23. This Is Going to Hurt
Chapter Twenty-Three
This Is Going to Hurt
DYLAN
This was the affirmation I needed from Miles. What I’d been craving, almost as badly as I’d been craving his body.
I was an anxious person. Something I worked to hide, but something that still ate away at me on the daily.
Those anxious thoughts had a tendency to taint the outlook of certain situations.
Over the last couple of days, ever since the hotel, I’d somehow managed to convince myself that Miles was never going to want to come out about us being together and that I would be forced to swallow that bitter pill of staying a secret or cutting losses early, turning my cheek to fate, and running away from what my heart shouted at me to pursue.
Not only that, but what if this mismatched fated pull connection was trying to tell me something?
Miles was a genius, impressing me constantly with his knowledge of pretty much anything, but especially the human body.
He’d talk to me about some of the injuries he’d treated, treatments he’s used, and new studies he’s read.
And all I do is sit there, nod, and try not to say something stupid.
I was a hockey jock who had to retake calculus twice and who started to sweat whenever someone mentioned taking a test. My skills and strengths were physical, turning me into a confident player on the ice but leaving me with self-doubt elsewhere.
Miles never made me feel less than, which I appreciated, but that didn’t matter when I was already making myself feel that way without anyone’s help.
All I wanted was to be his good boy.
That’s why I didn’t hesitate when I got that text asking me on a date. I pushed through the guilt of not listening to Chris and now found myself sitting across from Miles, who was telling me exactly what I needed to hear to make me feel like we were solid.
“Thank you,” I said, unable to tamp down my smile even if I tried. “I didn’t want things to be hidden. I’m a bad actor, anyway. The guys were already starting to put some pieces together.”
Miles arched his brow. “Like what?”
“Soren mentioned something the other day about me needing some extra time with the trainer. Gabe jumped in and teased me some more. Eli elbowed him to shut up. That’s when I kind of thought the snakes were officially on the train.”
Miles cocked his head and threaded his fingers so that they formed a loose fist in front of his mouth. I could still see him smiling. “Then I should definitely talk to Coach sooner rather than later. I’d rather him find out from me.”
“Want me to go with you?”
“No, no. I’ll handle it.”
There wasn’t a big age difference between us at all, him being twenty-nine to my twenty-seven, but his tone in how he said handle it definitely gave me daddy vibes. And honestly? I didn’t mind it.
Miles clapped his hands. The grin still on his face. “Ready for the main course?”
I took a final bite of the delicious salad and nodded.
Miles cleared the table and disappeared into his house.
He had made his backyard feel like the patio to a cozy, high-end restaurant.
He’d strung the lights up all along the tall fence, wrapped them around the willow tree that stood like a guard in the corner.
The night air was chilly but nothing that required jackets or coats.
Shifters usually ran hot. There were days even during the dead of winter where I felt comfortable enough to go out in shorts and a shirt, but I also didn’t want to raise any questions so I learned to dress the part.
I smelled the steak before Miles even brought it out. My mouth watered as he placed the juicy piece of meat in front of me. It was glazed with a thick sauce, a long stem of an herb I didn’t recognize sitting on top of it.
“It’s a filet mignon with a homemade garlic truffle glaze.”
It only took one bite for me to fall in love. “Holy shit, that’s really fucking good.”
“Thank you. I’ve got to cook for you more often.”
“You definitely do. And I’ll give you more massages in return.”
Miles looked up at that, a flicker in his hazel eyes. “I’d love that.”
“Good,” I said confidently. “So where’d you learn to cook?”
“My dad,” Miles said proudly. “He had to handle everything, being a single dad. One of the things he’s great at is cooking. I shadowed him in the kitchen all the time.”
“You mentioned your dad not being a shifter. How was that?” I asked. It was only one of a thousand questions I wanted to ask Miles.
“It was fine. He already knew about us because his grandmother was a shifter. She was a hawk shifter. He didn’t know if I’d follow suit until he went into my bedroom when I was five and found a wolf cub curled up in the bed.
At that age, you know, we don’t stay shifted for long.
So an hour later I was up and asking for a bowl of cereal.
He sat me down and explained it as best he could to a five-year-old.
He talked about being different and how I have to make sure I keep this special trait as close to my chest as possible.
I had one accidental shift at a grocery store once, a couple months after that.
He hid me in the bathroom until I turned back, and from then on, I always had better control.
I think it was the fear I saw in his eyes that convinced me I had to keep it a secret. How about you?”
That all sounded similar to my own experience with a few key differences.
“My father’s a shifter,” I said. “He told my mom before they had me. Showed her by shifting into his wolf form. So when they had me, they were on high alert. I had a couple more accidental shifts than you. I was five when my shifter traits kicked in. It happened on the playground once, but my Mom had a blanket and covered me. The other parents and kids thought I passed out from the sun.” I shook my head at the memory.
“Crazy. But it did help that my dad was a shifter himself. I learned a lot from him, before he turned into a complete fucking sleazebag douche nozzle shifter asshole.”
The labels were comical, but they also came from a place of hurt.
“Did anyone else in your family know?” Miles asked.
I nodded, happy to move off the topic of my dad but not super excited about the direction it turned.
“Most of my dad’s side of the family. Some of them are even druids, so they knew all about us.
My cousin, he’s a druid. I remember the day he went to his awakening ceremony.
I wasn’t allowed to go—no one else but the apprentice and their elder can go—but he described some of it to me, about how he felt like he could talk to every tree, feel every deer, smell every plant.
” I gave a shrug. “Sounded like he just had some really strong sativa to me, but no, he’s really a druid. ”
I didn’t love talking about my cousin. Benji and I were as close as brothers. He was the one thing I missed from my old life, from pre-divorce. I didn’t even miss my dad as much as I missed my cousin.
Miles must have read something in my face because he leaned in, locking his eyes on mine. “Reach out to him. I can see how much he meant to you. It’s worth seeing if you can reconnect.”
“I don’t know… I thought about it when we were at Hunter’s house. But—”
“But what?”
“I don’t like rejection, or emotional conflict. I don’t want to open up a wound that’s already scabbed. I don’t know if that’s worth it.”
“Those things are scary and uncomfortable, but it’s also not a guarantee that any of that will happen. What makes you think he won’t reply with the same kind of optimism and attitude that you have?”
I pursed my lips. Age-old question. Why did I torment myself with the worst-case scenario every time I was confronted with a little bit of doubt and insecurity? “I guess it could go the other way.”
“And it most likely will. If he’s anything like you, then I really doubt he’ll push you away.”
I let go of a deep breath, then took the last bite of my steak and thought it through.
Typically, my anxiety would push Jesus out of the way and steal the wheel, but with Miles here, it was like my anxiety was scared off.
Like shadows being pushed away by the light.
Never truly gone, but made much less stark.
Their power leeched away, and shifted in a more positive direction.
“Fine,” I grumbled. If the worst happened then so be it, at least I tried. And if it didn’t happen then that meant Benji and I were back in touch, and that was more than enough to take the chance.
“Fuck yeah,” Miles said. “Send him a message. Right now.”
“Seriously?”
“Yeah, we already have his social media. Just send him a message.”
Damn. This man really had me in the palm of his paw, didn’t he? All he had to do was blink in my direction and I was listening to any of his commands.
I decided not to fight it. I gave in. Grabbed my phone, opened the app, and searched his name. Sure enough, he was the top hit. I hit Follow, which then allowed me to send him a message. Why the hell did I suddenly feel nervous? My mind went blank. “What do I even say? It’s been like ten years.”
“Say something like… ‘Hey, Benji. I know it’s been a while. I was hoping you’d be open to a phone call or a FaceTime so we can talk…. I want to make things right between us.’”
That was perfect. I typed out every word. Something was needed though. I typed out the last words without trying to second-guess myself with every letter.
Miss you.
I looked up, catching Miles’ encouraging gaze. He gave me a smile. I knew this was the right choice. I pressed send. There. Done.
Holy shit, holy fucking shit. I’d been thinking about doing this for so long.
I’d always come up with a new excuse. Another reason to back out.
But not this time. Miles helped push me over the edge on this one.
It had still been my choice to make but I wasn’t entirely sure I would have made it if it wasn’t for Miles.
Having him around made me feel as if nothing could go wrong in this world.
I knew that wasn’t actually possible—to have a completely smooth ride through life without any turbulence—but having Miles sitting across from me, encouraging me, his amazing food in my belly and his sweet scent in my lungs, I felt like I’d never have another problem in my entire life.
Things were meant to be. Fate was real. And I had to believe that fate didn’t have it out for me like I thought she had this entire time.
If fate really did want me to suffer, then Miles never would have crossed my path.
“If he blocks me, I’m losing it.”
Miles chuckled at that. “He won’t block you. You’ll see. This is going to turn out great.”
“I know,” I said, actually believing it.
I pocketed my phone, feeling relieved that I’d at least initiated some type of contact.
I leaned my head back, stretched my neck, looked up at the dark night sky.
There was a bright, waxing moon sitting directly above us.
In a few days it’d be full, and the two of us would involuntarily shift into our were forms. More beasts than humans.
As primal and powerful of a time as it was for us, it was also a vulnerable time.
When basic instinct and carnal emotions sometimes overpowered logical thought.
Maybe… maybe if we spent it together, then Miles would feel the fated pull? His heightened senses in his were form could make a difference?
It could have been a crazy idea. I had only been around people in my own pack during full-moon shifts.
I wasn’t sure what kind of emotions would overtake me if I was around Miles when it happened.
Would I absolutely lose my mind? Would I be able to control myself?
Would I tear him apart out of frustration?
Only one way to find out. And after messaging my cousin tonight, I was riding a high of making “fuck it” choices.
I looked back at him, wondering how best to bring this up. I wasn’t exactly great with nuance. “So, uh, the full moon—want to spend it together?”
Yeah. That could have been way more finessed.
Miles glanced up at the sky, following my trail of thought and sudden shift in focus. He turned his attention back to me and searched my gaze for something. I had no idea what for. I sat there, holding his stare, trying to will him to agree.
He took in a breath. Let it out through his nose.
Shit. Was that too big of an ask? Had I crossed some kind of boundary I wasn’t even aware existed? Why the hell couldn’t I do anything right?
I started to retract the ask, opening my mouth and blubbering out some nonsense. Miles raised his hand and stopped me. I braced myself for impact.
This was going to hurt, wasn’t it?