3. Colton
Chapter 3
Colton
I scrubbed a hand over my face, trying to shake off the heaviness clinging to my bones.
My back ached like hell, stiff from sleeping in a chair that was definitely not meant for comfort.
I must’ve passed out sometime in the night, slumped forward in the too-small space beside the bed.
With a low groan, I straightened, ready to stretch the knots from my muscles—until my gaze landed on the man lying in the bed. Remy.
The name sat heavy in my chest, curling there like an unanswered question. He was in and out of consciousness last night but now he was out cold.
His breathing was slow and even, the bruises on his temple a stark contrast to his otherwise smooth, creamy skin.
Without the tension of pain or exhaustion, he almost looked peaceful. Almost. But there was a tightness to his brow, like even in sleep, he was bracing for something.
I should’ve left hours ago. Hell, I shouldn’t have lingered at all.
Remy was in good hands. Ethan was on shift and more than capable of keeping an eye on him.
There was no reason for me to be here. No excuse for the way I sat by his bedside like some overprotective idiot waiting for him to wake up. And yet, I didn’t move.
I dragged a hand down my face, exhaling through my nose. What am I still doing here?
I could’ve justified it a dozen different ways. What if Cooper found out I dragged a stray shifter into the pack clinic? What if he questioned me?
What if he decided Remy was a threat? That was a valid concern. Or at least, it should’ve been. But Cooper wasn’t Ryder.
He wasn’t our previous alpha, the one who ruled with cruelty and suspicion, who would’ve thrown Remy out or worse without a second thought.
Cooper was fair. Reasonable. And he'd trust Ethan’s judgment.
So that excuse? Yeah. Total bullshit. The truth was, I didn’t want to leave. I didn’t like that realization.
Didn’t like the way something twisted in my gut whenever I looked at Remy, the way my wolf stayed on edge, prowling just beneath my skin.
I didn’t know this guy. I didn’t owe him anything.
And yet, the thought of walking away made my chest tighten in a way I didn’t want to examine too closely. The quiet was broken by the sound of curtains sliding back.
“You’re still here,” Ethan said, his tone somewhere between surprise and smug amusement.
I glanced up to find my little brother standing at the foot of the bed, one eyebrow raised, arms crossed over his chest.
He was trying way too hard not to grin, and it made me want to punch him.
I scowled. “So?”
Ethan’s smirk deepened. “So, you’ve been here all night.”
I grunted, rubbing the back of my neck. “Got tired. Fell asleep.”
Ethan hummed like he didn’t quite believe me. Dang it.
I didn’t need him analyzing me right now. I barely understood what the hell was going on in my own head—having Ethan poke at it wouldn’t help.
“Uh-huh,” he said, dragging out the syllables. “And I’m sure that has nothing to do with our guest.”
I didn’t answer. Couldn’t.
Because anything I said would either be a lie or an admission I wasn’t ready to make. Instead, I turned back to the bed, my eyes landing on Remy once more.
Still unconscious. Still vulnerable.
“His name was Remy, right? For some reason, he seems familiar,” Ethan mused as he checked him over.
I frowned, watching my brother’s fingers expertly press along Remy’s temple, checking the bruise there.
“Familiar? You’ve seen him before?” I asked.
“I can’t be sure,” Ethan admitted, his expression thoughtful. “A lot of wolves passed through during the summit.”
That made my frown deepen. “You think he came to the summit?”
I tried to recall, but nothing about Remy sparked recognition. Then again, I’d barely had a chance to breathe during those few weeks, let alone pay attention to unfamiliar wolves.
I spent my time juggling the kitchen’s chaos, making sure everyone was fed, trying to cover for staff shortages, and smoothing over the constant complaints of visiting alphas who got bent out of shape over the smallest things, like seating arrangements.
“I might be mistaken,” Ethan said with a shrug, but there was something about the way he looked at Remy—like he wasn’t so sure he was wrong.
Before I could press him, a low groan came from the bed.
I was on my feet in an instant, moving before I even thought about it. Ethan cast me a look that was far too amused as he slowly backed away.
“I’ll leave you to explain the situation,” Ethan said.
I barely heard him.
My attention was locked on the man stirring in the bed.
Remy’s lashes fluttered before his eyes opened, unfocused at first, like he was trying to piece together where he was. I expected more confusion, maybe even fear.
But what I didn’t expect was for my breath to hitch when I finally saw his eyes.
They were blue. Not just any shade of blue—bright, clear, summer sky blue. Like the kind of sky that stretched on forever, untouched by a single cloud.
Something in my chest went tight. Remy blinked at me, dazed. His lips parted slightly, dry and cracked, his breathing uneven. He was trying to place me, I realized.
Trying to figure out why I was standing over him, staring like a damn fool.
Then, all at once, something clicked in his mind, and he lurched upright—only to groan in pain, clutching the side of his head.
“Take it easy,” I said quickly, stepping closer before I could stop myself.
The urge to reach out, to press him back down, nearly overwhelmed me, but I clenched my fists instead.
“You took a nasty hit,” I added.
Remy let out a rough, humorless laugh. “Yeah, no thanks to you.”
I winced. “Yeah, I’m really sorry about that. I didn’t realize anyone was in the trash.” I hesitated, then asked, “What were you doing in there anyway?”
As soon as the words left my mouth, I regretted them.
Remy’s face flushed, his jaw tightening. His gaze flickered away from mine, and shame rolled off him in waves. Real smart, Colton.
“That was—insensitive,” I muttered quickly. “Sorry.”
I wasn’t even sure why I was apologizing. I wasn’t the type to feel guilty over an honest question. But something about the way Remy shut down made my stomach twist.
“There’s no need to apologize,” he muttered, voice quieter now. “I chose to dumpster dive.”
His words made something dark coil in my chest. Chose? I knew some people dumpster dived as a hobby but was it really Remy’s choice or because he had no other option?
I studied him more closely now.
His sharp cheekbones.
The way his collarbones jutted out just a little too much beneath the loose hospital gown. His wrists were thin, his skin pale.
Ethan had been right—Remy was malnourished. He also looked exhausted, like he’d been running on fumes for far too long. A knot formed in my throat.
I’d seen stray wolves before—rogues passing through, some half-feral, others just lost—but none of them had ever made me feel like this. Restless. Uneasy.
Like I was teetering on the edge of something I didn’t understand and I didn’t like not understanding things.
“Where am I?” Remy asked suddenly, dragging me from my thoughts.
“The Pecan Pines pack clinic,” I answered.
The moment I said it, his entire body went rigid.
His breath hitched, his fingers tightening around the blanket. His eyes darted to the door, like he was already calculating the fastest way out of here.
“You know where you are,” I said slowly, watching him carefully.
Remy hesitated, then gave a small, jerky nod.
Interesting.
That meant he knew of us. Which meant he’d either been here before—or at least heard enough about our pack to recognize the name.
Maybe Ethan was right. Maybe Remy had come to the summit. And if that was true… then why didn’t I remember him? Why didn’t return with his own pack?
I swallowed hard, my pulse pounding in my ears. I wasn’t the kind of guy who got attached to strangers. I didn’t do this—whatever this was.
But looking at Remy now, taking in the way his shoulders hunched like he was bracing himself for bad news—the thought of letting him go didn’t sit right.
“I really am sorry,” I said, rubbing the back of my neck.
The words came out rougher than I intended, but I meant them.
Really meant them. It wasn’t just guilt. It was something else—something I couldn’t quite put a name to. Remy’s blue eyes flicked to mine, wide and uncertain.
He looked so damn adorable like that, caught between skepticism and surprise, like he wasn’t used to people apologizing to him.
The urge to do something—anything—to make up for knocking him out cold warred inside me. The first thought that popped into my head was food.
I could buy him a meal. Or groceries. Something to make up for the fact that he’d been digging through trash to survive. But what if he took it the wrong way?
What if he assumed I pitied him? Or worse—what if he thought I was trying to buy something from him?
The idea of Remy looking at me with anything other than that soft, wide-eyed expression made my stomach twist.
I cleared my throat. “Look, can I at least drive you back?”
Remy blinked, clearly caught off guard.
For a moment, I thought he might refuse. His lips parted slightly, like he was debating it, but then he exhaled slowly and gave a small nod.
“That’d be great, actually. I know I can’t stay here,” Remy said.
Something in me eased at his answer.
Before I could say anything else, Ethan’s voice interrupted. “Everything good here?”
I turned to see my little brother standing there, grinning like he knew a secret. My eyes narrowed immediately. What was that look for?
Ethan’s gaze flicked between me and Remy, that smug smile not fading in the slightest.
I sighed and gestured lazily between them. “Remy, this is my brother, Ethan. He’s the apprentice pack healer. Ethan, Remy.”
Remy looked at Ethan, offering a small, polite smile. “Thanks for taking care of me.”
Ethan waved a hand. “No problem. But you should really be thanking Colton. He’s the one who watched over you all night.”
Remy’s eyes widened slightly as he turned to me. “You did?”
I shot Ethan a shut the hell up look before muttering, “Ignore him.”
Ethan chuckled but didn’t say anything else.
Remy was still looking at me, though. There was something unreadable in his expression—like he wasn’t sure what to do with the information.
I ignored the way my chest felt uncomfortably tight under his stare and gestured toward the door. “Come on. I’ll give you that ride.”
* * *
The drive back to town was quiet at first. I wasn’t sure if Remy just wasn’t a talker or if he was still wary of me, but I tried not to let it bother me.
As we left the Pecan Pines pack compound, I noticed the way his shoulders slowly relaxed.
The tension that had been sitting stiffly in his frame eased bit by bit, like he could finally breathe now that we were past the borders. That was… interesting.
Maybe he really had been at the summit, and something had happened here to make him uneasy. I wanted to ask. Heck, I should’ve asked. But I didn’t. I just let him have his quiet.
It wasn’t until we neared town that I finally spoke. “Where can I drop you off?”
Remy shifted slightly in his seat, glancing out the window. “The park’s good.”
Something about the way he said it felt off.
I flicked a glance at him. “You sure?”
“Yeah,” he said quickly. “I’m meeting a friend.”
I wasn’t sure if I believed that, but I also wasn’t about to call him out on it. I pulled up near the park, bringing the truck to a smooth stop.
Remy moved to undo his seatbelt, and I felt that same weird, uncomfortable feeling creeping in again. I should’ve just let him go. But… screw it.
“Next time,” I said, watching him carefully, “come to the restaurant’s front doors. I’ll treat you to a meal.”
Remy’s hands froze on the seatbelt. He turned to look at me, brows furrowed. “I?—”
Before he could protest, I held up a hand.
“Please,” I said, letting the word hang between us. “It’s my way of apologizing.”
I saw the moment his resistance cracked.
His lips pressed together, his shoulders tensed, and then—finally—he gave a small, reluctant nod. “Okay.”
I tried not to look too damn pleased about that. I pulled my phone out of my pocket, unlocked it, and handed it over. “Here. Just in case you feel lightheaded or anything.”
Remy hesitated for half a second before taking it.
His fingers brushed against mine, and a spark shot up my arm.
I stiffened, but Remy didn’t seem to notice. He just typed in his number, handed the phone back, and gave me another small nod.
Then, without another word, he slipped out of the truck and walked toward the park. I watched him go, gripping the steering wheel a little too tightly.
Something about this felt unfinished, and I had a feeling this wasn’t the last time I’d be seeing him.