7. Brett

Chapter 7

Brett

The sun had just begun to peek over the horizon, casting a warm golden light across my backyard. I'd been up since dawn, my hands already smudged with dirt and streaked with paint. One frustrating thing about my job was the way my body needed to adjust to different sleep schedules. Spoiler alert: it didn't.

The flower boxes out back needed a fresh coat of paint. They were chipped and faded from neglect, sun, and wind, but they had potential. I'd had fun picking out the colors at the hardware store; the current color trends were exactly in tune with this place. At least something was going right.

I dipped my brush into the can of pink paint and started on the first box. I'd originally planned to sand it—make it perfect. But then I realized, this place didn't embrace perfect, it embraced natural, and the unevenness was only going to make it that much more beautiful. Instead, I washed them yesterday, letting them dry in the sun.

I was hardly a painter, but I kept my movements steady and methodical, and so far, it was working well. This was the kind of work that didn't require much thought, allowing my mind to wander, which probably made it a bad choice for my day off, but so be it. At least when I was out here, nature surrounded me, giving me a sense of belonging. That was something.

My hand cramped, and I took a moment to take a break. I glanced over at the raised garden bed a few feet away. It was in worse shape than I'd thought when I first moved in. The previous occupant hadn't taken care of it at all—overgrown weeds choked the few struggling plants that remained, and the soil looked depleted and in need of fertilizer and possibly some peat. It would take some serious effort to get it back into decent shape, but I was up for the challenge. There was something rewarding about bringing a plot of earth back to vitality.

As I painted, a small movement caught my eye in the weeds. A chipmunk darted around near the garden bed, its tiny paws moving quickly as it searched for food. It wasn't scared of me. They never were, not even in my human form. If anything, the cuties were drawn to me.

I couldn't help but smile at the little creature. It had been hanging around a lot lately, as if it were curious about what I was doing and wanting to make friends. I was up for making friends. Goodness knew I could use one.

"Hey there, little guy," I said softly. "You here to supervise and make sure I get the job done right?"

The chipmunk twitched its nose and looked at me, as if considering my words. For half a second I thought he might come over, but he stayed where he was, watching me intently. I chuckled and went back to painting. It was nice having a companion—even if it was just a tiny one who never took human form.

"I bet you don't have to worry about finding a mate, do you? You just go out there, do your little chipmunk thing, and before you know it, you've got a whole family."

That probably wasn't true. It wasn't going to be the same as it was for shifters, but in their own way, they'd have one. At least I thought they did. Not all of nature was that way, and yes, I was side-eyeing the praying mantises of the world.

I dipped the brush back into the paint and continued my work. "Me, though? I've been searching, waiting, and I keep missing him by hours, sometimes minutes. It's frustrating, you know?"

The chipmunk came a little closer, as if he was listening intently. I liked to think he was, anyway.

"I've got this vision, you know?" I continued. "We'll finally meet, and everything will just fall into place, and in thirty years we'll laugh about all of this." Not that I could see any humor in it now. "I keep telling myself to be patient, but it's hard when I feel like I'm so close. I mean, I can almost scent him sometimes, but then… nothing. Just a trace left behind."

This poor little chipmunk needed to charge me for his time at the rate I was going.

I sighed, leaning back on my heels to admire my work. The first flower box was done, looking much better with its fresh coat of paint. Once it was dry, I'd know for sure if I needed to go back and touch it up, but it didn't need to be perfect. I cleaned my brush, and instead of starting on the next box, I went over to the garden bed.

"Guess it's time to tackle this mess, huh?" I said, glancing at the chipmunk who was still there. "What do you think? You gonna stick around and keep me company?"

The chipmunk scampered up onto a rock nearby, watching as I knelt down and began pulling at the stubborn weeds. This wasn't a season of neglect, it was years. The soil was dry and hard, clinging to the roots like it didn't want to let go. It didn't help that the roots were so intertwined.

It was slow work, but I didn't mind. There was something satisfying about getting my hands dirty, about helping something near death come back to life.

As I worked, I kept talking, my voice low and steady, more for myself than anything. "I just want what my parents had, you know? They found each other, and that was it. They were together through everything. I want that too." It hadn't always been easy for them, especially after they took me in, but they loved each other completely and that was everything.

The chipmunk tilted its head, its small eyes bright with curiosity.

"I'm going to call you Pixie." If they were going to be my new bestie, they needed a name. "It suits you."

I went back to work, the time ticking away. I pulled out another handful of weeds, tossing them into a growing pile beside me. The raised garden bed was going to take time, just like everything else in my life. But with each weed I pulled, with each inch of soil I turned, it was getting there. Right now, everything was being choked out, except for the ants. They seemed to be having a grand old time.

The wind shifted, and for a split second, I thought I scented my mate. It wasn't the first, nor would it be the last time. It was getting ridiculous. At least some of the times I caught his scent it was real—old but present. It told me he lived locally, and that gave me so much hope.

Everywhere I went, I was starting to scent him, and it was always faded, always like I'd missed him by hours, possibly minutes. It was just getting to be too much.

Today was my day off, and the first one where I actually had an evening free. After I showered from my gardening, I decided to check out the restaurant I'd been eyeing. It didn't have hours conducive to my work schedule, making today the perfect time. Even if I hadn't wanted to check it out, to see if maybe—just maybe—he went there, it was the type of place I'd want to explore.

I'd been trying to hold on to my parents' words, to understand that it was gonna work out and I just needed to wait. But I sucked at being patient, and besides, I was hungry. So this wasn't the same as pushing fate, right? It would be more like killing two birds with one stone.

Not sure what the dress code might be, I opted to go with business casual. This wasn't the city where you might run into a place that demanded jackets or ties, but still, I wanted to be respectful.

I walked in and was greeted by a woman who immediately asked if I had a reservation. I didn't, of course. But the second I stepped in that room, I knew that wasn't going to hinder me. This was the place I needed to be.

Shifters were everywhere, which was great. But also… underneath all of that, I could scent my mate. And it was in different layers of the scent, like he'd been here more than once. All this time, there was a location I could've come to—one that he frequented or maybe worked at, and my stupid work schedule had prevented it.

Well played, fate. Well played.

It was hard to tell with all the food aromas dancing around how long since he was last here, but this was definitely where I was going to find him. I could feel it.

"Reservation?" I asked, buying myself time to figure out what to say. And because it was my day to be awkward, I came out with, "I think I'm meeting someone here."

She looked at me like I had five heads. "You think? Is this one of those dating app scenarios? Because, uh, they usually don't show," she whispered the last part. "I can seat you, but maybe don't order until they do, or order like you're here alone, and if they show up, yay."

She was coming from a kind place, and I took it as such.

"No, it's not a dating app. I was hoping I could talk to a manager or something?"

Just then, a group of about eight people all came in, all of them scenting human, which was very unhelpful. A middle-aged man came up to her and started demanding attention. Apparently, his party was very important and needed all of her focus. Jerks.

I gave her a half wave, and she indicated a guy standing in the back. I'd have thanked her, but the guy was becoming louder. May they be sold out of what he wanted and his friends spill their red wine on him. Not really, because you get back what you put out there, but for the fleeting moment it passed through my mind, it made me smile.

On my way to the manager at the back, I scented deeply as I passed every table, trying not to look too obvious. And when I walked up to him, the man was a shifter—thank gods. It was going to make this whole thing so much easier.

"Hey, I'm looking for someone and she said you might be able to help me find them," I said.

He leaned in, and I knew he was scenting me too. "Unicorn," I mouthed, and dawning realization crossed his face. "I'm Kyle. Who can I help you find?"

"I don't know if he works here or if he's a regular, or?—"

"I think you're gonna have to start at the beginning."

And so I did, and as I told the story, he started to smile wider and wider. I'd come to the right place. I was sure of it. I was finally going to meet my mate. Maybe it wasn't going to be today, but soon. And this man, this Kyle, he was going to be the one to help me.