and then tell me why it’s all candy canes and pinecones. All epic and awesome.”

His voice died out.

A lark sang from the trees.

The grass swayed with the breeze.

He said, “Ox.”

I said, “Alpha,” and my voice barely contained my anger.

He winced the slightest bit before nodding in return. “Alpha,” he said.

It wasn’t repetition. It was acknowledgment.

Because this wasn’t his territory anymore.

Somehow, it’d become mine.

Robbie flexed his hand gently on my shoulder.

Joe’s eyes darted to Robbie again. To his face. Where he was touching me. Back to me.

He growled. A warning. This was a strange wolf he did not know touching me.

Everyone tensed.

Robbie snarled in response and, before I could stop him, vaulted over me, landing in front of the pack, crouched down and teeth bared at the others.

Carter and Kelly popped claws and fangs in response, crowding around Joe, waiting to see what Robbie would do. The others began to move behind, assuming tactical poses, ready to fight if need be, to protect their Alpha should the others come after me.

This wasn’t how it was supposed to be.

None of this was.

I wasn’t dreaming.

I wasn’t dreaming
.

I said, “
Enough
.”

Robbie sagged.

As did Carter and Kelly.

They stepped back, away from Joe.

Gordo still hadn’t moved, either to attack or to defend.

Robbie looked sheepish, rubbing the back of his head as he stood. “I would do it again,” he muttered.

“I know,” I said. “But you don’t have to.”

He brushed against my shoulder as he resumed his place behind me.

I looked back at Joe. “You’re here.” Short. To the point.

“I am. We are.”

“Did you do what you set out to do?”

A brief hesitation. Then, “No.”

That… I didn’t know what to do with that. “Why not?”

“Things change.”

“So all of this was for nothing.”

“I wouldn’t say that. Look at you.”

“Look at me,” I echoed.

“Are we welcome?” he asked, and that was the most important question. Because an Alpha of the territory had to give his consent to another pack. It was how things worked.

But it shouldn’t have to be with him. With them.

“This is your home,” I said through gritted teeth. “You don’t have to ask that.”

“We do,” Joe said, the red in his eyes fading to their normal blue, bright and wide. “You know that as well as I do, Ox. Especially now that you’re… you.”

For the briefest of moments, I thought about saying no.
No, you aren’t welcome here. No, we don’t need you. No, we don’t want to see you. Because you’ve been gone so long. You left us alone. You put others in front of us. You were selfish. And cruel. We needed you. I needed you. I fucking needed you and you
left
—

I said, “You’re welcome here. All of you.”

Everyone relaxed the smallest amounts.

Except for Joe and me.

“For how long?” Joe asked.

A crack in the wall. “As long as it takes for you to decide to run again.”

It was out before I could stop it.

The four of them looked as if I’d slapped them.

I should have felt better about that.

I didn’t.

“You can go to them,” I said.

And Elizabeth and Mark surged forward, brushing past me to get to their family. Gordo took a step back as Elizabeth grabbed her sons, holding them as close as she could, her arms barely able to reach across all three of them at the same time. She rubbed her face against each of their cheeks, wanting her scent on them and theirs on her. The Alpha in me bristled at the thought of my pack smelling like another, but I pushed it away. It wasn’t about that. Not for her.

Mark ran his hands over their shorn heads, mingling his scent on top of Elizabeth’s.

Carter and Kelly were crying as they clung to their mother.

Mark moved toward Gordo. Gordo didn’t move. They stood staring at each other, speaking a silent language I wasn’t a part of.

Joe still hadn’t looked away from me, even as his mother held him close.

I said, “Your rooms are still yours. I expect you’ll want to get some rest.”

And because I couldn’t take it anymore, couldn’t take his proximity anymore, I walked away.

I CLOSED
the door to the old house behind me and sagged against it, trying to breathe.

I hadn’t been in here in the longest time. The house was in my name. Robbie had moved into the main house a while ago, so this one usually sat empty. We kept it, though, in case it was needed. In case we’d needed more room. If the pack expanded. If people came seeking sanctuary.

If others came home.

Elizabeth and the rest of the pack took turns cleaning the house. Made sure it was aired out. While we usually shared responsibilities, this was one thing they wouldn’t let me do. They knew how I felt here. About this place.

Because even though it’d long since been scrubbed away, I knew my mother’s blood had soaked into the bones of the house.

She was everywhere here.

Most of her clothes had been donated after I’d given the okay.

But there was more to her than what she wore.

She was in every corner of this house.

There were soap bubbles on my ear.

She was nervous, because the Bennetts were coming over and they were so fancy.

She signed her name and dissolved her marriage.

She stood with me in the kitchen, asking why I was crying. I told her I couldn’t be crying, because I had to be a man now.

She pointed on a map, showing where my friend had moved, saying no one ever really stayed in Green Creek.

She was my pack. My first pack.

“Ah,” I said, trying to take in another breath. “Ah. Ah.”

I slid down to the floor, my back against the door.

I put my head on my knees.

From where I sat, I knew I could look up and see the spot where she’d died. Where she’d looked up at me with such steel in her eyes. She’d known she was going to go, and she went out on her own terms, giving me the smallest of chances to escape and howl for our pack.

The shadows lengthened as the day wore on.

I could feel the others. My pack. Their joy. Their confusion. Their sadness. Their anger.

I couldn’t feel Carter and Kelly like I used to. I didn’t feel tied to Gordo like I had once been. Even if he hadn’t been pack for most of the time I’d known about wolves, there’d always been
something
there between us, especially after he’d gifted me the work shirts when I’d turned fifteen.

Joe, though.

I could feel him.

Because he was an Alpha. More than I ever was.

This place, this territory, was rightfully his.

And since (
if if if
) he was back, it should be his again.

I should have felt relieved at that.

That the responsibility wasn’t mine alone to bear anymore.

And I did. Mostly.

But there was a part of me that said
mine, mine, mine
.

That this place, these houses, these people were
mine
.

I banged my head against the door, trying to clear my thoughts.

The shadows stretched farther.

And that’s when he approached.

Even before I heard him, I felt him.

I didn’t focus on the bond, the thread. I didn’t want to see how tattered it was between us, if it was even there at all. Something once growing stronger every day now in shreds.

I tried to keep my breaths even. My heart calm.

I tried to make him go away without even saying a word.

My breaths were short. My heart was stumbling.

He didn’t go away.

He didn’t speak, but he didn’t go away.

The porch creaked as he slowly climbed the steps.

His hands were on the porch rail, fingers dragging along the chipped paint.

He reached the top step and stood there for a beat.

He took in a great breath and let it out slowly.

Taking in the scent of the territory.

Of this house.

Of me.

I wondered if he could tell that I hadn’t spent more than a few hours here since he’d left.

I wondered if he could still smell the blood of my mother.

He didn’t speak.

He took another step forward. And another. And another, until he was standing in front of the door.

He didn’t knock.

He didn’t touch the doorknob.

Instead, the door jerked slightly as he turned and leaned against it, sliding down like I’d done.

He sat on the other side, our backs separated by three inches of oak.

It wasn’t very long before our breaths and hearts were in sync with each other.

I tried to fight it. To stop it.

It didn’t work.

I hated the peace I felt. The relief, the goddamned green relief that
bowled
over me, as if I ever really stood a chance against it. I held on to my anger as hard as I could.

He stayed until I fell asleep.

I WOKE
as morning sunlight filtered in through the windows.

I was warm and had a crick in my neck.

I opened my eyes.

I was still sitting against the door. My back hurt.

Two wolves rested their heads on my thighs. They both opened their eyes as I did, as if they’d been waiting for me to wake.

A third wolf lay curled against my side, feet twitching as he dreamed.

Elizabeth. Mark.

Robbie.

The others were there.

Jessie was snoring softly, her arms wrapped around one of my legs.

Tanner, Rico, and Chris were sprawled out around me, each with a hand touching me somehow. My foot. My hand. My stomach.

No one else.

Joe wasn’t against the door.

I hadn’t heard him leave.