18. Val
Val
Fortunately, I manage to find some bread and fixings for sandwiches. By the time I’ve finished, a platter is piled high and the smell alone has my mouth watering. I toss the last one onto the plate just as Harley and Ryder walk into the kitchen.
Harley looks worried. Ryder still looks like a mean bastard.
He has none of Harley’s finely chiseled features, though with all that beard and shaggy hair I suppose I could be wrong.
“Fixed some food, then we need to sleep, if possible.”
I carry plates toward the kitchen island carefully, limping harder now that I’ve been standing awhile.
“Sit,” Harley orders. “You made food. Now sit down before your leg falls off.”
“It’s not going to—”
“Val.”
I stop talking immediately. Ryder watches the exchange with open fascination. “Wow,” he mutters. “You really did domesticate a wolf.”
I give him a deeply unimpressed look while lowering myself carefully beside Harley. “I liked him before he started bossing me around.”
“I’m helping you,” he informs me.
“You’re bossy.”
“You like it.”
I look at him for one pregnant, long second.
Then, very deliberately, I say, “Yes,” as heat slams through me instantly.
Across from us, Ryder makes a choking sound. “Absolutely not. Nope. I’m done. I refuse to watch whatever weird mating ritual this is.”
Good luck with that, honestly.
I get back up, much to Harley’s chagrin, and pour myself another cup of coffee. For most people that probably isn’t conducive to sleep, but caffeine has never affected me much. It can help me stay awake when I need it to, but it doesn’t stop me from sleeping either. Maybe it’s a shifter thing.
I pour two more cups handing Harley his first. For a second I consider making Ryder get his own. Then I remember I’m thirty-four, not four.
“Here you go,” I say, passing him the mug. “Help yourself to cream and sugar.”
I take a couple more of the sandwiches. Honestly, I could probably eat half a dozen, but Ryder has a look about him that makes me think regular meals haven’t always been guaranteed for him.
Harley takes a bite and immediately moans. “Oh God, this hits the spot. Can’t think of when I last ate more than a snack.”
“This is a snack,” Ryder says around a mouthful of food. “S’good, though.”
I figure that’s as close to a thank you as I’m likely to get.
I tip my head in acknowledgment and after that we eat mostly in silence. By the time we’re done, I’m struggling to keep my eyes open.
Then Ryder surprises me.
“I’ll clean up.”
I blink at him.
Apparently, Harley is just as shocked.
“And Harley, you really need to get up the courage to go into your bedroom.” Ryder adds as I follow Harley out of the kitchen.
Harley peers around me toward Ryder. “What, now you’re going to be giving me advice?”
Ryder lifts one shoulder. “Maybe it’s time I start being a big brother instead of a criminal and a coward.”
“You’re not a coward,” Harley says. “And you don’t ever have to be a criminal again, Ry. You can be a better person than you were.” He reaches out and touches Ryder’s shoulder.
“You’re something different than you were born, sure, but maybe you can see it as a kind of rebirth, you know? The change left you immune to the drugs you’d been addicted to, so you’re free of them. That’s a blessing.”
Ryder sneers. “So you want me to use my powers for good? Do I need a cape and tights for that role?”
“He wants you to quit being an asshole and start being the brother he needs you to be,” I snap. “Mocking that makes you less of a man than you’ve probably ever been.”
Ryder looks like he’d like to argue, but I pivot and walk away before he gets the chance. When I glance back, Harley is gawping at me, admiration shining in his pretty eyes. The sight warms something inside me. I wink at him and take his hand.
“Where do you want to sleep? I need to crash for a few hours, then I have to call and try to get a hold of Marcus or Nathan. They need to know about what was done to Ryder.”
He sighs and stops between the guest bathroom and the bedrooms. “It’s weird, how both me and him ended up in your world, you know? What are the chances of that? Have to be astronomical.”
“Yeah,” I agree, though privately I wonder if there’s more to it than chance. “How long has Ryder been a shifter? I heard some of your conversation, but dipped out to make the food, so wasn’t sure when it happened.”
“A year.” Harley leans against the wall.
“If we’d been closer, maybe he’d have told me, but with our age gap and the differences in our life choices, Ryder’s always kept a distance between us. I hope that will change now.”
“You mentioned that your mother was a mess.” I tilt my head, debating whether I should pry any further, but Harley starts talking before I can decide.
“Mom was an addict, so it probably shouldn’t be a surprise to me that Ryder was one, too. I guess I just really didn’t want to see it.” He rubs at his eyes before continuing.
“The thing was, our mom wasn’t always messed up.
She’d go to rehab or decide she was saved by God and quit doing drugs for a while, and I’d hope—and I’m sure Ryder did, too—that she was really going to quit for good.
She never did, not for long. Our dads were never in the picture.
There’s not a name on either of our birth certificates where the father can be listed.
Mom said she didn’t know who could have fathered us because she was fucked up when she got pregnant with each of us.
We’re lucky not to be damaged by the drugs she used.
Anyway, Ryder was gone by the time I was seven, and Mom died from an infection in her heart’s lining when I was nineteen, which was six years ago. ”
The loneliness in those words hits me harder than I expect.
“You’ve been alone since then,” I say, giving in to the need to pull him closer. “And you sought comfort through whatever means you knew how.”
“I guess.” Harley’s voice is quiet. “I hated being alone.”
“You’re not made for it. Some people are loners, and you aren’t.” I nudge his chin until he’s looking at me.
“There’s nothing wrong with needing someone, or with being a sociable person.”
“Okay.”
Harley lowers his lashes and looks up at me through them.
“I think I’m a sociable person without the social skills, though.” The weak smile he gives me is impossible to resist. I bend and kiss those sweet lips.
When I pull back again, his smile is stronger. More confident. The tension in him has eased a little, and that alone makes me feel better. Figuring it’s safe, I ask another question.
“Did Ryder say if he remembered many details about being changed?”
Harley shakes his head.
“No. Either he doesn’t remember or he doesn’t want to remember it, or talk about it.”
“He’s going to have to do it again.” I hate saying it, but it’s true.
“Marcus will not settle for hearing it just from us, and he sure won’t want a rogue Alpha shifter on the streets, and Ryder is definitely a risk to us, Harley.”
Harley nibbles his bottom lip for a moment before nodding. “I know, but no one will make him join a pack or whatever. I’ll get him to agree to go in and talk to Marcus and Nathan, but no tricking him, no making him stay if he doesn’t want to.”
I understand, but I have a feeling Ryder might be difficult simply to be a shit.
“He needs to learn about what he is, just like you’ve begun to learn about us.”
“I guess.”
Harley glances toward one of the bedroom doors, then shudders.
“He’s right, about the bedroom, I mean. I haven’t even been in here. Will you... will you come with me?”
“Of course.”
I don’t hesitate. Taking Harley’s hand, I walk with him to the door and push it open. The sight beyond it steals my breath. Beside me, Harley gasps and I immediately turn to look at him.
“Hadn’t you even seen it?”
“I tried not to. I just shut the door and ignored it, but wow.” His gaze sweeps slowly around the room.
“This doesn’t even look like my old room. It’s gorgeous!”
“It is.”
I guide us inside, moving slowly so Harley can take everything in at his own pace.
The room is beautiful. White dominates the space, but it isn’t cold or sterile.
Thick white carpet softens the floor beneath our feet.
White curtains frame the windows. The furniture has been stained an aged white that feels warm rather than stark.
The bed is layered with white bedding and scattered with pillows in every colour imaginable.
Touches of blue, cream, green, burgundy, and even golden yellow break up the pale palette. Paintings and photographs hang on the walls, each one celebrating some part of the Southwest. Pottery and sculptures decorate the nightstands and the small table tucked beside a large window.
Everything about the room radiates comfort. Peace. Safety. It’s the exact opposite of what Harley remembers happened here.
“Man, I can’t associate this with the other. It just doesn’t fit.” Harley rises onto his toes and grins, and I find myself grinning right back.
“Whoever designed this deserves a big hug.”
The excitement in his voice is worth more than anything else in the room.
“Oh! Let’s check out the master bath!”
And just like that, he’s tugging me farther inside. I go willingly. More than willingly.
Harley is smiling.
He’s excited.
As he pulls me deeper into the bedroom, I let myself bask in his delight. Every bit of it feels like a victory. Another hurdle cleared. Another piece of himself reclaimed.
Watching Harley begin to heal is rapidly becoming one of my favorite things in the world.