Chapter Sixteen
RILEY
Jason’s smile hit Riley deep in the gut. Such pure, uncomplicated happiness. Pure wasn’t the obvious word choice given just how enthusiastically Jason had begged for Riley’s cock yesterday, but his heart… his heart was open and trusting.
Riley ruthlessly quashed the stirrings of guilt. He might not be telling Jason the truth about his reason for being here, but everything that mattered, what lay between them, was real.
“But you’re happy now, in Urban’s pack?” he checked. Because if he found out they were mean to Jason, judged him, he’d—he didn’t know what he’d be able to do against a bunch of shifters, but he’d do something.
Jason’s smile wavered for the slightest instant, and Riley was ready to start swinging.
“Yeah,” Jason said. “I mean, sometimes I wonder… But I do belong. They’ve never made me feel like I don’t.”
Didn’t sound precisely like a ringing endorsement.
Seemed as if Jason’s old pack had set the bar so low he thought anything that wasn’t outright abuse was good.
But Riley had jumped to conclusions before and been wrong, like when he’d thought Jason was being forced to cook for them, so he’d approach this one with more circumspection.
Well, look at that—seemed he had learned something from his time in the newsroom.
“What’s it like, Urban’s pack? I mean, I don’t know how packs are supposed to be. Is it like a family, or more like a platoon, where you have to do what you’re told?”
“Family,” Jason said firmly. “The only difference being you can choose your pack.”
Riley’s stomach twisted, something sharp and bitter lodging behind his ribs. “Yeah,” he said. “Must be nice to be able to choose.” And before he could stop himself, more came spilling out, ugly and raw. “Not everyone gets that chance.”
He plucked a pine needle from the ground and snapped it in half in his fingers, jamming the sharp ends into his skin to stop himself from saying any more. Saying too much. He never talked about this. Never even really let himself think about it.
But since coming to Elk Ridge, since talking about his travel guide and meeting Jason, memories had been stirring.
Regrets, pieces of himself he’d buried for years.
And now, Jason wasn’t looking at him like he was a failure or one of the characters he inhabited.
He was just there, that steady presence that never asked for anything from Riley.
Maybe for the first time in his life, Riley wasn’t performing.
And the words wouldn’t stop coming out of his mouth.
“Someone tells you you’re family, actually gives a damn about you?
You’re fucking lucky, Jason.” He flicked away the broken pine needle, watching it tumble into the dirt.
He wanted to get up, to shake off whatever vile thing had crawled under his skin and made him feel like a stranger in his own body, but his legs felt weirdly weak, and he wasn’t entirely sure they’d hold him.
Jason said nothing and sat still, giving Riley the space he needed. Or maybe he was just so shocked by Riley’s breakdown that he didn’t know what else to do. Run away, Riley wanted to tell him. Get away from me now, before you find out just how fucking broken and pathetic I am.
“My folks—” his voice caught. “My parents aren’t like that. Not so into the whole unconditional love thing. You’re good if you tick the right boxes, bring the right kind of girl home for Thanksgiving.” He laughed again, short and bitter. “Turns out I’m not good at any of those things.”
He had to shut up. He had to make sure Jason still thought he had his shit together, that there was something worthwhile in Riley. Instead, he glanced sideways, met Jason’s steady, unwavering gaze, and he just kept fucking going, spilling his guts in ugly emotional vomit.
“I figured out pretty early you’ve got to fit in if you want to matter. Gotta be useful in some way or another. Otherwise—” his throat worked. “Otherwise, no one looks twice.”
He remembered one time, after his first solo in a middle school concert, how his dad had clapped louder than anyone, pulled him into a hug, kissed his head, told him he’d never been prouder. Back then, Riley had taken it for granted. His dad’s pride had felt like a constant.
It wasn’t. He only realized later—his dad had been proud of the performance. Not of him.
That was it. He’d said way too much. He was officially done. “Guess that’s why I’m so charming.” He forced his usual grin and felt it stretch too tight. “Survival tactics.”
Jason was still watching him without saying anything, and Riley hated how soft his eyes had gone. Like Riley was something fragile instead of a mess who didn’t know when to stop fucking talking.
After a long moment, Jason spoke, quiet and firm. “That’s bullshit,” he said. “You don’t matter because of what boxes you tick or what you do. You matter, Riley.”
And somehow, that broke something deep inside Riley.
“I spent so long, trying to get them to notice. My dad’s big into appearances—country club, community boards, all that shit.
He play-acted the loving father just as long as I fit the mold of his son.
” He felt his lips twist. Felt it, but couldn’t stop it.
“Turns out, getting caught with your tongue down another guy’s throat in high school?
Not exactly an approved look for the family Christmas card. ”
Jason sucked in a breath, loud enough for Riley to hear.
He should stop. But it was like whatever had cracked open in him had words spilling out, and the words had teeth.
“My mom told me I was the problem, not him. Different generation, you know—I needed to understand. That it would be easier if I’d find a nice girl, give them grandkids.
That I could fix the problem if I’d just try. ”
His fingers dug into the dirt. What the hell was he doing?
“That was one thing I couldn’t do, but the rest?
Tick the rest of those fucking boxes? That, I could do, I thought.
And I did things…” He faltered, clawing into the dirt, desperate to ground himself.
“I did so many things I’m not proud of, Jason.
Things I had to do to get ahead, to be the son he wanted.
Turns out that none of them count if I’m not the straight son they can produce like a rabbit out of a fucking hat when they want to impress someone. ”
Jason’s jaw was tight, his shoulders hunched. He looked like he wanted to do something, but he didn’t know what. And now that Riley had finally stopped his torrent of broken, self-pitying words, he waited for the inevitable. For Jason to walk away or to pity him.
There was silence, except for the rustling of the breeze through the leaves above them and the sound of the stream beside them. Then Jason moved closer, his knee brushing Riley’s, staying there, steady and secure. He reached out and wrapped his fingers around Riley’s wrist, anchoring him.
“You don’t have to be anything you’re not, not with me,” he said, quiet but sure.
That, more than anything, had Riley’s throat tightening. His heartbeat thudded in his ears and he swallowed, masking it with an attempt at a smile.
“Good,” he managed, his voice rough. “Cause right now, I’m all out of charm, and you’re stuck with me for the rest of the day.”
Jason looked down at their knees, still brushing.
“You know,” he said slowly, “I used to think it was just me who had to change to be wanted.” He looked back up at Riley, gaze steady.
“But maybe it’s not about changing. Maybe it’s about finding someone who wants you as you are.
Funny how it’s easier to see that in someone else than in yourself. ”
Riley blinked at him, throat too thick to speak. But the words landed, real and heavy and good.
Before the situation became awkward—more awkward—Jason gave Riley’s wrist a squeeze and removed his hand. Not like he was letting go of Riley. More like he knew not to crowd him.
Riley let himself breathe, filling his lungs with fresh, clean air. The quiet of this place slowly settled over him.
Eventually, Jason stood up, brushing his hands down his jeans. “Come on,” he said casually, his voice light. “I think maybe we deserve lunch after all that hiking.”
Riley huffed a laugh, grateful for the out Jason was giving him. “Told you, you should have gotten that bag of trail mix.”
Jason shot him a sidelong glance. “Yeah, not gonna happen,” he said. “Let’s go find some real food.”
Then he paused for an instant, furrowing his brow worriedly. “Do I talk about food all the time?”
Riley blinked at him. The question seemed casual, but there was anxiety under it.
“No,” he said slowly. “Just when it’s appropriate. Like, right the hell now, when it’s lunchtime yet we’re stuck in the middle of nowhere.”
Jason didn’t say anything for a second, then nodded once, like that was all he needed to hear.
They fell into step, moving back down the trail, pine needles crunching under their feet.
The breeze was picking up, and the path was dappled with moving shadows.
A squirrel darted up a tree just ahead of them, and Riley concentrated on the rhythm of their footfalls and the sound of Jason’s breathing beside him.
By the time they reached the trailhead, things felt looser between them, easy once more—the way they’d been before Riley had voided his emotional baggage all over Jason.
As Jason opened the passenger door of Riley’s rental, Riley leaned on the roof for a second, squinting at him. “Hey,” he said. “Thanks.”
Jason tilted his head. “For what?”
Riley shrugged, glancing away. Not sure how to say it. For being there. For listening and not judging. For caring. “For not telling me how to fix things, I guess.”
Jason’s smile was a little shy, but steady, reflected in his eyes as he looked at Riley. “It’s not you who needs fixing.”
How could Jason have seen right to the heart of him and still say that? Riley slid into the driver’s seat, his heart thudding unevenly in a way that had nothing to do with their hike.