Joe put his hand under his chin, lifting his head until he could look him in the eyes. “I don’t know what’s happened to you. And I don’t know what you’ve been through, but an Alpha isn’t supposed to hurt his pack. An Alpha is supposed to protect them. To keep them safe and whole.”
“In my head,” Gavin said miserably. “Always in my head.” He screwed up his face. “I hear him. Always calling. I keep him here. I stay, he stays.” He let my hand go, pulling his face from Joe’s touch. “You go. Take Carter. Leave. Go far away.”
“And leave you here?”
Gavin nodded. “Yes.”
“What if I don’t want to do that?”
“Then you die,” Gavin snarled. He pushed Joe away. “All of you die. He’ll know. He’ll know you’re here. Magic. It can’t last forever. Not your pack. Not my Alpha. Don’t want this.” He glanced at me before looking away. “Don’t want any of this.”
It stung more than I expected it to. And I was tired. “Maybe you should shift back. It’s easier when you’re a wolf. At least then you act like you give a shit about me.”
“Carter,” Joe snapped.
“I don’t,” Gavin growled. “I’ve told you. Over and over. You don’t listen. You never listen.”
“Whatever, dude. All I’ve done is try to help you. I left my pack behind to go after your sorry ass and you pull this crap? Go, then. Go back to your fucking father. See how long you las
t. I don’t care anymore. You want us to leave you? Fine. We will.”
Kelly grabbed me by the arm, pulling me toward the door. “Outside,” he said. “Now.”
“Child,” Gavin spat at me. “Still a child. And don’t call me dude.”
“Oh, fuck you, man,” I said, trying to get Kelly to let me go. “I’m not a child. We’re probably the same goddamn age. You don’t know shit about me. You don’t know—”
Kelly shoved me through the door and out into the snow.
I RANTED.
I raved.
I paced back and forth, throwing my hands up in anger.
I said we should just go.
I said we should just leave him here.
I was tired. My back hurt. My leg hurt. My head hurt. I couldn’t focus. Kelly and Joe and Gordo were knots in my chest, and I couldn’t untangle them no matter how hard I tried. I wanted to shift. To run as far away as I could.
I wanted to forget Gavin existed.
I said, “And who the fuck does he think he is? That fucking asshole. Ungrateful. That’s what he is. He’s ungrateful. We took him in. We gave him a home. We—”
Kelly said, “Bambi had the baby.”
I stopped and closed my eyes. The air was cold and burned my nose when I inhaled.
“She got big, though please don’t tell her I ever said that.”
I laughed. It sounded like I was crying.
“End of August,” Kelly said. “She worked at the bar all the way up until her water broke. And even then she poured a few more beers before she called Rico to let him know. He wasn’t allowed at the bar those last few weeks. He would growl at anyone who got within a few feet of her, and she kicked him out. Told him to stay away or she’d beat his ass.”
I wiped my eyes. “She could do it too.”
“She could,” Kelly said. “She’s scary when she wants to be. She called Rico, and then one of her bartenders drove her to the hospital. And it happened fast, faster than I thought it would. Mom made Rico wear sunglasses, even when he was inside. He couldn’t figure out how to keep his eyes from staying orange. He told everyone he had light sensitivity. It was ridiculous. But then he came out, and he was smiling so wide. So bright. And when he spoke, he only said two words before he broke down.”