5. The End
Chapter Five
The End
DYLAN
I needed to have a serious talk with Chris after this. As my best friend, he should have been way more aware of my current situation and should have stuck around to prevent me from making a spectacularly bad decision.
Like blurting out that Miles looked like a god walking among men.
Or reaching out and playing footsie with him under the table.
Or jumping over to him and rutting my needy cock against his until we both came with our clothes still on.
Or, of course, loudly and boldly proclaiming that fate decided we should be together, and who were we to deny her wishes?
Now that it was just the two of us, all of those stupid ideas were way more likely to happen. And if I had to choose, I knew I’d want to do it all and more.
Was it the fated mate connection that fried my brain and turned it into horny mush? Was he feeling anything at all? He certainly seemed to be playing it cool and was cum and collected—fuck. Calm and collected.
I needed someone to spray me with cold water. Maybe even dump a bucket of ice over my head. Anything to put out the growing flames that licked up the small of my back.
His phone buzzed on the table, drawing his attention for a moment. It allowed me to take a deep breath and compose myself. I wiped my mouth with the back of my hand in case I’d been drooling and hadn’t realized it. Thankfully my hand came back dry.
Miles looked up from his phone with the color drained from his face. It seemed like he’d just seen a ghost. I sat up in my seat, instantly on alert. “What’s wrong?”
He stayed quiet. Worry lines appeared between his dark eyebrows, creasing the otherwise perfect tan skin.
Maybe it was something extra personal? The thought gave me whiplash, going from feeling concerned to feeling like I overstepped by asking him.
His business wasn’t mine, no matter how close I felt to this man whom I’d only just met.
Never make someone feel like you’re poking and prodding them for information. Let it happen naturally, that’s how real relationships happen.
It was something my father would always say, and something I took to heart, even after he proved himself to be a shitty man lacking any kind of moral compass.
He probably wasn’t the best person to take relationship advice from, but I couldn’t help it.
I grew up seeing him as my hero, as someone who could do absolutely no wrong.
So I compartmentalized that version of him and kept him separate from the man who ripped my family apart and sent me spiraling in a hundred different directions.
And yet…
Maybe it was best I didn’t keep idolizing even the “pre-divorce” version of him. He wasn’t two separate people. He was one, and he was wrong.
“You can talk to me,” I said again, ignoring my father’s advice and giving Miles a gentle prod, just so he could know that I was a safe space. I wasn’t a big gossiper and I genuinely listened to people when they spoke. “Only if you want to, of course.”
“I do, it’s just—it’s so fucked up.” He rubbed a hand over his mouth, that expensive-looking gold bracelet glinting as though he’d just freshly polished it. “I don’t even know where to start.”
“Start at the end.”
He cocked his head at that, eyebrow arched.
I grinned at him. “That’s something my therapist would tell me. She’d say it was a way to rethink some situations by examining them from the current moment to the past. Puts a different lens on things sometimes.”
“Huh.”
“Told you she was good.” I was glad Miles didn’t appear to be shutting me out. Sure, maybe there was something weird going on with this faulty fated mate connection between us, but that didn’t mean I wanted to push him away.
The sound of the door opening made Miles jerk up straight, his head whipping toward the noise. A giggling couple walked out of the cafe.
Damn. What the hell was in that text? Did he owe money to the mafia or something?
“Mind if we go somewhere a little more private?” he asked. “Those Bobcat fans are kind of loud.”
“Oh, they’re fans?”
“I think so, I heard something about loving the team.”
I was still unsure where this was headed, but I knew for a fact he wasn’t suggesting a private location for the same reason my mind had immediately jumped to. No, whatever it was that was bothering him was something he didn’t want anyone else to hear.
I knew that if I suggested going back to my place, the temptation to make a move would be way too strong.
Hell, I’d been sporting a dripping chubby since the moment Miles sat down across from me.
Thankfully I’d worn my black jockstrap to the gym today, otherwise I’d be leaking right through my shorts.
“There’s a nice park down the street from here. Usually quiet. I know a spot by a lake that no one ever goes to.”
“That sounds good,” Miles said, still looking like he was on high alert about something. The metal chair creaked and screeched against the concrete as he pushed it back and stood. I tried not to focus on the bounce that happened at the front of his gray athletic shorts.
I really tried, and I really failed.
I cleaned off the table a bit, using the brief distraction to collect myself before standing up next to Miles.
The offending couple continued to laugh as if they were trying to prove to us they were having a good time.
It was probably all in my head, but damn, the sound was starting to grate on me. Perfect timing for our exit.
But… “Hold up,” I told Miles. He waited for me as I ducked back inside and went to the hostess.
“Hey,” I said, pulling out my wallet. “Can I pay for that couple’s meal out there? Yeah, the ones laughing.”
“Of course.” The hostess took my card and ran it for the table. She thanked me and handed it back. “Want me to tell them anything?”
“Just to, uh, keep on laughing… and living”—don’t say it—“and loving.”
The hostess cracked up at that. “I’ll pass along the message.”
I thanked her and went out to meet Miles. “Everything good?” he asked.
“Yeah, I just covered that couple’s bill.”
“You did?” He sounded impressed.
“You said they were fans. I figured it’d be nice, even though their witchy laughing was annoying the fuck out of me.” I smiled at Miles and winked at him. “Come on, let’s go to that spot I was talking about.”
We crossed the cobblestone path winding through the small garden until it met the sidewalk.
We were close to downtown, but instead of taking a left and walking into the heart of it, I led us to the right.
We walked past a local bookstore that primarily stocked romance novels, a small bakery with a mouth-watering window display of colorful tarts and cakes, an Irish pub with some of the best chicken wings I’d ever had, and finally, an ice cream shop that filled the air with the sweet scent of vanilla.
The tree-lined entrance to the park was tucked away from most foot traffic, marked by a dark blue picket fence. A sign at the entrance displayed a tiny map of the looping path that circled the small man-made lake. There were only three parking spaces, and all of them were empty.
“This a little better?” I asked him as we entered the park.
As I expected, we were the only two people walking down the trail.
Burlington had many outdoor spaces that people typically flocked to that were larger and more scenic than this random gem I’d stumbled across.
This park felt more like a well-kept secret than a public destination and I was totally good with that.
Apparently, so was Miles. “Yeah, this is great. Thanks for bringing me here.”
“Of course. It’s a chill spot. I like coming here before games sometimes. Gets me in a good headspace.”
“I can see why.” Miles looked out at the glimmering, placid lake, its surface only occasionally broken by a curious fish swimming up to snack on a mosquito or beetle. “So, I guess I should start at the end, huh?”
“Sounds about the best place to start.”
He offered me a half-cocked grin. I could tell Miles wasn’t one to flash toothy smiles all the time.
He struck me as someone who was reserved with his emotions.
Not detached from them, but had them under constant watch.
He didn’t appear very prickly or walled-off from the few interactions I’d had with him, but there was an ice there that might be difficult to break.
“I just got a text from my stalker.”
My eyebrows rose so fast, I was sure they made the sound of spinning tires screeching on the street.
Then a honk from somewhere nearby made me realize it wasn’t me, but just someone narrowly avoiding an accident.
I froze mid-step and turned to him. “Jesus… Miles, wow. What the hell?” He’d quite literally left me speechless. I wasn’t sure what I was expecting him to say, but it certainly wasn’t this.
“Yeah, so that’s the most recent development.
Part of the reason I took this job was for a chance to move away, hoping I could shake off whoever is stalking me.
I don’t have any sort of online presence and took a whole fuck-ton of measures to try and get this person off my trail.
” Miles shook his head. “None of it worked. They found me.”
A chill rippled down my back. Miles was clearly shaken by this, and if something could shake a shifter, it was something worth fearing.
Miles let out a sigh and continued down the path.
“I’ve tried everything to track this person down.
Used legal means and went rogue in other ways.
I’d spend days in my wolf form, trying to track down some scent or trail.
And that was very dangerous with how populated Philly is, but I’d keep to the suburbs.
I’d double back on my own trail, hoping to pick up a scent from someone following me, keeping watch on me.
But found nothing.” He slipped two fingers through his gold necklace and ran them back and forth.
“It makes no sense to me. I’m not great at making new friends so I keep my social circle small.
Emmy’s basically my only friend—my only best friend, at least. I’ve only dated two guys before and both of those ended on good terms years ago.
I don’t know how I could have drawn in a stalker like this. ”
“Wait, do they know you’re a shifter?”
Miles nodded. “It was one of the first things they said in a handwritten letter they wrote and left in my bedroom.”
The chill intensified to what felt like an army of ants crawling over my shoulders and down my spine.
I tried to shake off the invisible fuckers.
I slowed and motioned toward a bench that was tucked away inside a copse of thick oak trees.
A squirrel sitting on the back of the bench stopped grooming itself and leaped off, its tiny claws scratching over the bark as it disappeared.
Besides the squirrel, it was just us out here, and the wall of trees gave us a good amount of privacy.
“That’s really messed up. Fuck, Miles.” I sat down on the bench.
“It has not been ideal, to put it lightly.”
“Are they just, like, in love with you?” Even saying that out loud felt weird.
Suggesting anything about love or love-adjacent next to my fated mate felt equal parts natural and extremely vulnerable.
It was premature, even though I wasn’t directing the word at him.
Another emotion—and one that was way more surprising and slightly upsetting—was a pang of jealousy.
That was odd. I’d never been the jealous type, not with any of my previous relationships, and that extended from romantic to platonic.
I knew people who’d get jealous of their friends hanging out with another group, or talking about a new acquaintance.
Not me, though. I’d been immune to the bite of that obnoxious green snake.
Well, at least I thought I’d been immune.
Then again, this was an unhinged loon we were discussing here.
I assumed it was the fated mate connection that scrambled my logic.
It was hard to ignore now that we were sitting together, our legs only a couple inches apart, his fingertips splayed out on the wooden bench and brushing against mine.
That tiny fraction of physical touch blended with the intense and alluring scent that wafted off him every time a strong breeze whipped up to create this undeniable pull in my core.
As if someone had tied us together with invisible string and wanted us pressed together.
“I think so,” Miles answered. “It started with texts at first, and they were innocent enough. Like a friend or possibly an old lover I’d lost the number of.
But things escalated after I refused to continue talking to this person because they wouldn’t reveal who they really were.
Then the physical letters started coming.
That’s when threats started, which really only happened a couple months before I moved to Burlington. ”
“What were the threats?”
“Silver bullets to the heart or an iron collar around my neck.”
My entire body stiffened. As if someone dumped that gallon of ice water over my head that I’d been asking for. I rubbed at my neck, I could almost feel the iron collar still locked onto me.
There were only two things that were able to strike fear into a wolf shifter’s heart.
Mine skipped a few beats. There was a connection there that I wanted to grasp at, but I couldn’t push past the feeling of having that fucking collar on my neck.
It happened months ago and the feeling was still as fresh as if it happened yesterday.
The instant it closed around me, it completely sapped my energy and—even worse—my will.
I had no choice but to agree to every single command given to me.
Like a professionally trained dog at their master’s heel, except I was a human who’d gone from being free one second to being captured and used as a pawn the next.
“What? What is it?” Miles asked.
Now it was my turn to close off. I hadn’t really talked about that time with anyone except for Chris.
I thought that conversation with my best friend had worked like a balm over the pain of those few hours being held literally fucking hostage, but being asked to bring it up again made me feel a massive spike of anxiety.
My mouth dried up. I balled my hands into fists, which ended up breaking that butterfly-light connection with Miles. That, in turn, made my anxiety worse.
Fucking hell.
I couldn’t have a panic attack here. Not in front of Miles. It had been years since my last one. I thought I was good now. Cured, even.
But the second the curtains started to close on my vision was the second I realized it was happening.
Oh shit. This isn’t good.