Chapter 32
32
ELLIOT CRANE
How are you?
It’s been a while.
SETH MAYS
You know what they say.
If you don’t have anything nice to say…
My phone started buzzing, and I sighed. I answered it anyway. “I’m not very good company right now,” I told Elliot. He was right—it had been a while. In fact, the last time I’d talked to him had been the day he’d almost triggered a shift by turning me on. It had been incredibly embarrassing, and I’d intentionally been avoiding talking to him because I flushed every time I even thought about it.
“Sometimes that’s when we need to be company the most,” he replied. Calm, reasonable, kind. How could I not fall for this guy? Other than the whole thousand-miles-away-and-doesn’t-want-a-relationship thing…
I sighed. “I’m sorry,” I mumbled. “I’m just…”
“I know, baby.”
I felt the tears starting, but at least I was alone in my room—I hadn’t told Noah about my almost-shift those few weeks ago, because I knew he’d have put off the vacation he’d already put off once because of me.
“Did you work today?” he asked me.
“Yeah. Why?” I could feel the frown furrowing my brow.
“So I know whether or not to ask you how it was.”
“Oh.” Why did that make me feel raw and exposed? It made no sense, but a lot of how I felt around Elliot made no sense. I shouldn’t care about him, I shouldn’t be falling for him… and yet all those things were true.
“So how was it?”
“Pretty boring,” I told him, honestly. “I put cans and boxes on shelves, did some laundry, and handed out bags of household goods to shifters who needed them.”
“Potato work, then,” he said, and I couldn’t help the slight smile that pulled at my lips.
“Yeah, potato work,” I agreed. “It’s…” I sighed. “It’s important, and I know that. It makes a difference to the people we’re helping. I just…”
“Hate it?” he suggested.
“Yeah.” I sighed. “Which makes me feel like a bad person. A bad shifter. Because I shouldn’t resent doing this—they’re helping me . And I’m helping people as I’m being helped. Which is all a good thing…”
“But you still hate it,” he said.
I groaned. “Yeah. Jesus, I’m awful.”
“You’re not awful, Seth,” he said, his voice gentle, but firm. “You’re a person . You have emotions, and those emotions are real whether or not you want to agree with them. We aren’t all going to like everything that’s good . There are things I like doing that are good—like Habitat for Humanity. There are also things that are good that I hate . Like canvassing during elections. That doesn’t make me a bad person, any more than not liking working at Hands and Paws makes you a bad person.”
I grunted.
“You’re a good man,” he told me.
“You don’t know that,” I argued.
“Sure, I do. You do help people. Your whole career has been about helping people.”
“But I can’t do that anymore,” I reminded him.
“Have you talked to Noah about the fact that you hate working with him?”
“Jesus, no, of course not.” I knew I sounded appalled.
“Why of course not? I thought you were close.” He sounded confused.
“We are,” I said, then felt my neck flush. “I mean. Maybe we used to be closer. Before—” I broke off, surprised.
“Before what?” Elliot asked.
“Before I got Arcana,” I breathed.
When he spoke again, I could hear the confusion limning the words. “Isn’t Noah also a wolf shifter?”
“Yeah. But… I can’t tell him I hate being what he is. And it’s not fair to him to demand all his attention, anyway. Or yours,” I put in, recognizing that I’d taken up a lot of his time with my whining.
“You can have as much of my time as you need,” Elliot replied. “And I’m sure Noah would say the same thing if you asked him.”
He probably wasn’t wrong. I grunted anyway, not wanting to admit he was most likely right .
“You know what? Go ask him. Right now,” he said.
“I can’t,” I told him.
“Why not?”
“Noah’s off on a three-week cruise with his flavor of the month.” That wasn’t really fair to Lulu, but I kind of resent Lulu.
“He’s off on a three-week cruise with some woman he’s known a month?”
“No. Lulu’s more like the flavor of the year. I just don’t like them.”
“Why don’t you like them?” I appreciated that he immediately corrected the pronoun.
I sighed. The other thing about Elliot—and this one was actually kind of annoying—was that he made you confront the truth about things, whether you wanted to or not. “Because I don’t like any of Noah’s flavors.”
“So you don’t like Lulu because they’re dating Noah and not for any other reason?”
I flopped dramatically back on my bed, not that Elliot could see that. “Yeah, pretty much.”
“That’s—” He paused.
“Stupid?” I finished.
“I was going to say ‘not productive,’” he countered.
“Noah deserves someone who will treat him like the prince he is,” I said, realizing, even as I said it, that it sounded excessive.
“And Lulu doesn’t?”
“I mean. I’ve only had occasional dinners and movie nights with them? One Easter? I try to stay out of the way when they’re here. They’re fine, I guess.”
“And who is paying for the cruise?”
I scowled. Damn Elliot for being right. “Lulu.”
“Seems pretty princely to me. ”
“You just want to burst all my bubbles,” I accused him.
“Only the irrational ones,” he replied. “You don’t want to turn into a bitter, wrinkled old man.”
I snorted. “Why not? Bitter and angry is more productive than being depressed.”
“I know it’s only a one letter difference, but being a Sith isn’t all it’s cracked up to be.”
It took me a second, but when I got it, it made me laugh. “Okay, Yoda, then solve my current employment problem.”
“I’m afraid, Luke, that you’re going to have to fix that one yourself. Although I hear the Shawano PD needs a few more CSI techs.”
I was silent for too long.
It was a joke. I knew that. Knew it on so many levels. And yet.
I wanted it not to be.
Noah used to spend more nights at Lulu’s than he did here, and I was pretty sure the only reason he still had his own place was because of me. He didn’t need my part of the rent—God knew he’d already been paying for this place without me for years—even if I felt obligated to pay it.
Yeah, okay, it was a little insane to even think about the idea that I could move halfway across the country to be closer to this guy I’d only known in person for two weeks, plus an extra three—so five total—of texting and talking on the phone. The whole idea was completely nuts.
And yet I was actually thinking about it.
For way too long.
What Elliot said next was even more insane.
“If you’re seriously thinking about that, you can stay with me.”