But so much was different.
He was different.
He’d found his mate, his reason for happiness. He’d made peace with his estranged red-maned wolf and reclaimed the life that had been stripped from him.
He hadn’t returned to the Marines, though he’d reconnected with his teammates. Instead, he and Mary built their own life together, in the small town of Lakefield where she taught math to disinterested middle school students. He took his talents with machinery to a civilian job operating big equipment, and found satisfaction in working for a modest construction company, running excavators and graders.
It was a life he could never have accepted without his time at Shifting Sands, time he had desperately needed to put his ten years of captivity in perspective.
Neal opened his eyes at the sound of unfamiliar footsteps.
A big man, nearly as broad at the shoulder as Neal himself, was approaching the picnic table, stride determined. He was wearing an elegant silk shirt, perfectly pressed khakis, and expensive shoes.
Neal stood up, already guessing who this must be. “You must be Conall,” Neal greeted him, remembering to look clearly in the other’s face as he extended his hand for a shake.
Conall was Gizelle’s mate, a famous classical musician who had built a small business empire in the wake of an accident that left him deaf. When Neal had first heard about him, he was deeply skeptical that such a man could in any way be a good match for Gizelle.
If Neal had been badly damaged by his years in a madman’s menagerie, he could only imagine how it had been for Gizelle, who had been there longer than anyone could remember. For months following their release, she had remained in her gazelle form, and when she had finally shifted to human, she had no memory of her time in her cage, and she continued to be timid and traumatized.
Neal looked at Conall with thoughtful evaluation. He had not believed that a disabled man could possibly be what Gizelle needed, but his friends assured him that Gizelle had blossomed with this man’s love, and was more calm and centered than anyone had ever imagined she could be.
Scarlet had kept him apprised of Gizelle’s status, but her emails were brisk and impersonal, much like she was. Graham and Breck, no surprise, had not proved to be good correspondents. There had been a lot to catch up on in person, and they had been quick to assure him that Gizelle was happy and well.
Neal had to take that on faith, as Gizelle had been avoiding him since his return to the resort.
“You’re Neal,” Conall replied, and Neal thought his gaze was as suspicious as Neal’s had been. “It’s good to meet you.”
His handshake was strong, his fingers calloused. He had fine clothing and a haughty tilt to his broad jaw.
They assessed each other for a long moment after they reclaimed their hands
“I’ve heard a lot about you,” Neal said, self-conscious about the shape of his mouth as he spoke; Conall had to lip-read his words without Gizelle to help him hear.
“I’ve heard a lot about you,” Conall echoed him with challenge. After a moment, he added, more gently, “Thank you.”
Neal was surprised. “For what?”
“For your part in the liberation of the zoo,” Conall explained. “For helping Gizelle feel safe again. She is very fond of you, and she missed you when you left.” He spoke grimly, matter-of-factly.
He might have been jealous, Neal thought, or protective. Either would be understandable. “I’d like to see her before we leave,” Neal said with a neutral nod. “If she wants to.”
“She does,” Conall said with a similar nod. “It just takes her a little while to work up to things sometimes.” He said it with warm patience that put Neal’s last reservations to rest. This was a man who understood Gizelle, who was willing to accommodate her quirks and love her for all her unique characteristics, not just in spite of them.
“Whenever she’s ready,” Neal agreed. “I... missed her, too.” The two of them had been the last of the zoo to leave the island; that alone would have given them a bond. The shy gazelle had been Neal’s real remaining tie to the resort, and he never would have left if it hadn’t been to follow his own mate to another life. He sometimes felt guilty for leaving Gizelle behind, knowing how hard her trust was to win and worrying that he had betrayed it with his departure.
Conall frowned at Neal’s mouth and then seemed to understand, giving a crisp nod.
It was tricky ground to navigate; admitting fondness for another man’s mate was not particularly straightforward, and it was burdened by social norms that simply didn’t apply. Neal had to trust that Conall would realize that their affection was platonic, as Mary did.
“So, ah, how are you liking Shifting Sands?” he asked, recognizing a place for small talk.
“Hard to complain,” Conall replied briefly. “Er, looking forward to your wedding?”
“I am,” Neal said, and it was true. There was something satisfying about the idea of standing up in front of their friends to make the bond that he and Mary had official. “It would mean a lot if you and Gizelle were there.” He was sure that Mary had distributed invitations, but it seemed polite to invite Conall in person since he was there.
Conall looked at him quizzically for long enough that Neal wondered if he would have to repeat himself, then nodded. “I think we will be there, but it’s always hard to predict.?
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