Chapter 12
SCOTT
“The festival is amazing.” Scott and Justin walked side by side through the crowded grounds. Banners fluttered in the sun, music from the live event stage put a spring in everyone’s step, and the scent of popcorn, grilled sausage, and hot caramel apples wafted in the breeze.
All. That. Food. It smells so good, his coyote whined. Feed us!
We’ll eat dinner. But this stuff goes hard on the stomach, Scott warned his coyote.
Whatever happened to getting in touch with your inner coyote? his other half argued.
It doesn’t include food. Wild coyotes eat mice and carrion, Scott retorted and got an annoyed growl in response.
“Kudos to Valerie and the whole committee, you included.” Justin bumped shoulders with Scott.
“One of those ‘it takes a village’ things, but it finally all came together.” Scott loved the warmth of the sun on his face and the feel of the breeze in his hair.
Once they had finally put the Mob threat to bed, he felt a whole new level of gratitude for simple pleasures and the knowledge that no one was stalking him.
This was their first real outing since the showdown with Santoro and his attempt on Scott’s life. Scott still felt exposed out in public and knew he was scanning the crowd like a prey animal.
“Breathe.” Justin squeezed his hand. “You’re okay.”
Scott took a deep breath and let it out. “I know. I don’t like reacting like this. But it’s hard.”
We would feel better if we got to bite a particular someone, his coyote suggested helpfully.
Scott ignored the advice.
“The doctor said it would take a while to let go of the anxiety,” Justin replied in a quiet voice no one else could hear. “I know it’s going to be a long time before I stop with the constant vigilance, and I wasn’t the one in the line of fire.”
Scott started to answer and froze. Justin followed his line of sight and spotted two men with their backs to them, wearing dark jackets. He pulled Scott over to the side so they were out of the stream of festivalgoers.
“It’s not Frick and Frack,” Justin said. “They’re in jail. These guys aren’t even in suits. Just dark jackets. You’re safe.”
Scott pretended to look at his phone while he took several measured breaths under Justin’s watchful eye.
I hate being so damaged. Justin’s being patient, but what if I never get over it? I know what the doctor said—that it can take months or longer. That being stalked by a killer counts as trauma. That having reactions is normal. Doesn’t mean I like it.
I haven’t had a decent night’s sleep since the warehouse. I keep seeing moments from the showdown in my dreams, and sometimes they just pop into my mind. I flinch at anything that sounds like a shot. I haven’t even felt like doing more than cuddling. I’m a mess.
“You’re having a perfectly normal response to a very abnormal situation,” Justin said quietly, and Scott remembered that his boyfriend had an increasingly strong psychic connection.
“I’m here for the long run. I’m not going to run away.
I’ll do anything I can to support you. Just give yourself time and a little grace. ”
And we will take down anyone who hurts us, his coyote swore loyally.
Scott looked into Justin’s eyes and saw the truth of his words. He took a few more deep breaths and ran through one of the litanies the trauma counselor had taught him. It always surprised Scott when the techniques worked.
“Okay,” he said finally. “That’s…better.”
Our mate makes everything better, his coyote said.
“Do we need to go home?” Justin asked.
Scott shook his head. “No. I want to stay. The weather is perfect, and I helped make this happen. I’m not going to let those bastards take it away from me.”
That morning, Scott had done his presentations to enthusiastic attendees. The events went well, even if Scott had to white-knuckle his way through them, but apparently the audiences didn’t notice.
Those count as wins. I wasn’t sure I could do them, and not only did I manage, but I’m doing better than I’m giving myself credit for. I’m not broken. Just…dented…a little.
“Hey,” Justin prodded gently. “Stop thinking. All the fun stuff is out here,” he teased with a grin.
“I’m trying,” Scott admitted. “Thanks for being patient.”
“I’m here. I love you. Not going anywhere,” Justin assured him.
Scott gripped his hand more tightly before releasing it. “Let’s go listen to the band,” he suggested, trying not to feel self-conscious.
“Sounds like a plan,” Justin replied, and together they wove their way through the crowd.
The festival didn’t have the budget for big-name acts, but the slate of popular local and regional performers offered plenty of variety with groups that frequently played at clubs and bars or headlined nearby music events.
Scott had been excited when the committee put together the roster and resolved not to let what had happened tarnish his joy.
When they reached the back of the crowd by the stage, they saw a familiar face.
“Good to see you out and about,” his cousin Lynn greeted them. “I snuck away from the shop for a few minutes so I could see the festival for myself. This is amazing.”
“You’re right, it’s pretty spectacular.” Scott felt a blush of pride at having been part of the committee, helping in at least a small way to bring the festival to life.
Lynn nodded. “It takes something special to get people off their duffs and out of the house, even on a nice day. Just look around. I swear the whole town is here, and quite a few visitors too. That’s great for everyone.”
“I’m guessing the store has been busy?” Justin asked.
“Slammed,” Lynn said. “I need to head back. But I know I won’t get off until tonight, and I didn’t want to miss all the fun. Come by when you can. We haven’t seen you in a while.” She waved goodbye and headed through the crowd in the direction of the shop.
Scott sighed. “She makes it sound like I went missing for weeks. It really wasn’t that long that we were dodging the suit guys.”
Plenty long enough, his coyote chimed in.
“Felt like forever,” Justin said. “I’m just glad it’s over, and we can do our best to forget all that mess ever happened.”
They found Liam and his mate Russ standing at the back of the crowd, listening to the newest band to come on the stage, a local group that played covers of favorite top 40 tunes.
“Isn’t this just the best?” Liam pulled a piece of cotton candy off the large cloud-on-a-stick that he held. “It’s so great to see everyone out having a good time on a beautiful day.”
There is a meat smell. Can we get meat to eat? his coyote whined.
Later, Scott admonished.
I’ll be dead by then. Starved. You’ll be sorry, his other half retorted.
You’re such a drama dog, Scott replied, but his tone was fond even if in his mind his coyote swished his tail impatiently.
“I can’t believe how much the event has grown over the years,” Liam went on.
“It was just a little afternoon outing when it started and now look! I heard that all the motels are booked up with out-of-towners who come for the weekend because of the festival. That’s a great boost right before things slow down. ”
Justin glanced at his watch. “I played hooky this morning to come with Scott, but I’m booked solid for tours all afternoon and most of tomorrow. And I give all my customers coupons for Bear Necessities Coffee and Café and the Lone Coyote so they can fill up on coffee afterward and then shop.”
“It takes a village…and Fox Hollow definitely delivers,” Liam replied. “I feel so proud of this town. We really have something rare and wonderful, and that’s even without some of the ‘special abilities’ our folks share.” He gave a knowing nod.
“Enjoy all the rest,” Scott said. “We have a date with the dart game before Justin has to go fly.”
“Good luck!” Liam laughed. “Knock ’em dead.”
“Have fun,” Russ added.
We were promised food, his coyote reminded Scott.
And we’ll get some. They stopped for sausage on a stick. Scott’s coyote loved the taste, and Justin’s flirtatious comments and knowing winks made it worth the grease.
Scott pulled Justin toward the row of brightly colored games of chance along one side of the park. Darts, basketball, ring toss, and Skee Ball were just a few of the events, with all funds going to charity.
“They’ve even got a duck pond for the kids.” Scott pointed to the shallow pool with plastic ducks with hidden prize numbers taped underneath.
“Gotta start those kids early on gambling,” Justin teased, and Scott elbowed him in the ribs.
It would be more fun with real ducks, his coyote suggested.
“Didn’t you ever play games like this when you were a kid?” Scott asked.
“I was more into the video games they had at the pizza place,” Justin confessed.
“Mom didn’t like those games. She thought they were a waste of money and promoted betting,” Scott said with an expression that clearly showed his disapproval.
“I wasn’t usually allowed. But one time, I went to the fair with an older cousin, and he had his own money.
He took pity on me, and we blew it all on games and junk food.
Absolutely glorious. If you’re not secretly an ace at these, we should be evenly matched.
” Scott purchased tickets. “I don’t care about winning, but it’s fun to see how well we do. Or how bad we are!”
Justin came out ahead on the basketball toss, while Scott won at Skee Ball. Neither of them scored at ring toss, and Scott groaned when one of his darts not only missed the target but the entire backing board.
“Hey, it’s the thought that counts,” Justin joked. His darts stayed on the board but didn’t score.
After the games, they stopped at the Fox Institute tent to say hi to Becca and made sure to spend some time at the table Amy and Becca shared, offering good luck spells and psychic readings.
“Nice to see you boys under happier circumstances,” Amy said. “We did a cleansing ritual before the festival started to get rid of any leftover bad energy. It’s amazing what hangs around after everything that happened.”