13. Trig

Chapter 13

Trig

"Fishing sounds like a plan," I said, pushing back my chair and standing up. The cabin was homey and wonderful, but I needed to keep myself busy if I had any hope of not worrying 24/7.

When Nate mentioned that he wanted to go to the river this afternoon, it morphed into a discussion about fishing. I sucked at it. My ability to stay still and be patient was nonexistent, but if I was spending time with my mates, it was sure to be the best afternoon ever.

"Let's check the back closet for poles. My grandpa used to keep them there, but that was many years ago." They could easily have been given away or tossed between then and now.

We walked together to the small storage closet off the bathroom. I think originally it was put there to be a linen closet, but my grandfather turned it into a "junk closet" where he put anything that didn't have a home.

Opening the door carefully, we were met with the familiar smell of wood and a hint of mildew, and a duffel bag cascading down on us. Had it been any other time, I probably would have made a joke about it and brushed it off. But today, it frightened me. So much did. Knowing there was someone out there who didn't think twice before offing a person was bad. Knowing he was looking for my mate was so much worse.

After some rummaging, we found two old fishing poles tucked away behind a stack of dusty board games and camping gear.

"Looks like tomorrow is closet clean-out." Nate took the duffel from me and set it on the floor. "I'm great at organizing."

We pulled one thing out after another until I found what we'd been looking for. "Score! The Spiderman one is mine." Or at least it had been when I was six. I thought I was the coolest kid in town. Justice disagreed. He had Superman who was far superior in every way, at least according to him.

They were a bit worse for wear but still serviceable.

"It's been ages since I used one of these." Garin took the Superman one and gave it a once-over.

"Yeah, me too," I admitted. "But it's like riding a bike, right?"

"I stink at that, so not sure how true that is." Nate pulled out a third fishing pole, this one my very first "big boy" pole, one that my uncle gave me for Christmas. It was great, but nowhere near as cool as my Spiderman one.

We gathered our gear and headed outside. Today was overcast, which was good. A hot sunny day wasn't ideal for fishing.

We stopped at an old mulch pile on our way to the river. We needed bait, and the only thing better than worms were refrigerator biscuits and we didn't have those. I'd probably look for some next time I was in town. I knew they were only worms, but I didn't like pushing a hook through any living creature.

We barely had to scratch the surface before we struck gold.

"Here's one," Nate said, holding up a wriggling worm. He grinned and added it to the small Tupperware we were using as a bait box. After a few more minutes of digging, we had enough to get started to go fishing for a week.

We walked down the familiar path to the riverbank, the sound of the flowing water growing louder as we approached. They'd come to love the river as much as I did. We came down here often for a nap in the sun. It had become one of my all-time favorite activities.

"I like this idea in theory, but looking at those worms, I don't think I can do it." Dear sweet Nate was such a compassionate soul.

"I got you." I reached out for his pole and set the bait for him.

"Ready?" I asked, and both my mates answered in the affirmative.

We cast our lines, watching as the ripples spread out across the water. My grandfather swore early-morning fishing was the only time to catch anything worth having. We'd missed that opportunity for the day. Late afternoon would have to do.

For a while, we sat in comfortable silence, the occasional chirp of birds and the rustle of leaves as an animal scurried past us. They might not have known my mates were shifters, but they could sense their beasts and stayed away.

The anticipation was far more powerful than my actual fishing.

"Remember the first time we went fishing?" Garin asked, breaking the silence.

I laughed. "How could I forget? You fell into the lake trying to reel in a fish that ended up being a piece of driftwood." It had been absolutely hilarious, even then.

"I caught our supper." Which ended up being the part of it I disliked the most. Eating fish at a restaurant was fine, but at home, where you had to cut it as it looked up at you with its dead little eyes… Hard pass.

"That you did. I bet our mate will best us in the fishing department."

"Hey, that's bear-ist." Nate stuck out his tongue, and a shiver of desire ran through me as I remembered how talented it was. "And no, I won't. Even my bear stinks at fishing. But if you want to find some berries? He's your beast."

After what felt like an eternity, I felt a tug on my line. "I think I've got something." Or it was snagged in between two rocks. That had happened far more times than I'd like to admit.

I began to reel in. As I pulled the line closer, we saw a tiny fish wriggling on the end of the hook. It was barely even a fish and looked more like something that belonged in a department store fish department than out here in the wild. I wasn't even sure how it managed to get snagged. The hook was bigger than the fish's face.

"Well, it's not exactly a trophy catch." I shrugged and did what my grandfather taught me, removed the hook with the least amount of harm possible, put him back into the water, and wished him well. "It's safe to say you shouldn't count on me to supply tonight's meal."

"Frozen pizza it is," Nate said. "And for dessert, I'm thinking two courses."

"Garin and me?"

He shook his head. "Yes and no."

My pants were tighter than ever. "Are you gonna keep us in suspense?"

"Only until after dinner."

I stood up from my spot. "Anyone else incredibly hungry all of a sudden?"