The crate of beers was next to Jobe so he picked one up, laid it on its side, and rolled it toward Brian. “You all packed?”
“Yup. Loaded my truck before the goodbye dinner.” He twisted off the bottle cap, emptied half the bottle, and set it down before trying once again to get the pillow, grunting as he wiggled his fingers, just short of his prize.
“You’re too far.” Jobe finished his own beer as he watched Brian’s attempt, mildly interested. “You won’t reach the pillow without getting up.”
“Yeah, I will.”
“Won’t.” Jobe would have gotten up to help but after the long day followed by their three-hour run, he was just as exhausted as Brian.
“What are you? Twelve?” Brian made a final effort and then plopped back down, panting as he lifted the bottle to his mouth again.
“What I am is right. Ten bucks says you’re too far to reach without getting off your ass.”
Brian wiped the back of his hand over his mouth, lolled his head to the side, and said, “Ten bucks?”
Arching his eyebrows, Jobe nodded.
With challenge in his eyes, Brian planted his feet on the floor and pushed himself toward the sofa, keeping his butt firmly connected to the floor. After their run, they’d grabbed the beer and then immediately sprawled on the floor, so neither of them was dressed and Brian’s naked skin squeaked against the clean hardwood.
“I hope you get a splinter,” Jobe said.
“Very mature.” When his shoulder connected with the bottom of the sofa, Brian looked Jobe straight in the eyes, reached one hand up, and tugged a pillow down. “You owe me ten bucks.” He smirked.
“Scoot your ass over to my wallet and get it yourself.”
Brian threw the pillow at him and Jobe caught it in one hand, stuffed it under his head, and said, “Thanks for the pillow.”
“Give it back.”
“Not a chance.”
“Screw you, man.” Brian climbed to his knees and retrieved another pillow before plopping down on the floor.
“You were up already. Why didn’t you just lie on the couch?”
“Didn’t think of it.”
“Four beers and your mental capacity’s already shot.”
“That’s my excuse. What’s yours?”
Chuckling, Jobe said, “I’m going to miss you.” Nobody else talked to him as freely as Brian. To his pack, he was their future Alpha, their hope. They revered Jobe too much to play with him. But Brian was an Alpha wolf through and through and no amount of admiration for Jobe or his family could curb Brian’s innate aversion to submission of any kind.
“I don’t have to go, Jobe.”
“You’re an Alpha. You need to lead a pack.”
There was no arguing with the truth of that statement so Brian raised his beer to his mouth and drank rather than speaking. After a few minutes, he sighed and said, “I wish it could have been this one.”
Only a Root could connect Red River’s land to its pack so they needed a Root to lead them. Jobe knew Brian’s words didn’t indicate a desire to unseat him from his destined role. “It can’t.”
“Are you sure? Maybe we’re—”
“I’m sure.” Jobe was too far from Brian to touch him, but he stretched his hand toward him anyway. “It’s for the best, Bry. You’re a born Alpha.” An Alpha of the traditional variety, unlike Jobe and the Red River Alphas. “Sharing the role isn’t in your nature.
There was no missing that Brian had gotten itchier as he’d grown older, the struggle of answering to other Alphas visibly grating on him despite his respect for the Roots.
“I could try.” He sounded almost desperate.
“It doesn’t work that way.” Which Brian knew full well. “Purple Sky is a good pack and they need a leader. When you get there, you’ll be so relieved to have your own pack, you won’t look back.”
Brian slid his fingertip around the now empty bottle. “I hope so. Nobody in my family has ever left Red River so part of me says moving away is wrong.”
“And the rest of you?” Jobe smiled gently, already knowing the answer to his question.
“The rest of me needs to lead,” he admitted.
Nodding, Jobe said, “You’ll be a great Alpha.”
“Yeah, I will.” Brian sighed. “Are you drinking the last beer?”
Jobe chuckled at the confidence bordering on arrogance. A character trait common in Alphas, youth, and drunks. He rolled the beer to Brian.
“I hope Mother Nature blesses me with a mate sooner rather than later.” Brian snagged the beer, set the cool bottle on his chest, and twirled it from side to side.
“You seem to take great pleasure in playing the field. Are you sure you’re ready for your mate?”
“How can anyone grow up seeing your parents together without wanting that for himself?” he asked incredulously. “I play the field because I haven’t scented a mate in Red River and you said we’re not—”
Not letting him finish his sentence, Jobe said, “I hope Mother Nature blesses you with a mate soon, Brian.” He took in a deep breath and smiled at his friend. “Who knows? Maybe there’s a perfect Omega waiting for you in Purple Sky.”