Chapter 9
Chapter Nine
DAVE
The motel room’s air was stale with heat and the faint, lingering scent of sex and antiseptic. Christian’s soft snores had finally faded into silence as he lay with his arm draped over Dave’s waist. Dave had been awake for a while, watching the light creep around the edges of the curtains.
He’d hoped this trip would bring them closer, but it had flung them into the heart of the whirlwind instead.
He wasn’t sure what had changed, or when.
Or maybe nothing had. Maybe routine and the presence of the rest of the pack had papered over the cracks all this time.
No, not cracks—they didn’t run that deep.
But there were tensions between them, the constant push and pull of who they were.
Being here with no distractions had cast an unforgiving light on that fact.
Last night had only underlined it. Seeing the way Christian lit up in the cage hadn’t made Dave feel less wanted, but he’d realized he didn’t understand what fighting gave Christian. Not really. That both hurt and scared him.
The problem wasn’t that they were different but that they’d stopped trying to understand those differences. They never had, if he were honest. They’d simply let them settle, like sediment. Being here, with nothing else between them, had stirred it all up again and made it hard to see clearly.
It hadn’t exactly been easy at the start, but he’d wanted Christian so badly, and been wanted in return, and that had been enough. They’d made it work because they were mates, and love had smoothed over what understanding didn’t quite reach.
And now, maybe for the first time, they had to really look and learn who they were together.
He reached for his phone to check the time. Jesse’s pack could wait a few more hours, because this was more important than anything.
* * *
When Christian stirred at last and cracked open sleep-blurred eyes, Dave leaned over him and said lightly, “How d’you feel about treating this like the romantic getaway we pretended it might be?”
Christian blinked. “Huh?”
“You and me. Something better than burned coffee and no tea. Let’s try being tourists together, like this is a vacation.”
Christian grinned slowly, making Dave’s heart kick. “You asking me on a date, Mitchell?”
“It’d be our first,” he said. “Let’s get lunch somewhere nice, and we can check out the town like we’ve nothing else to do but be together.”
Christian’s hand cupped his jaw, and he drew Dave in for a kiss.
“Guessing that’s a yes,” Dave said afterward, because Christian’s eyes were smiling into his.
“Maybe,” Christian said, rolling over and sitting on the edge of the bed. “Don’t want you thinking I’m easy, though,” he added over his shoulder, and Dave lay back on the pillow, laughing helplessly.
God, that was what thinking in the middle of the night got him.
He’d gone way overboard, thinking that things between them weren’t working.
They loved each other, and they got one another in a way no one else did.
They just needed to be free of this place—the ghosts on the cliff, this damn fight ring—get home, and everything would be fine.
CHRISTIAN
The sun was warm on his face and Dave’s shoulder bumped against his every few steps.
That was about all Christian needed to call this day a win.
It had started well—slow, easy sex with Dave when they had nowhere else to be, and then a video from Tristan of Diablo, coat gleaming and mane and tail freshly brushed.
Though Christian also thought Diablo was looking a little too keyed up, like he needed a long run to settle him.
Sometimes that damn horse reminded him of himself.
He’d watched the vid a few times, though after the first go-around, he’d muted it.
Karl was talking in the background, and his low voice was oddly grounding.
If Matt was the bedrock of the pack, Karl was the shield, constant, alert, and always where he was most needed.
But then Colby had answered him, the sound of his voice scraping Christian raw.
Now, it was just him and Dave, and everything was good. They’d had breakfast in the same diner again, with the same server calling Dave “darlin’” again, and now they were simply walking, the breeze ruffling Dave’s hair.
Christian paused to look in the bakery window, because, hello, cinnamon rolls, when Dave suddenly laughed beside him. He smiled before he even knew why Dave was laughing and turned to see what had him so amused.
A golden retriever had plopped itself down in the middle of the sidewalk and was refusing to get up.
Its elderly owner was becoming increasingly agitated, trying to tempt it with treats, insulting its parentage, all to no avail.
The dog simply thumped its tail happily against the concrete and lay there.
“Think I should growl in its ear? Might get it moving,” Christian said.
Dave’s grin widened. “You’d probably scare the crap out of it,” he said. “Literally. And there’s bound to be a bylaw about dog shit on the sidewalk.”
“Fair point.”
Instead, Christian checked in with the owner and scooped the dog up in his arms. The dog was completely pliant, except for the small and annoying fact that she kept licking his chin, like it was her mission in life.
Each time he adjusted his hold to make it harder for her, she somehow wriggled just enough to reach her target again, and he strode along the sidewalk with a big hairy armful and a warm, wet tongue on his face that just wouldn’t stop.
“If you think I’m kissing you after that dog has, you’re out of your mind,” Dave said.
The owner chuckled. “Lucille’s stubborn, but she wouldn’t hurt a fly. I’m Frank, by the way.”
Dave leaned past Christian slightly to meet Frank’s gaze. “Nice to meet you, Frank. I’m Dave, this is Christian.”
“Appreciate the help, boys. My knees aren’t what they used to be. I haven’t seen you two before. You new in town?”
Christian tried not to show his impatience. He was happy to help the old guy, but he’d been enjoying time alone with Dave. Didn’t need to know anyone’s life story.
“Just passing through,” Dave said. “You lived here long?”
“All my life,” Frank said. “Born here, lived my whole life here, probably die—hold on, isn’t that a John Mellencamp song? But yeah, Silver Rock’s our home. It’s a good place, though it’s not what it used to be.”
Christian adjusted the dog in his arms to cover any involuntary reaction he might have given, just as Dave nudged him in the ribs. Evidently, they’d reached the same conclusion—Frank might turn out to be useful in their investigations.
Dave, ever easy with strangers, kept the conversation going the entire way back to the house, an older ranch-style home with a swing seat on the porch and neatly planted flower beds.
“Will you boys come in for a drink?” Frank asked, as Christian put Lucille down on the porch.
She instantly sat on his foot, her tail beating the wood in a rhythmic pattern, big brown eyes locked on his face like he hung the moon.
“Sara’s been baking this morning. She’ll be tickled to have company. ”
DAVE
Inside, the house was cool and smelled of cinnamon and coffee. A ceiling fan spun lazily overhead, and the living room looked like it had been lived in for decades—soft rugs, well-worn armchairs, and a hand-stitched quilt tossed over the back of the couch.
Sara, a petite woman with smiling eyes and flour on her apron, greeted them like they’d been friends for years, not in the least taken aback to find two complete strangers accompanying her husband home from his walk.
“You’re just in time,” she said. “The cookies only came out twenty minutes ago, so they’re still soft. Now, coffee, or there’s iced tea if you’d prefer?”
“Iced tea would be lovely, thank you,” Dave said.
Christian shrugged as he sat down. “Black coffee, please.”
Lucille plopped herself next to Christian with a dramatic sigh, resting her head on his knee. Dave fought not to roll his eyes. He should have seen this coming the instant he realized the dog was female.
Christian looked down at her like she was some kind of mystery growth he wasn’t sure how to remove.
“She always like this?” he asked.
Sara chuckled. “She likes people fine, but that”—she gestured at the dog, mooning up at him like a lovestruck teenager—“is not normal.”
“Tell me about it,” Christian muttered, as Lucille gave his hand a wet swipe. “Pretty sure this qualifies as harassment.”
Dave smirked, but he also took the opportunity to direct the conversation in a way that might be helpful. “It’s probably because he’s a shifter,” he said lightly.
If that resulted in their getting kicked out, so be it. Wouldn’t be the first time.
Sara simply blinked as she took in the information, no different than if he’d said they were from Oregon. “Oh, but you’re not part of the pack, are you? I haven’t seen you before, and you don’t seem—”
She cut herself off, lips pressing firmly together. Which was enough to have Dave’s curiosity raging.
Christian glanced at Dave, letting him take the lead.
“You mean the Silver Rock pack? No, we’re just passing through,” Dave said. Then he paused, unsure how to dig for more. He wasn’t built for cloak-and-dagger, especially not with a sweet couple and their annoyingly lovesick dog.
Frank had no such problems about making conversation, and once Sara had brought the drinks through and settled in an armchair, she seemed just as happy to chat.
They heard about the new bakery in town, the folks on their street, potholes, road resurfacing delays, and the way the power had flickered all through July.
Frank stirred his coffee. “Used to be a little different around here. More folks in town, more to do. A bunch left when the cannery shut down and the pack changed.” He glanced at Sara. “Still, we like it here.”
“The pack changed?” Dave tried to keep his tone neutral.
“They used to be part of the community, showing up at town hall meetings, helping out with the fall festival, that kind of thing.” Frank frowned. “Not anymore. They don’t want anything to do with the rest of us these days.”
“Ever since the new leader took over,” Sara said.
“Barton?” Christian asked. He was absentmindedly stroking Lucille, who was vibrating with joy, but his voice was sharp with interest.
“Yes, that’s him. Took over about ten years ago,” Frank said.
“Sixteen,” Sara corrected. “Don’t you remember? We were at Carmen’s wedding, and by the time we got back, the cannery had posted its closing notice and West was gone. Quite the week.”
Frank laughed, eyes distant. “That’s right. Had to connect through Dallas because of that snowstorm. Ended up stuck there overnight—awful turbulence on the second leg, too. Think it was an A319. You know, those Airbus narrow-bodies? They fly like a damn soda can.”
Dave cleared his throat, gently rescuing the conversation. “So West was the old alpha?”
“Yeah. Good man,” Frank said. “Didn’t say much, but he always looked you in the eye.”
“And he simply left?”
Sara shook her head. “We don’t know the details. Folks said there was some kind of leadership challenge?
She looked questioningly at Dave, who nodded. A pack alpha could be removed by someone challenging them for the position.
“But I’m not sure it was a normal one, because the shifter government got involved and made a ruling that Barton was the new leader. The National Council, is that what it’s called?”
Dave nodded again.
“And then about half the pack was gone within a month.”
“Liesl at the library, and Trent at the garage—”
“And everything changed,” Sara said firmly, before they heard the entire catalog of old pack members from Frank.
“These days, the pack keep to themselves, as if they don’t like the rest of us.
Most folks are fine letting them because we don’t much like that—that thing they’ve got going in the old plant. ”
Christian looked up from where Lucille was practically melting across his lap but said nothing.
“But not all the pack can share Barton’s attitude,” Dave said, thinking of Justin, how easygoing and friendly he was. “Right?”
Sara hesitated, then gave a small shrug. “Possibly. But if they don’t, they’re keeping it quiet.”
Frank reached for the last cookie. “Not like the old days, but I guess everything changes sooner or later. The rest of the town’s still neighborly, though, like the way you two helped with Lucille.”
Christian gave Lucille one last scratch behind the ears and stood. “We should probably head out. Don’t want to overstay our welcome.”
“Nonsense,” Frank said, waving a hand. “You saved my knees and Lucille’s dignity.”
Sara rose to her feet. “Let me wrap some cookies for you to take. Least I can do.”
“That’s really kind of you,” Dave said. He meant more than just the cookies.
The easy warmth they’d been welcomed with, the familiar, looping conversations between Sara and Frank—patterns formed over decades together—left his chest aching a little.
He hoped he and Christian would have that one day, that deep, abiding knowledge of each other.
The gentle tolerance and quiet affection.
“If you stick around, come by again,” Frank said, standing with them. “Sara’ll bake something fresh.”
“We’ll hold you to that,” Christian said, his smile a little wry as he glanced down at the dog still glued to his side. “Assuming Lucille lets us leave.”
He took a step and Lucille went with him, tail waving hopefully.
“You’ve got ten seconds to go find a chew toy,” Christian told her. “Otherwise I’m filing for a restraining order.”
Frank held her collar, and she stared longingly after them as they headed down the path, Dave clutching a small paper-wrapped parcel containing cookies.
He hadn’t told Sara he was vegan and had claimed a large breakfast when declining them earlier, not wanting to risk making things awkward.
It wasn’t as if Christian would object to eating them all.