Six Months (6 page)

“Hey,” I said groggily, sliding my bare feet across the floor. “How long have you been here?”

“Ah, shit. Did I wake you, babe?” He set the book down and stood up, giving me a tight hug. “I got in about a half hour ago and holy hell, girl. You’ve been holding out on me,” he said, pointing at my new book.

“That’s book three.”

His brown eyes sparkled. “Good. That means I get to read it again.” He collapsed on the sofa, scrambling his fingers through his hair until it was sexy and all in his eyes. “First thing we’re doing tomorrow is getting you some food.” Trevor’s voice was borderline angry.

I bent down, picked up his leather shoes, and set them by the door. “I’ve been eating out a lot.”

“Don’t lie, April. That shit pisses me off. I know you’re not big on eating out because you have a thing about people putting boogers and spit in the food.”

“They do! I saw a show on it.”

He patted the space beside him and I sat down, curling up against him.

After a few quiet moments, I finally spoke. “It’s been so quiet around here. E-mails just aren’t the same. I miss our coffee-shop trips and our trashy-romance Sundays. Going to those garage sales in search of bad romance novels for a dime just isn’t the same. I missed you, Trevor.”

“Me too, babe. I don’t let go of a good friend that easily. If I moved to Alaska, I’d still be calling your ass. You’re like a ray of sunshine I’ve been missing all these months. Plus, nobody makes a tuna casserole like you do.”

I laughed and poked him in the chest. “You hate my tuna.”

We sat quietly and rain tapped on the roof like the impatient tapping of fingernails.

“It’ll get better,” he whispered. “Everything else going okay? Work?”

“Yep,” I lied. “Sometimes I just want to run out of this place.”

He sighed and held my hand, stroking his fingers over mine. “I can speak from experience when I tell you that running won’t get rid of your problems. They always catch up with you, and if you’ve spent your life running from them, you’ll be too damn tired to fight them off. Nobody’s going to help you in life, April. You’ve got to help yourself.”

“I just wish I had someone to take care of me.”

“Don’t be that girl, April.”

“What girl?”

“The one who needs a man to take care of her.”

I sat up. “Is that so wrong? I don’t want a man to make decisions
for
me, take away my freedom, and not allow me to work. Sometimes taking care of someone is loving them enough that you want to ease their pain and protect them. I care for these unwanted animals because they have no one to look out for them when they need it the most. Is it so wrong to love something that’s so far gone it can’t be saved?”

“You’re not a pigeon, April.”

I gave him my doe eyes; Trevor didn’t contradict me very often.

He wasn’t seeing my point.

“I’m not saying I’m weak, Trev. I’m just tired. Tired of living like this,” I said, waving my arm. “Tired of working my butt off and walking miles to and from work each day because I can’t afford a car. Do I complain about it? No, you’ve never once heard me complain about how unfair it is that some people get to live on easy street while others are struggling to make ends meet. But you know what? I’m tired of buying food at the dollar store, because the bread there sucks. I’m tired of seeing other girls my age going out every Friday because payday for them means dropping a hundred dollars on dinner and drinks while for me, it means clearing my debt and helping my sister. I’m tired of not having the things I deserve to have because that woman died and left me all her problems.” Tears streamed down my face. “I’m just so
tired
.”

Trevor wrapped his arms around my shoulders and whispered in my hair. “I’m so sorry, babe. I didn’t mean to make you cry. I get it. Shhh. I get it. It’s late and you’re exhausted. I just don’t want to see you give up so easily that the next guy who comes along thinks you belong to him. That he can push you around and walk all over you because he’s taking care of things. Remember shithead?”

He meant my ex who’d cheated on me.

“April,” he said, holding my face in his hands and wiping my tears away. “I don’t want you to think that you deserve that kind of love. I don’t want you to think it’s okay for a guy to fuck around or talk down to you because he’s paying your bills or letting you stay with him. You see where I’m going with this? If a guy loves you, he’ll buy you fucking Jamaica and walk away. He won’t hold that shit over you so you’ll—”

“I think our conversation train derailed,” I mumbled, sniffling as he looked at me and smiled. “That’s a little deep, Trevor. All I want is someone to take care of me for a change. It doesn’t have to be forever, just long enough for me to catch my breath. I’ve been doing good on my own, but I never wanted to grow up so fast. Even when my grandma was alive, I had to take care of the shopping and cooking. I’ve been more of a mother to Rose than a sister, and it shouldn’t be that way. I just want someone I can count on—a man who will turn the world upside down to help me find a slice of happiness because he loves me that much.”

“Damn, girl,” he said, wiping my tears with the pad of his thumb. “You should have been a romance writer. I’m not going to tell you Mr. Perfect is out there, because that’s a load of crap. But I will tell you that
I’m
here, and no matter what, I’m looking out for you. And tomorrow, we’re going to pick up some shit to make this place a joy to live in.”

I laughed hysterically and whipped the small pillow out from behind me. “What’s the matter, you don’t like the embroidered pillows?”

“For kindling on the barbecue grill? You bet. Otherwise, I don’t want your granny’s fart pillow beneath my chiseled face and lips of a Greek god.”

“You must have left off on chapter six,” I said, glancing at the paperback.

He snatched it off the table and thumbed it open. “Yep. And I’m reading it again, so go back to bed and leave Vexton and me alone.”

“Well, well. If it isn’t Reno,” Denver said in a disgusted tone.
He was stretched out on the sofa wearing only a pair of loose sweats and eating a bowl of macaroni. “Been looking for you. Must be nice to ditch your pack without a word and not feel a shred of guilt.”

Reno scratched his chin indifferently. Denver was a cool cat, but young (by at least a hundred years), so he could be a bigger prick than a cactus. Reno perked up his ears but didn’t hear any activity. They lived in a massive two-story house that had been a hotel over a century ago. Now it was the official homestead of the Weston pack.

“Where is everyone?” Reno asked.

“Bowling. It’s Shifter night at the alley and drinks are free for women.” Denver rolled his eyes. “You better have my back when I bring up laser tag, because that new place kicks ass and we’re all going. Period.”

Shifters were one of many paranormals living in secret in the human world. Each Breed had their own culture and laws, but Shifters were a tight-knit group. Once considered lower-class citizens, they’d been sold into slavery, kept as servants, and the wolves in particular had been chained around the neck and made into guard dogs.

Shifters came in all types, but Reno and his brothers were wolves. They lived together in a pack run by their youngest, Austin. Only an alpha could act as a Packmaster—the leader of a pack. Not all couples will have an alpha child, but when they do, it’s almost always the firstborn male. Somehow that gene skipped Reno and landed right on their baby brother. It hadn’t been easy for Reno to watch the kid grow up, knowing someday he’d outrank him, but Austin was a born leader and Reno respected rules. Austin led the Weston pack alongside his life mate, Lexi. She’d recently discovered she was a Shifter after having gone through the change in her late twenties. Austin thought it had been delayed because she’d lived with humans her entire life. It’s a damn good thing the pack had taken her in when they did, because female Shifters gave off a strong vibe that made human men turn stupid around them. Lexi’s human mother and sister had also moved into the Weston house. They were like family to Austin, and it didn’t take long before the rest of the boys felt the same way. Packs had strong bonding instincts, and anyone brought into the family was one of their own, regardless of Breed.

“What happened to your arm, bro?”

Reno glanced at his left arm that he’d bandaged up. “My wolf got tangled up in some shit, I guess.”

What exactly that was, Reno didn’t know. When a Shifter changed into their animal form, most could only remember the first few minutes, but nothing after that. Many alphas could remember it all, but that had to do with their power. The last thing Reno remembered was running into the woods.

“You don’t know what happened?” Denver asked skeptically.

“Went for a run—the usual. My wolf knows the rules about going into the city and I woke up by my bike. How long has it been?”

“Two and a half days. Something must have gone down for your wolf to not want to shift back, because he’s an obedient mofo.” Denver set the bowl on the coffee table of their living room and slipped his feet into a pair of black flip-flops. “Maizy’s staying with Lexi’s friend for the night—her hot neighbor with the round ass. Want a beer?”

“Why not,” Reno muttered. “Grab me one and I’ll be right back.”

Reno headed upstairs and down the hall to the last room on the left. It was in pristine condition, just as he’d left it. He peeled off his shirt and stood in front of the mirror on his right, staring at his body. He had acquired a few scars, and each told a story. Shifters lived an extended lifespan of several hundred years, and they could heal through shifting. But his wolf had been injured too long this time and the mark on his arm would become a scar. It was sore all the way through, as if he’d been stabbed with a blunt object.

He peeled the bandage down, examining the wound. The skin had sealed up and turned pink. He couldn’t remember a damn thing about how he got it either. He rubbed his heavy stubble, in dire need of a shave. Reno was a man who took grooming seriously. He preferred long sleeves in public to keep his wolf in check. Something about the tight fabric worked like a fence against his skin. Reno also kept a gun strapped to him most of the time and drove a Triumph Bonneville because fuck it, the bike was a classic.

Something felt amiss.

Reno sat on the edge of the bed and rubbed his face as a knot formed in his stomach. Shifters had to let their animal out regularly, and most of them did it on a weekly basis, if not more. That’s why owning private land was important, and Austin had secured enough acreage to broaden their territory. Sometimes they all ran together, but Reno had always been a lone wolf. He wrung his strong hands, trying to figure out why his wolf had been breaking his pattern and getting too close to humans. It didn’t make sense.

Reno felt an impulsive urge to return to town, but for what? It was a fierce calling, as if he’d left something behind or unfinished.

After a hot shower, Reno skipped shaving and went downstairs to join Denver for a beer. His hair was still wet and he ran his hands through it a few times to shake out the water.

Denver was lounging in his favorite rocker on the front porch and had his feet on the wooden railing. The sun stretched across the grassy field in front of them, the clouds finally breaking up. “Damn, I love it out here,” he said.

Reno sat in a chair and sipped his ice-cold beer, sharing silent agreement. He stretched out his legs and crossed one biker boot over the other.

“Do you think Austin will recruit anyone new in this century?” Reno asked. A pack was often defined by strength in numbers, and lately a few assholes had dubbed them
The Six-Pack
.

Denver belched and set his bottle on the arm of the chair. “Can’t say. He’s young and probably thinks he should take his merry time.”

Reno snorted. “
You’re
young.”

“I’m fifteen years older than him and a hell of a lot more mature.”

“Says the guy who wears cartoon shirts.”

“Maturity is based on the decisions you make, not what’s in your damn closet.”

“That’s debatable,” Reno muttered, watching a hawk fly overhead.

“Get off my back. I like my style and if I want to be two hundred and wearing a Donald Duck shirt, then you’re just gonna have to live with it.”

Shifters physically aged slower than humans did, and they all ran at different speeds. Reno looked like a seasoned man of thirty-five, even though in years he exceeded that by a century. As the alpha, Austin naturally had gained a formidable appearance early on and would likely retain it for a while.

“There are still just six of us. Ten if you count the girls, and only Ivy and Lexi are Shifters,” Reno pointed out. Ivy was the new blood in the pack, recently traded over by her father. It wasn’t common for a woman to come into a pack unmated to a male, so they treated her as a sister to prevent any friction.

“Well, there are too many rogues around here I wouldn’t trust,” Denver said. “Some of the larger packs might want to trade over, but they like to pass off their problem children like hot potatoes. Funny how humans have no idea how many of us there are living around here.”

True.

Shifters couldn’t smell one another, but sometimes they could pick up on Breed energy if they got close enough. Not always, but it helped since alphas didn’t have any tells like unique eye colors. The Packmasters usually got tattoos and made their identities known, so they were always easy to spot. Being an alpha was one thing, but a Packmaster held an important rank, and a hierarchy existed among their kind. There was even a pecking order among Packmasters.

“We should keep a close eye for candidates when going out,” Reno said. “Maybe drop a suggestion in Austin’s ear.”

It’s why clubs and bars often had a Shifters’ night. They needed to congregate and socialize, not only to build alliances with other packs, but also to scope out potentials for their own family. Sometimes friction existed in the packs with too many dominant males and that got resolved by a little pack trading.

“How’s your arm? Did you shift again?”

“Yeah,” Reno said, rubbing at it. The wound had been itching for the last two hours. “I did a quick shift in the bathroom, but that’s as much as it’s going to heal. It’s just sore as hell.”

Denver examined the scar and then sat back, touching the one on his forehead. “Well, if your wolf didn’t shift back for two days, it must have been for good reason.”

Damn, now Reno was thinking about it again. He took a slow sip from his beer bottle and had a strange feeling come over him. An alarming tingle raced up his spine and made the hair on the back of his neck stand up.

He fished his hand in his pocket and twirled a small object between his fingers. “I’m heading back into town.”

“The fuck you are,” Denver retorted.

Reno stood up and stretched his stiff back. “Tag along if you want, but I can’t sit around here. My wolf was out for too long and now I’m restless; you know that feeling. I need to walk it out of my system.”

“We could meet up and bowl with the guys.”

“I don’t bowl.”

Denver rocked with laughter and raised his beer in a toast. “Oh yeah, I forgot. The only balls you play with are your own.”

***

“Trevor, I can’t afford that. Put it back!” I laughed as he stood at the end of the grocery aisle, holding a steak like one of those game-show models.

“It’s on me,” he said, tossing it into the cart.

“And where are you getting this newfound money, Daddy Warbucks?”

A slender girl in a pair of white jeans sauntered by Trevor and batted her long lashes. I peered over my shoulder as we passed her.

“She’s looking at my ass, isn’t she?” Trevor muttered.

“Can you blame her? Now, back to the money.”

“I’ve got a little tucked away. The ex took care of all the bills,” he said with disdain. “I had a part-time job, so I made enough to stash a few dollars in my piggy bank.”

So
that’s
why he’d reacted to my comment about being taken care of. Trevor hadn’t hashed out the details of their separation, but maybe his ex had held that over his head and made him feel inferior.

“Well, just don’t spend it all on food. You need to tuck it away for your future, not expensive cuts of meat.”

“And that’s exactly why someday you’re going to be one of those rich old ladies with a million dollars stashed in the freezer. Most of us are impulse shoppers. We see it and got to have it.” Trevor lifted a pack of tuna and glanced at the label, privately chuckling as he put it back on the shelf. “You can tell a lot about a person who fills their cabinets with
that
shit.”

“What do you mean?”

“Nothing,” he murmured, resting his elbows on the shopping cart handle. “Who’s this party for?”

“You remember Lexi, my boss? Well, she just moved in with this guy
and
all his brothers, I guess.”

“Sounds cozy.”

We slowly walked down the aisle, Trevor leaning on the cart. “She’s pretty serious about Austin and I wouldn’t be surprised if he popped the question on her. They’re having a housewarming party.”

“Should we bring a gift?”

Crap, I hadn’t thought about that
. “Maybe a bottle of wine? I know Lexi loves red wine.”

“Go pick out a cheap bottle and I’ll get the rest of the stuff,” he said. “You talked some sense into me and I’m putting the steak back. We’re having Trevor Taco Delight for dinner.” Trevor swaggered off in his signature denim and button-up shirt ensemble. He never tucked in his shirts, so it made him look casual and put together at the same time.

It was so wonderful having him around again. Trevor could be a little odd at times, but I loved him unconditionally. He often started up fights with other guys over petty things, and sometimes the verbal exchanges between them were weird and made no sense. In fact,
news flash
—men in general made no sense to me.

I hurried down the aisle and made my way to the back of the store where the cheap bottles were lined up on the shelves.

Guilt weighed heavily on my conscience from pinching the money out of the company account, and I’d come to a decision. It wasn’t worth the risk. Maybe I’d get away with it, but I’d never be able to live with myself. The best way to handle it was to take out a loan from Maddox and immediately deposit all the money I’d stolen back into the business account. After I took care of Sanchez, that is. I didn’t want to owe anything to that finger-chomping maniac.