Jem and Tean, Guys Gone Wild Volume 2 (The Lamb and the Lion: Wolves Among Us #4)

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Moving Day

This story takes place before The Same Bones.

“What’s left?” Jem asked when he passed Tean on the stairs.

Mostly hidden behind the boxes he was carrying, Tean said, “A couple more in the bedroom.”

“Sweet.”

Jem took the last flight of stairs two at a time—the end was in sight. Loading the moving truck by themselves had taken hours, but none of it had actually been hard. When they got to the new house, they’d have to unload it all again, but he wasn’t going to think about that yet.

He did a quick walkthrough, checking the cabinets in the kitchen, the refrigerator, the coat closet near the front door.

He was shutting the closet when something caught his eye. A shadow at the back of the shelf that wasn’t right. He stretched up, reached, and brushed the papery softness of aged cardboard. A couple of shimmies brought the box to the edge of the shelf, and he pulled it down.

It was full of calendars from Hollister, the clothing line that featured pretty blond twinks as their models—more or less exclusively.

Jem had known about the calendars. He’d done his fair bit of snooping around Tean’s place, and this was one of the more interesting items he’d turned up.

There wasn’t any porn stashed around the apartment.

No dildos. Nothing to party with except the zannies that were long gone now.

But the calendars, yes. Years out of date.

Not that long ago, in a casino bar, he’d had a conversation about these calendars with Ammon, Tean’s ex.

Or whatever the absolutely most fucked-up version of an ex could be.

And Ammon had told him that the calendars were proof Tean couldn’t let go—not of the past, not of any of the things that had meant something to him once, not of Ammon.

Jem folded the cardboard flaps shut and lifted the box. He’d slide it back onto the shelf. And Tean could carry it downstairs when he—well, when he thought Jem wasn’t paying attention.

But when Jem turned toward the closet, Tean was standing at the front door, watching him through those new glasses that were still big and still black but looked so much better on his face.

“Uh—” Jem said. And then, with one-shouldered shrug: “I was looking for some weed?”

Tean’s expression didn’t change. He stood with his arms folded across his chest.

“I wasn’t snooping,” Jem said. When Tean still didn’t say anything, Jem added, “Although, full disclosure, I may have done, like, a little snooping some of those days that Scipio was dog-sitting me. Or we were dog-sitting each other, I guess. But only because I love you. And because I got bored and there was nothing on TV. And Scipio thought he heard a rat, so we definitely had to check that out. Also, I just remembered Scipio gave me permission, so I’m summing up this explanation by saying that it was all totally cool and I didn’t do anything wrong.

” He pressed his tongue against the back of his teeth, smiled, and added, “Ever.”

“Oh my gosh,” Tean muttered.

“I’m sorry!”

“Jem, it’s fine. It’s not like they’re a secret. Well, they are. But not from you. Or Hannah, who is the absolute nosiest.”

“Oh, I can totally see Hannah snooping through your closet.”

“She claims she was looking for an umbrella.”

Whatever tension the moment had held, it fizzled away now. Jem adjusted the box in his arms. “I’ll put them in the truck.”

But Tean opened the flaps. He thumbed through the stack of calendars. A hint of color surfaced under the soft brown of his cheeks. “I didn’t—it’s not like—um, I know it’s not any of your business, but it’s not like I kept these to, um—”

“Franken your wienie?”

“What?”

“Wax the carrot?”

Horror grew slowly in Tean’s face.

“Uh, race your mule? Do the five-knuckle shuffle? Milk the monster?”

“Oh my gosh. Please stop talking.”

“Tean, babe, I don’t care. I’ll show you what I like if you want. There’s this site where you can click on their clothes and they pop off, and the dongs are top-notch—” Jem stopped at the look in Tean’s eyes. Cleared his throat. Squared up his voice before saying, “I mean, I heard about—”

“Ammon gave me one for my birthday,” Tean said. “It was stupid. We were still in high school then, and it was a joke.” He paused. “Kind of a joke.”

“Some joke.”

“And then it turned into a thing.” Tean’s soft smile was turned inward. “I mean, it wasn’t a joke after a while because, well, we changed. Ammon and I.” The smile faded. “I should have gotten rid of them a long time ago.”

“You don’t have to get rid of them,” Jem said.

Which was, in his opinion, the best, most boyfriend-y thing he’d ever said.

Something made Tean smile again—a huge smile that he fought, and failed, to tamp down. “No, they can go. I’ll drop them in the dumpster on the way out.”

“You don’t have to,” Jem said again.

For some reason, Tean’s smile got even bigger. But he took the box and said, “It’s okay. I think it’s time to move on. Why don’t you grab the rest of the stuff from the bedroom, and we’ll get out of here?”

“Right,” Jem said. “Sure.” He ran a hand through his hair. He considered the box of calendars, and he studied Tean’s face, and then he posed the most important question: “You still like blonds, though, right?”