Chapter 5 Axel
AXEL
Stan’s house was small but cozy, and its proximity to the woods was perfect for him being able to shift undetected by humans.
But there was only one bedroom.
“You take my bed.” He led me into the living room and positioned me on the couch. Ouch. Now I understood why my teammates complained when they injured themselves.
“I’m not kicking you out of your bed.” I patted the sofa cushions. “I can sleep here.”
“Axel, you have a concussion, three broken ribs, and a broken wrist, among other injuries. You’re sleeping in my bed.”
I saluted. “Yes, sir.”
“I’m supposed to be looking after you. What would your coach say if he found out I’d parked you on the sofa?”
I shrugged but even that was agony. “He might kick your ass.”
Stan giggled, and I did too, but it hurt every part of my body. “Don’t make me laugh.”
He put his hands on his hips. “I did no such thing. It was all you.”
Gods, I’d forgotten how being with Stan lifted my mood. How I’d missed him. In the years we’d been apart, I’d forgotten how he put me at ease and was a sounding board for when life was in the toilet.
I didn’t have the energy to fight him about the bed. The bumps on the drive from the hospital had reinforced how I needed to heal, and to do that, I had to shift.
I can’t right now.
I know, buddy, but we’ll work on that.
Stan had explained how my wolf being knocked unconscious too had affected my recovery, or lack of it.
I stifled a yawn, but Stan caught me as he passed by with clean sheets.
“I’m putting you to bed.”
How I wished he was joining me.
He helped me into the bedroom and stood over me while I took the pills prescribed by the doctor.
“When did you get so bossy?” When we were dorm mates, he was more subtle, though I often did what he suggested.
“Let’s think.” He tapped his lips. “I’ve got it. When you ended up in my ER after playing tag with a car.”
“Got it.”
Stan covered me with a thick quilt, saying he was going to cook dinner. “And tomorrow, we have to convince your wolf to take his fur.”
Don’t want to.
We both might feel better after a nap.
I didn’t want to shift but preferred to hide under the covers and pretend that my hockey-playing future wasn’t in doubt.
I didn’t get that dinner because I slept for more than twelve hours, and when I opened my eyes it was light out and an enticing coffee aroma had crept under the bedroom door.
Heaving myself up and cursing I hadn’t called out to Stan, I swayed like a ship on a stormy sea as I made my way to the living area.
“Morning. How are you feeling?” Of course he’d heard me approach because I sounded like a herd of elephants. But he also would have scented me like I did him.
The whole house scented of Stan, and it reminded me of when we were living together. No matter how tired I was when I got back from a game or practice, his scent smoothed my aches.
“Like I got hit by a car.”
“That’s an improvement. When we were driving and you were in and out of consciousness, you said you’d been hit by a truck.”
Oh yay. I was marginally better.
He brought me coffee and juice and made scrambled eggs. He’d never cooked for me before. I didn’t know he could.
My wolf was so subdued he wasn’t niggling me to mate Stan. And that worried me. Maybe he had a concussion too.
Eating with my left hand was awkward and bacon skittered onto the floor. Stan cut up $my food and fed me a few mouthfuls. That was both embarrassing and adorable. He even wiped my chin.
After we’d eaten, he suggested a walk in the woods. Though the ground was uneven and my ribs complained when I moved, leaning on Stan’s arm would keep me upright.
“Let’s take it slow. Being outside could encourage your wolf to shift. The scent of a deer or rabbit might be enough of an incentive to get him out of your skin.”
It was cool in the woods but I was sweating, and Stan gripped my arm.
“You don’t have to do this today.”
But I had to try because if my wolf was injured, that would affect my balance, sight, reflexes, and hearing. I’d never get on the ice again.
Stan undid the buttons on the PJ shirt he’d loaned me and slipped it off my shoulders while I gritted my teeth. Maybe it was my imagination but he stared at my chest for longer than was necessary before moving back.
He gave me privacy, not because either of us was embarrassed about my nakedness. We were shifters, not humans who were kinda puritanical about dicks and balls. Nope, my friend thought it might be easier if my beast and I were alone.
I had gone commando because briefs were too hard to put on.
After leaning on a tree and wriggling off my sweatpants, I pleaded with my wolf to come out.
My wrist was in agony, and if he took his fur, my pain might be in the past, but he couldn’t.
I wandered through the bushes, pointing out a rustling in the undergrowth and the birds above us singing, the breeze swaying the branches and how the tall trees filtered the light.
Is that a squirrel in the tree above us? He was taking an interest.
Yeah. Wanna come out?
Maybe.
Other than my very first shift when I was a teen, the process of changing from man to beast was pretty uneventful. But this time it hurt like heck. Owww. Owww. It seemed as though every bone in my body was breaking, which it kinda was, but it was usually so quick I barely noticed.
But after he took his fur, he didn’t run or move. He stood in the same place, not saying anything to me. He’d lost interest in the squirrel, so I took my skin. I was disappointed because the shifter technique of healing injuries had deserted him, and I was the same as before he took his fur.
We can try again tomorrow.
Okay.
I sat on the ground to get my pants back on. Stan appeared and led me back to the house, explaining that the recovery wasn’t going to happen immediately. He helped me onto the sofa and pulled up a chair beside me.
“Coach called this morning before you woke up.”
“What?” I sat up, forgetting about my injury but stifled a whimper.
“You don’t have to do that. Pretend you’re not hurting.”
I ignored him and asked what Coach wanted.
“He asked when you’d be fit to play again, and I told him I didn’t know.”
I hugged a cushion to my chest. “What if I can’t? What if this is it?”
“You don’t know that.”
“Hockey is all I have. It’s the only thing I’m good at.”
“I know you, Ax.” He put a hand on my arm. “You’re a fighter and you won’t give up.”
“I gave up on us.” Shoot, I blurted that out without thinking it through. Now I had to deal with the repercussions.
“What?”
I could backtrack and blame my head injury or I could tell him the truth. Maybe not the whole truth because he didn’t know we were mates. If he’d shifted with me today, the will-he-won’t-he scenario would be behind us.
My wolf said we’d be mates if Stan shifted with us, and I told him maybe. That negative thought still festered in the depths of my mind that while Stan was my mate, I might not be his.
“I shouldn’t have said that.”
“No.” His voice rose. “Say what you mean, Ax.”
I gulped and plowed ahead. “I missed you when I transferred, and I never stopped thinking about you.”
Stan got up and sat in an armchair opposite me. He was no longer within arm’s length.
“Friendships can be hard to maintain long distance.”
I wondered if he’d chosen that word, friendship, deliberately. Now I had a choice. Two paths lay ahead. I could fib and we’d hopefully continue our friendship or spit out the truth and risk losing him.
“But I wanted, ummm, want more than a friendship.” I’d said it and couldn’t take it back. “I chose hockey over you.”
Stan got up and paced the floor. “Are you telling me you wanted to—”
I cut him off. “Stick my tongue down your throat? Yeah, and more.” I cringed ‘cause that came out wrong. I might have to apologize.
Stan strode over to the sofa and gently lifted my legs and sat, placing them on his lap. My heart was pounding so loudly, I glanced outside, thinking someone was jackhammering.
“I thought about you a lot too.” He told me about intending to come to the game and how he’d watched others in the past.
“There’s never been anyone else, Stan.”
He didn’t say anything, and my wolf stared, though he was silent too. Stan chewed a nail, a habit I recognized. He was nervous.
“The thing about sticking your tongue down my throat, did you mean that?”
“Yeah.”
“Not sure I’m ready for that, but maybe something not as aggressive.” He leaned toward me and put a hand behind my head. His lips met mine, and I closed my eyes. I’d dreamed of this moment, but my imagination wasn’t as good as reality.
I brushed my tongue over his lips, and he moaned. The vibrations made my lips tingle and goosebumps dance over my skin. I so wanted to part his lips, but he’d laid down the ground rules and I had to respect that.
The kiss was tentative, almost a promise, and I pulled away, my eyes looking for a sign of rejection.
“That was nice.” He put a finger to his lips, and I imagined him imprinting the memory.
Stan didn’t move away or ask to kiss again, and my mind whirred over what was going through his head.
“This is a huge decision, and it’s not one I can make today.” He took my hand, flipped it over, and traced over my palm. “I need time to think.”
There it was. While he didn’t say it out loud, he wasn’t sure if I was his one and only. Maybe he liked me, maybe it was more than that, but I was certain he was holding out for his true mate.
“Of course.” But I wanted to scream, “No. Please say yes, say you want me as I desire you.”