Chapter 24
Chapter Twenty-four
TRISTAN
He woke with his legs tangled with Colby’s, his cheek pillowed against the curve of Colby’s shoulder. Sometime in the night, they’d both shifted closer. Or maybe they’d never really drifted apart.
Tristan didn’t move. He didn’t want to move. He wanted to lie there with Colby as long as he could, warm and happy. He was tracing little patterns across Colby’s back with his fingers when a knock came at the door.
He jumped, and Colby stirred, mumbling something sleep-rough and confused.
Tristan gently untangled himself and padded over to the door. Cracking it open, he found Bryce there, coffee mug in hand.
“Morning,” Bryce said.
“Morning.” Tristan kept his voice soft, pitched low so Colby could rest a few minutes more. But his breathing sped up. He didn’t know what this was about, and he didn’t want a repeat of yesterday, of Bryce rejecting his mate. And, by extension, him.
Bryce’s eyes flicked past him, toward the bed. And then came back, cool and unreadable. “You got a minute?”
Tristan stepped out, tugging the door shut behind him. “What’s up?”
Bryce sipped his coffee. “Just wanted to check in about everything.”
“Well, that sounds vague and terrifying.”
“You slept with him,” Bryce said, and it sounded determinedly neutral, as if Bryce were shielding his real thoughts.
“We shared a bed,” Tristan said, his face heating.
Bryce raised an eyebrow.
Tristan sighed. “Yes, that too. It wasn’t—we didn’t go all the way. But yeah, we were together.”
Bryce’s jaw tightened. Then he said, “Was it what he wanted?”
Tristan’s heart stuttered at the betrayal, and unaccountably, tears pricked in his eyes. “Yes,” he said firmly. “It was.”
Bryce looked at him, expression unreadable. “Sometimes, after people have been trained out of saying no, they don’t realize they can say it.”
Tristan’s throat ached. “You really believe I’d push him? Me?”
“I think you’re the most open-hearted person I know,” Bryce said. “And I think you fall fast and love hard, which is beautiful. But it’s also a freight train. Especially for someone who’s only just crawled out of the wreckage of his last, disastrously bad relationship.”
Silence stretched between them, and Tristan thought about Bryce’s words.
“I didn’t push him,” Tristan said, quieter this time. “I asked. I checked. I waited. And I’d have stopped in a heartbeat if he’d hesitated.”
Bryce studied him. Then nodded, almost imperceptibly. “Okay,” he said. “That’s all I needed to know.”
Tristan watched him walk down the hallway, a knot forming in his throat. He wouldn’t give Colby up, not for anything. It still hurt that Bryce didn’t want them to be together. But Bryce had listened. That was something.
COLBY
Colby lay still in the bed, eyes half open, staring at the sunlight as it filtered through the curtains. Tristan’s warmth was gone from beside him, but the pillow smelled like him—clean and bright, like citrus with something softer underneath.
He could hear low voices through the door.
Not loud enough to make out the words, but enough to measure the quiet, serious tone.
The other voice sounded like Bryce, and he wondered briefly if he should go out there.
Bryce had upset Tristan. But if the problem was him—and it almost certainly was—then he’d only make it harder for Tristan if he did.
He shut his eyes again. Not because he was tired, but because sometimes it helped, when everything inside felt too big.
Last night had been… a lot. More intimate than he’d been prepared for.
And nothing bad had happened. He hadn’t screwed up.
He’d just been with Tristan. Touched, wanted, and seen.
And when it was over, they’d fallen asleep wrapped around each other.
That was maybe the part that undid him most of all.
Somewhere in the middle of all of it—Tristan moving closer, then apologizing when their bodies slid against one another—Colby had known for certain. The lube hadn’t been an unspoken command. It hadn’t meant Tristan expected anything. It had just been there because that was where it was kept.
Despite knowing, he still hadn’t quite believed it then. Not fully. But lying in bed afterward, watching Tristan try to laugh off his embarrassment over banana boxers and post-orgasm logistics, he’d felt it settle inside him.
Tristan hadn’t wanted something from him. He’d just wanted him.
The murmur of voices continued outside the door. He couldn’t hear the words, but he didn’t need to. He’d have to find a way to prove himself to Bryce, to mend this split between him and Tristan. He didn’t know how, but he knew he had to wipe away the hurt in Tristan it had caused.
The doorknob rattled softly, and instinctively, Colby pushed up on one elbow, ready—then stopped himself. He didn’t need to brace for anything here. He just needed to breathe.
* * *
After breakfast, when it had been just the two of them in the kitchen, they’d been on stall-cleaning duty again, then Tristan had retreated to the house to settle down to some coursework.
He’d called in sick for the rest of the week, both to his college classes and his part-time job at the diner, and his TA had sent over the readings he was missing.
Unsure what to do in Tristan’s absence, Colby had wandered around outside.
He was surprised to find a couple of goats loitering by the chicken run.
He wasn’t exactly a country boy, and goats were outside his experience, but he was fairly certain they should be in a pen or a field somewhere, instead of standing here.
The brown and white one was perfectly still, staring at the horizon like it was brooding. The black one was trying to chew through the latch to the chickens.
“Hey,” Colby said cautiously. “You’re not supposed to be here, are you?”
The landscape-appreciating one blinked at him. The other chewed on the latch a little harder, tail flicking.
“Go on. Shoo.”
The goats did not shoo. Instead, the brown and white one made a low maaaa sound, took two deliberate steps backward, and launched itself—spring-loaded—straight into his thigh.
“Shit!”
He staggered back, tripped, and landed on his ass. From which dignified position he blinked up at the two goats, who were now triumphantly staring down at him like they’d vanquished a deadly enemy.
“Chaos!” came a familiar voice, laughing. “Be nice.”
Colby twisted around to see Tristan jogging toward him, hair ruffled and eyes sparkling. “Sorry,” he said, offering a hand to help Colby up. “They like to test people. You okay?”
“I got headbutted by a goat.”
“Technically, you started it. You challenged her by looking like you were about to enforce rules,” Tristan said. “Chaos doesn’t like that.”
“Chaos?” Colby asked, brushing grass off his ass.
“And Mayhem,” Tristan said, gesturing to the other goat, who was now trying to chew through the gate. “They’re sisters. I got them when I first came here. Bryce said I could have a pet, and I wanted something with character.”
“Something with character,” Colby echoed. “You got goats.”
“I was fourteen. I’d just discovered goat videos on YouTube. My logic was flawless.”
Colby shook his head in disbelief. “And you kept them?”
“Jason likes to use the milk for cooking. When they’ve kidded, that is.
Matt put his foot down about it this year, after Mayhem ate his laptop cable.
He said two demon beasts were enough. Jesse and I are working on him for next year, though honestly?
If he doesn’t say yes soon, I think Jesse’s going to let them go searching for next door’s billy all by themselves. ”
Mayhem had now climbed onto a rain barrel.
“You going to do something about that?” Colby asked.
“Nah,” Tristan said fondly. “She’ll come down when she’s ready. Or she’ll fall and try to style it out.”
Colby eyed the goats with healthy suspicion. “So let me get this straight. You named them Chaos and Mayhem, and nobody thought that might be tempting fate?”
“Oh, they thought it. Believe me.” Tristan’s grin was sunshine and innocence. “But it wasn’t too bad until they started following me into the kitchen.”
Colby turned slowly to look at him.
Tristan raised both hands innocently. “Just once. Maybe twice. And it was Bryce’s birthday…”
Colby sighed. “You are dangerous.”
“Only when armed with livestock,” Tristan said cheerfully, reaching out to tug Colby closer by the hem of his shirt. “Come on. I’ll make you coffee.”
“Sounds like an offer I can’t—hold on, aren’t you supposed to be studying?”
Tristan shuffled. “Maybe I thought you could test me? I have a quiz on Monday.”
“Okay,” Colby said. “But shouldn’t we do something about the goats first?”
“You’re a braver man than me,” Tristan said. “You can try if you like.”
Colby looked at the goats, looked back at Tristan, and chose the better part of valor.
As they walked together toward the house, a faint thread of contentment uncurled in Colby’s chest, warm and unfamiliar. Something stirred in response. Slight, but unmistakable. It was just a flicker of presence from his wolf, but it was there. Watching.