Chapter 22
The Road to Recovery
Roscoe breathed heavily, still in a food coma from repeatedly going back for leftovers. He and Austin kept turning the kitchen light on and off, and I dreaded what kind of mess I’d end up walking into.
Since my side of the bed was against the wall, and Roscoe had junk piled on the floor at the other end, I had to climb over him.
His gut protruded further than usual, but werewolf bodies burned a surprising amount of calories, even while doing absolutely nothing.
Which was fortunate, considering Roscoe would spend the majority of his days doing as little as possible if I let him.
When werewolves put on weight, muscles overcompensated to keep them somewhat fit. This resulted in a much higher metabolic rate, and instead of that rate rising or falling over months, the effect happened in hours.
That bit of useful knowledge was the result of my frequent descents into multiple rabbit holes of internet videos on werewolf physiology.
I was still disappointed by how little information there was about what we are.
Aside from that bizarre book I read at Darryl’s about our possible origins, there hadn’t been nearly enough research.
Or maybe there had been, but that thought led me deep into conspiracies.
Roscoe snorted as I straddled him for a moment. I wanted to stay like that, my naked body against his silky mane as I drifted back to sleep, but I couldn’t remain in bed all day.
I climbed off and slipped on a pair of shorts and a shirt.
It wasn’t unusual for me to go commando, especially since my dick had gotten thicker after going half-turn.
I couldn’t wear the comfy briefs I had when human, and boxers felt weird.
It was easier to just let it hang, which I admit often got me quite a bit of attention.
That ugly couch seemed to stink up the room worse than last night, which meant I hadn’t dreamt Roscoe’s romantic dumpster diving for our vintage movie date night.
He still enjoyed digging around in garbage for things he considered treasures, even though between the four of us, we had enough money to just buy things we needed.
In the hallway, Adam brushed by me before stomping into the bathroom.
“Good morning,” I said.
“Fuck off.”
The door closed and locked before the light flicked on, casting a wide beam across the floor from underneath.
I’d need at least two cups of coffee before dealing with him.
I might have screwed things up so much that a simple apology likely wouldn’t suffice this time.
Even though I understood why he was so easily irritable, our conversation yesterday shouldn’t have happened—at least, not the way it did.
The kitchen looked exactly how I expected.
Empty bags were strewn about, and paper plates full of chicken and rib bones just left there for the few lucky house flies that managed to find their way inside, but that wasn’t what really bothered me.
All the meticulous cleaning and extermination I’d done might as well have been for nothing—five roaches skittered about before disappearing between the stove and counter.
This was going to require four cups of coffee at the very least.
Whirring and banging rattled the divide between the dining room and Austin’s garage, and since the other side of the thin wall in the kitchen was the bathroom, I could hear every off-key note Adam belted while in the shower.
“Someone is gonna die today,” I muttered, filling the entire coffee pot with water before scooping triple the amount of cheap ground coffee into the filter. As that brewed, I set to work on cleaning the mess.
The kitchen sparkled as I sipped on my seventh cup, pretending to solve Goldbach’s conjecture in my head while getting to work scrubbing burnt food off the stove drip pans.
After I was done dusting and the sweeping in the living room, I got on all fours and cleaned the grout in the bathroom with an old toothbrush, all the while shaking like a heroin addict in withdrawal.
Roscoe crept into the doorway, before sitting on our oversized toilet with a loud groan.
“Gotta poop,” he said, holding open a two-decade old Reader’s Digest he brought in with him.
“At least wait for me to finish!” I threw the toothbrush into the sink then ran out of the bathroom, slamming the door behind me just in time.
I stepped back into the living room while Adam ate potato chips on the couch, him mindlessly scrolling through his phone. When he’d shove a handful into his mouth, smaller bits of chip would fall in between the cushions
“C’mon, man. I just cleaned this place.”
He glared up at me, then down at his sleeveless shirt before dusting the crumbs that had accumulated onto the floor.
“Missed a spot,” he muttered before scrolling again.
Not wanting to make things worse, I turned around and walked through the hallway toward the back door. Now wasn’t the time for a heartfelt apology, especially since all I could think about was choking him.
As I opened the door, Austin stood at the edge of the woods, staring at nothing in particular. His tail swayed gently, so I knew he was in a somewhat decent mood. My bare feet lightly padded over the frosty lawn until I was standing next to him.
“You okay?”
“Mmhmm,” he grunted, still staring straight ahead. I tried to get a sense of what he was looking at, but aside from a few birds, there wasn’t anything of note.
Turning back toward the house, I walked over to the cold fire pit and sat on one of the lawn chairs, my heart rate finally dropping to a steady, less concerning rhythm as the caffeine started to wear off.
Austin followed and took the seat next to me but didn’t say anything.
Instead, we listened to the calm wind whisper through all the trees.
“Ever feel like taking a walk in the woods?” he asked, finally breaking the silence.
“When Roscoe and I were out there, it was nice. I kinda thought about just staying there, but that notion faded quickly when I got poison oak all over my face.”
He smiled at that.
“Are you having those thoughts again?” I asked.
“They haven’t come back since that night.”
“I think that thing with Mosavi made everything worse.”
His ears stood straight. “I haven’t been able to stop thinking about it.”
“I’m sorry, Austin. I wish I could’ve stopped him.”
“Why? I liked it,” he said pensively.
“What?”
“I liked it,” he repeated, this time looking down at me. “I think about it all the time. I also like it when you boss me around. I dunno. It just feels right.”
The words in my head were an incomprehensible mess, and once again, I had no idea where to take the conversation.
“When I saw what you did to Roscoe last night, I got kinda jealous and fried his nips.”
“I guess I’m a little confused.”
“You can add that to the list of messed up shit about me.” He chortled and looked away.
“When I joined the marines, it did something to me. When sergeants would shout commands, it was a turn-on. I didn’t have to make the decisions or think too much.
All I had to do was follow orders.” He shifted and crossed one leg over his knee. “I wanted to be told what to do.”
“Dude, that stuff’s fine in the bedroom, but you can’t let people do that to you in real life. Is that why you neglect Adam?”
“He wants me to take control and make the decisions all the time. I can’t deal with it.
” The hackles on his neck stuck straight.
“When you told me to fuck him, that was hottest thing anyone’s ever done.
When I was… neutralizing the target, all I kept thinkin’ about was you on top of me, shouting in my ear.
Sometimes you’d lock me up, or I’d picture you beating the shit out of me while strapped to a St. Andrew’s cross. ”
“Dude—”
“I know,” he said, his expression returning to normal as he pulled nervously at his mane. “That’s why I’ve been thinking about paying the mayor a visit. I was gonna ask him when he was here, but I didn’t want to deal with Adam messing it up.”
“Don’t do that. That guy fucked you up pretty bad last time.”
Austin shook his head. “No one gets me, and Adam’s never gonna understand. That big-dicked piece of shit sitting in that office does though.”
“Just tell Adam what you want and stay away from Mosavi. I mean it. I’ll let you guys have that bag of weird sex shit, if you want it—if I can find where Roscoe hid it.”
“It’s not the same if you have to tell someone.
” He snorted and shook his head. “I used to get really rough with him, and I wanted him so pissed off that he’d do that stuff to me as revenge.
But all it did was make him more whiny. It’s why I haven’t been in the mood to do anything with him lately, but when you tell me what to do—” His ears folded backward.
“Maybe I really am more fucked up than I thought.”
“Austin, I’m not a shrink,” I said, placing my hand on his leg. “I haven’t exactly been patient or understanding with Adam either. He’s been in pain, and you should tell him what you want him to do. See how he responds. I’ll mediate if you want.”
“What do you mean, he’s in pain?”
“The whole shifting thing. I think he needs a lot more attention than I can give him.”
Austin’s eyes widened. “Aw, jeez,” he whispered. “I forgot about that.”
“About what?”
He jumped up from the chair and hurried back to the house, not responding. The door shut behind him, and I stared out into the woods. If anyone understood what Adam was going through, it would be another werewolf.
A bird let out a cackle high in one of the trees, but I couldn’t see what it looked like. I could only hear its creepy call, which echoed farther away. After a few minutes, more birds sang, their calls seeming to echo and reverberate through my head in a deafening chant.
“Cody. So sweet,” a soft, feminine voice whispered in my ear. “We would love to meet you.”