2. April
APRIL
I first started running after Ellie left home at eighteen, moving from our quiet beachside town to the hustle and bustle of Auckland City to pursue her studies. It had been good for her at the time, but it had been terrible for me. My buddy was gone — the one person I’d poured my heart and soul into since the day I found out I was carrying her, becoming a single mum in an instant — and the house was far too quiet.
So I started running. Before work, after work, on weekends. Money was tight — as usual back then — but all I needed was a pair of shoes to run in and I was off. Five kilometres turned into ten, and ten into fifteen, and soon I was entering into my first half marathon up in Paihia and loving it.
I still love it. I haven’t stopped running since I started, and though my times have slowed a little over the years, I still feel great at the end of each session. One of the things I love the most is that I can do it anywhere — not that I travel much. I visit Motuwai Island where Ellie lives often enough to have learned the best spots for running. Five kilometres of native bush trail leads down onto a long sandy beach that meets the end of the track and I jog that regularly when I’m on the island, turning around at the end of the beach and heading back the same way.
I’m halfway through that track on a dreary autumn morning when I get the prickling sense that something is watching me.
It’s probably nothing, I tell myself, but I pick up the pace anyway. There’s no one else out this morning, and I can’t blame them — it’s been spitting for the last half-hour, and I’m drenched through, my quick-dry t-shirt clinging to me.
Most of the track is gravel over dirt, but there’s a steep set of stairs that takes the path down past a small waterfall and a viewing platform, and I’m forced to slow down lest I slip on the wet wood as I descend. I’m so focused on my feet that it’s only when I reach the last step that I look up, coming face to face with a pair of yellow eyes set in a huge mass of brown fur.
I scream as my brain tries to catch up with what I’m seeing, falling backwards against the railing, bruising my hip in the process. My hand is pressed flat against my racing heart as the giant wolf in front of me shudders violently, and in an instant the shape has morphed entirely, changing into a man.
A very naked man.
“ Farkin’ hell ,” Brett swears, his Aussie accent more pronounced than I remember. “ Jesus fuck, sorry! I didn’t mean to scare ya. Are you alright? Here, let me help you up. I’m so sorry Amaia, he wasn’t thinking straight.”
“Pants,” I say, my heart still racing even as I take his hand. From my fallen position on the stairs, his thick, flaccid cock and heavy balls are directly at my eye level, and I should stop staring but I can’t quite pull my eyes away from the magnificent sight. “You got some?”
When I look up at him there’s a grin just beginning to cut through his remorseful expression, his sharp canines seeming overly bright in the dark of the forest. “Nah,” he says softly. “Left my pants at home. Don’t need ‘em when I’m a wolf.”
I let him pull me to my feet, and I brush the leafy debris off my butt. A tui starts to sing nearby, cutting through the stillness, the sounds of nature suddenly loud in the silence between us as we stare into each other’s eyes. It’s not awkward at all — it’s quite the opposite, actually — but he is naked, and it’s late April.
“You’re not cold?”
He shakes his head slowly, one big hand drifting down to cover his junk. It’s very much too little, too late, and it makes me laugh. “I already saw everything.”
“I know… I just… I know you humans are a bit more sensitive about this kinda thing. Hey, I’m really sorry I scared you.”
“You gave me a fright,” I nod. “But I’m not… I’m not scared of your wolf, if that’s what you’re thinking. I just wasn’t paying attention and didn’t expect to see that when I looked up.” He opens his mouth, but I’m already asking “What did you mean by he wasn’t thinking straight? Your wolf?”
I’ve been around Ellie and Van enough now to know that’s the right way to talk about them — the wolves — as if they’re a different entity existing in the same body. To be honest, I don’t quite understand how it all works. I think Van is still Van when he’s a wolf, and Brett here must still be Brett , but…
“I was already shifted and I caught your scent on the wind, and he took off. He’s all instincts, my wolf, and I could have stopped obviously but,” Brett shrugs one huge shoulder, his well-defined pecs moving with the gesture in a way that is way too mesmerising, “I was excited to see you again.”
Butterflies. That’s what I’m feeling. Butterflies like a teenager with a crush, joy at finding him here in the forest of all places. He remembered my scent. He wanted to see me.
I’ve thought about him for the past seven weeks since Ellie’s wedding, lamenting over what could have been a great night. I’ve wondered often if he ever thought about me and that missed opportunity.
“How is your nephew?” I ask.
“Grounded.”
“ Still?! ”
Brett shakes his head, chuckling. “For something different, yeah. He’s an adult now, but he doesn’t act like one. I told him if he was going to keep making decisions like a kid, I’d treat him like one. Curfew is currently 8PM. To be honest, I don’t know what I’m doing with him. I’ve got no fucking clue. I…” he hesitates, licking his lower lip, one canine snagging on it for a moment. His lips had been soft, and his kiss had tasted like beer, and I’d loved every second of that brief make out session last month. “I have a kid — a daughter, she’s ten — but it’s not the same. She’s a goody two-shoes, you never hear a peep from her. Pup, on the other hand — sorry, that’s what we call him, Pup — he’s always been a handful. That’s how he ended up here with me. It’s because he’s an alpha, I reckon. He’s already chomping at the bit, but he’s way too young to challenge the current one yet.”
I nod, trying to process all the information he’s just dumped. “You’ve got a daughter?”
“Yeah. Yeah. She’s great. She lives with her mum. On the mainland. I see her every weekend.”
My heart twists with a strange mix of relief and jealousy on behalf of Ellie, who has never had a father. “I bet she loves spending time with you.”
There’s that smile again, though it’s more shy this time. “I like to think so.”
Another stretch of silence drags on, and I try but fail to not look at his body. He’s heavily muscled like most wolves, with tree trunk thighs and a slightly softer belly.
He’s fucking gorgeous.
“So you were already shifted?” I prompt.
“Yeah, I was going for a run down on the beach,” he replies, jabbing his thumb over his shoulder at the path winding back up the hill behind him. “The locals are used to me now.”
“That’s good. That’s where I was heading.”
“That’s where I live. I’m renting a bach on the beach. Do you wanna come back with me and grab something to eat? My shout. There’s a good cafe down there, I’ll just have to stop home for a bit first and put on some clothes.”
“That would be lovely.” I nod at his hand and his failed attempt to cover his bits — I can still see half his balls hanging down behind his fingers. “Are you going to walk back naked?”
Brett’s laugh startles a nearby saddleback, the small bird hopping quickly away through the underbrush. He shakes his head, a lock of brown hair falling over his forehead. “I’ll put my fur back on, and run with ya.”
Seeing him change again — now that I’m not stunned out of my mind — is something so odd and impossible that I still can’t make sense of it, even as he stands before me on four legs, his coat a beautiful ruddy brown, his muzzle going ever so slightly grey around the mouth. His tail wags as I reach out a hand towards him, and he steps forward until his wet nose bumps my palm. He’s huge, taller than me at the shoulder, as big as a horse, each paw the size of dinner plates.
I’m not scared at all — not like the first time I saw a wolf in person, when Van shifted in front of me — but I’ve got no doubt that he could be bloody dangerous if he needed to be.
“Ready to go?” I ask. Now that we’ve been standing around for a bit, I’m beginning to shiver, and I’m keen to get running again.
Brett barks. Barks! His tail wags, and I take that all as a yes. He darts off in front of me, scrabbling up the hill at a ridiculously fast pace, stopping to wait for me with a canine grin and big, intelligent yellow eyes. It’s definitely still Brett, and as we continue on this way I’m surprised by how my mind gets used to the idea, his friendly personality shining through even in this form.
He really is the same guy.
Brett moved to New Zealand ten years ago, when he found out the Kiwi woman he’d had a quick fling with while she was holidaying in Aus was heavily pregnant with his daughter, Alice.
“I packed my bags and hopped on a flight the next day, and that was that, starting my life over in a new country at thirty-seven,” he explains as I sip my coffee. The cafe he mentioned is lovely — a little beachside setup in an old converted house. I’ve noticed it before on my runs. With the misty weather it’s quieter today, and we sit inside in a cosy corner, the darker interior making Brett’s eyes flash reflectively every time he looks my way.
“Did you have a relationship with her?” I ask. Maybe the question is too personal, but chatting with Brett feels so natural, and it’s not so often that I talk to someone who has had a similar parenting journey to my own.
He shakes his head. “I moved into the house to help Tracey, but it was never like that, and I didn’t intend it to be that way. I just wanted to be with my kid. I needed to be — she’s a human, Alice’s mum, and she didn’t know I was a wolf. I had to get a witch involved, take off the glamour, show her how I shifted. I had to teach her about wolves. That was all before she went into labour, and then afterwards… well you know what it’s like. You’re sleep deprived, the pup’s been attached to your tits all day… sex is the last thing on your mind. So nah, we’re better as friends, and we figured that out pretty fast. I stayed in the house for the first year and then a job opportunity came up across the other end of the city, and we agreed to me having Alice on weekends, and that’s what we’ve done since then. It’s worked well. It’s been a bit trickier now that I’m living on the island here — and the job has been extended from the original 3 months it was supposed to be — but we’ve made it work. The ferry staff know Alice now and we’ve got an arrangement so her mum puts her on the boat and the staff keep an eye on her for the ferry crossing, and I meet her at the dock here.”
“I’m glad you two were able to work that out.”
Brett nods. “Same.” I see him hesitate, and on impulse I reach across the table to squeeze one of his big hands.
“You can ask me anything.”
“Was Ellie’s father ever in the picture? I know she’s mentioned that she never knew she wasn’t fully human, but I don’t know the whole story. I noticed there wasn’t anyone at the wedding.”
I shake my head. “No. I was working as a flight attendant, we ended up having to do an overnight stay in Wellington — high winds grounded the evening flights — and I met him at the hotel bar. His name was TJ, he was handsome, very blond, bright blue eyes. I invited him back to my room.” I shrug. “You can fill in the blanks. He wasn’t there in the morning. I was actually using up some work perks and having a holiday in Aussie when I started to feel sick, realised I was late and took a pregnancy test. And that was Ellie, there with me.”
I feel trapped in Brett’s gaze, but in a good way. “So you never knew him at all?”
“Never.”
He squeezes my hand. “That had to be tough, doing it alone.”
“I had my dad — Ellie’s koro .” I take a deep breath, running the pad of my thumb over one of his knuckles. “But you moved here by yourself, right? That must have been tough too. You have a pack, right? Did that change things for you?”
“Yeah, it did change things. Our whole pack is back in Queensland. You know where Australia Zoo is?” At my nod, he continues. “We’re from around there. So I try to fly back there every year. Alice comes too. Her mum used to come along with us but she trusts me enough now,” he adds with a playful grin that doesn’t quite meet his eyes. “I usually stay a couple of weeks. It’s not ideal — we shifter wolves are bonded through a pack, it doesn’t feel quite right when you’re away for really long periods of time — but,” he shrugs, “what can you do? Their life is here, so I’ve gotta be here too.”
“You’re a good dad.” A good man. My chest burns with an intense jealousy that surprises me, but what I wouldn’t have given to have Ellie’s father on hand when she was a baby, to share the load, the ups and downs, hell , the knowledge that my daughter, too, wasn’t fully human. And if I’d had Brett… “I think she’s crazy,” I say, the thought slipping out unbidden. Fuck. “Your daughter’s mum, I mean, for letting you go. You’re a catch.”
It feels as if all the air has been sucked out of the room. There’s nothing here but Brett and I. “She wasn’t the one,” he says quietly, his fingers dancing over the back of my hand. “Everything happens for a reason.”
Brett’s ute pulls to a stop in the vineyard’s carpark. It’s still an absolute shock every time I realise my daughter now owns this place alongside her husband. Field upon field of perfect grapevines swoop down to the most stunning sea views, the skyline of Auckland City visible in the distance. Even on an overcast day like today it’s beautiful.
“Thank you for the lift back,” I tell him. I could have run back here, but after a long brunch at the cafe — somehow three hours passed without me realising — I was happy when Brett offered to drop me back at Ellie’s house where I’ve been staying the last few nights.
“You’re welcome.” There’s a pause where I think maybe he might lean in and kiss me, but I feel kind of panicked at the thought — I don’t have the bravery the wine afforded me last month — and I open the door with a smile despite the ache in my chest, sliding down out of the tall vehicle.
I hear his door opening as I close mine, and by the time I reach the back of his ute, he’s already there.
“Amaia.”
This is the most serious I’ve ever seen him, and I know that he’s not technically an alpha wolf, but in this instant he very well could be with the way he commands my gaze.
“I want to see you again.”
I nod. It feels so unfair that I live so far away. We already exchanged numbers while at the cafe, but this declaration means something, and sets the butterflies in my gut flying. “I’ll come down next month.”
“Good.” This time he does lean in to kiss me. I rise on my toes, doing my best to meet him halfway, a breathy laugh escaping my lips as he grips me by the waist, lifting me, pressing me against the back of his ute as his mouth slants over mine. He feels just as good as I remembered, his tongue against mine and the graze of sharp canines across my lower lip making me moan.
I could spend forever kissing him, soaking up every touch and the grind of his hard cock between my legs, but the sound of tyres against the gravel carpark has us breaking apart. To my horror I recognise the car that pulls in. The windows of the very expensive Porsche are too tinted to see the driver inside, but I swear under my breath as it pulls down the additional driveway marked Private Residence. Do Not Enter.
“That was Van, wasn’t it?”
“Yep.” I lean my forehead against his shoulder, the sweet, masculine scent of him a calming balm against the absolute mortification I feel at being caught pressed up against a car, my legs wrapped around a guy. Brett works here at the moment, for fuck’s sake. “That’ll be a fun conversation,” I mutter.
Brett huffs with amusement, and his warm lips press against my forehead. “I really wish you weren’t heading home today.”
“I know.” My boat back to the mainland is leaving in five hours. Ellie will have just finished off her morning of garden design work, and I’m going to spend the afternoon with her before I head north. Tomorrow I have to take my elderly father to the hospital for some routine tests, and then it’s back to work on Tuesday. “I’ll see you next month.”
“I’ll text you,” he promises.
I nod, unsure of what to say. He kisses me again — a bruising, desperate tangle of lips and tongue — and then he’s setting me down on my unsteady feet. I step back, watching him drive away, trying to ignore that burning sensation at the back of my eyes.
It doesn’t make sense to feel so invested so soon. I’ve felt this way once before; I was a young mum and let myself fall in love with a man who turned out to be a complete asshole when it came to my child. He expected me to always prioritise him over my young daughter, and since then I’ve been wary of catching feelings. Decades of one night stands and short summer flings, that’s all I’ve had.
This feels different. I miss him already, and that makes me very, very scared.