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Chapter 1

Theo

"I don't know why you do this to yourself, Theo." At least my best friend decided to wait until I'm into the final set of deadlifts before starting in on me this time.

"You don't have to understand it; you just have to not bitch at me about it, Wes. I'm sick of doing this every fucking week." I drop the bar laden with weights, letting it bounce a bit before stopping it with a press of my hands. I'm usually much more respectful of our building's equipment, but I've reached my boiling point.

Wes just heaves a sigh and shakes his head. I understand his frustration, but I can't dwell on it. My mom has a couple weeks left, tops. I feel like I have to make these visits every few days to make up for ghosting her for the last seven years; it"s not like the cancer forcing her onto her deathbed has actually erased all the awful shit she put me through when I was younger . . . but none of it matters anymore. I"m trying to come to terms with shit for myself, not just for her.

There might be a sliver of me that hopes she has changed her mind about me over the last few years and that maybe if I had come around sooner, I would have gotten the absolution I have always needed. I know that's not how this works. I've seen time and time again that I will never come first for her, so why do I insist on putting her first now?

The last time I saw my mom before all this, I was seventeen, only a few months before my eighteenth birthday. Her latest boyfriend, Greg, had taken exception to my "attitude" when I spazzed about not being able to find my insulin. We all knew she had taken the money given to her for my prescription and bought either whiskey or cocaine instead, but he had left me a bloody mess in the living room for questioning them about it . . . all while my mom complained that she couldn't hear her shows over our "roughhousing."

I stayed where they had left me until after the door slammed as they went to get more beer, not wanting to push Greg any further by reminding him I was still alive despite both their efforts. I could move without throwing up, but barely. I dragged myself out of our nice middle-class suburban home and hobbled my ass down the block to Wes's house. The walk I had made no less than a thousand times since second grade and normally only took a minute had taken me close to twenty that day.

Instinctively, I had known my best chance at surviving to graduation was to seek sanctuary with the Walkers. They had always treated me like one of their own, repeatedly reminding me their door was always open. I honestly didn't know if the adults knew much about my home life at the time, though they hinted a few times that their house could be my safe place, so maybe. I doubt Wes would have told them anything since I'd sworn him to secrecy a million times, and he would always pinky swear to not tell anyone anything.

To this day I grin because, no, he had never told a soul. He didn"t have to. While I poured out my heart to him on his back deck when life at home inevitably got to be too much, his brothers could hear every single thing I said. When I was younger, it always amazed me how much better I felt after I vented to Wes, and when I returned home, it seemed easier to be there, at least for a little while. I found out after I started living with the Walkers that the older boys would usually pay my mom's flavor of the month a visit after I broke down, which normally encouraged them enough to skip town. Only Greg's stubborn ass had stuck around after a visit from the Walker boys.

When I collapsed on their front porch on D-Day, I thought I would have to lie out there for hours before someone would find me. Imagine my surprise when just seconds after I thudded atop the dark walnut boards, the Walkers' crimson front door quickly swung open, wreath banging against the surface with the force. I only had enough energy to open a single eye and reach for Tom before my arm gave up and my hand fell uselessly back to the boards. I could have sworn I heard a set of rumbling growls, causing me to try to pry my good eye open again, but darkness swamped me anyway.

I shake my head to refocus on the present. I stare at Wes, taking in his frame and stance. He has a natural grace that I can only attribute to shifters. I still sometimes struggle with the knowledge that my best friend, and everyone in the family other than my puny human ass, is a mountain lion. I call them cougars instead of mountain lions because while they"re the same thing, calling his—our—parents and brothers cougars while waggling my eyebrows gives me endless entertainment. I"ve seen their animals enough over the years that I"m almost immune to giant cats barreling toward me, but it took quite some time to understand that the breathtaking animals are not actually going for my throat; they probably just want to cuddle.

They didn"t share their big secret right away. I was with them for months before I even caught on that something was off. Random things that alone could be explained away but that all together looked suspicious as hell. By the time Christmas rolled around and Tom suggested they take me on a walk through the woods, I had been convinced they were part of organized crime and maybe were getting rid of me. When I told Wes of my now-debunked theory later that night, he laughed until he cried, agreeing that the way they talked about pack traditions was weird if you weren't in the know. It had taken them so long to clue me in because they'd had to wait. Sharing your animal form and outing the whole "paranormals exist" thing to a human was a huge fucking deal. To the point that the Walkers had had to get written approval from their alpha, and I"m sure there were background checks and shit before they did so.

"Do you want me to come with you?" Wes asks. He would do it, too, but I don"t want the extra stress.

I chuckle. "Nah. I won't stay long, maybe twenty minutes. Besides, you have a pride run tonight, right? Full moon and all that?" I tease. The moon has no effect on them, but the new alpha, Sebastian, apparently has a sense of humor, because he actually changed the run schedule to match the full moon cycle.

He rolls his eyes and nudges my shoulder. "You should come out to pride lands after you visit Susan. Alpha Westwood has asked to meet you at least a dozen times, anyway, and there's always a ton of food. Come on, you haven't been to a run or any other pride event in years. Hell, the last time you were there, we were called a pack, not a pride, Theodore. My parents will start to think you're ashamed of us."

I huff at him, protesting his use of my full name, before acquiescing. I'd wanted to hem and haw to tease him but ended up giving in too quickly to pull it off because he was right. Dammit.

I shoot the shit with Wes until I'm done with my workout. He still has tons left in his routine, but I stopped trying to keep up with him in college; he goes hard for hours while I just keep a routine to stay healthy.

After a quick shower I head straight to my beat-up sedan while gnawing on a low-sugar granola bar to keep my monitor from sassing me. I would have stopped at home for a real snack, but I know if I enter my apartment, I won't leave again tonight, and I have plans I can't flake out on. My bio mom may not notice if I don't show up, but Wes and his family sure will. Besides, it is always a good time on pack—fuck, no, it"s pride—lands now. Watching the different types of shifters get together and interact never fails to cheer me up, and I need all the happiness I can get right now.

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