14. Jeffrey

I almost hit Mutt with my car. It was an accident—and to be fair, it was dark as fuck out by the time I pulled onto the street to head home from Blair's half-finished restaurant. I'd gone over to help them set up after my shift at the magic shop had ended, and I was still reeling from the conversation I'd overheard at the end of the night.

"Do you think it worked?" Blair had said, voice low. He and Richard had been in the back room unpacking some of the boxes that had arrived.

"I think so," Richard replied, rustling around like he'd just cut through tape. "He seems happier."

"My therapist says it might help, you know. To give him something to do." Blair's voice was quiet, muted, like all the life had been sucked out of it and replaced with anxiety. "I mean…this is weird for him."

"It's weird for everyone."

"But him especially." More rustling.

Weird was officially becoming my least favorite word.

I held my breath, holding incredibly still. It was a wonder Richard hadn't said anything about me still being here. I'd always just assumed vampires could hear heartbeats like wolves could. But maybe their senses were more muted?

Still, I should go.

I knew I should go.

Because I had a feeling I knew who they were talking about—and that this conversation was not for me.

"You know…I walked in on him—uh." Blair's voice grew even quieter. Difficult to hear. It was a wonder I could eavesdrop at all. "I dunno. It was his first week in town? When he was still job hunting. And he didn't see me—and he was just…he was just?—"

"What?"

"He was shaking, and curled up in this awful little ball and he looked like total dogshit. Like he was crying—" I could remember that day with sickening clarity. I'd just finished applying to Avery's shop. It'd been the first night I felt like I was being watched, and the walls had closed in on me, Elmwood too small—too much—too familiar. I felt like a ghost here, surrounded by people who knew me but didn't, by places that had been home once but weren't.

It'd felt like I was dying. I couldn't get a single breath in. Everything was too bright, too loud, too much. No tears had been shed but it felt like they needed to. Like even my eyes were broken, and my goddamn body was betraying me.

I couldn't breathe, couldn't?—

I'd been tempted to call Blair for help, but…hadn't known how.

Hadn't known how to be this much of a mess when he was around.

Hadn't wanted to show him my cracks.

Apparently he'd seen them anyway. Which was something I'd suspected, if his thinly veiled questions about therapy were anything to go by. I just…I guess it hadn't occurred to me that he'd actually seen me mid-panic attack.

"I was just trying to check in on him, you know? And I should've gone in there…but I—" Blair's voice was hollow. "I didn't know what to do. Because I'd never seen him do that. And I got the feeling he wouldn't want me there, not while he was hurting."

He was right.

It was why I hadn't ended up calling him.

I wouldn't have wanted that.

And I hated that he knew that.

I hated that he knew me well enough that he understood as much as I loved him—and I did, more than anything—sometimes looking at him reminded me of the worst times of my life. He was a walking trigger, sending me spinning and quaking, like a colt on new, wobbly legs.

"He does better when he feels important, you know?" Blair's voice was gruff.

"I'm not sure lying about the chairs was the best way to go about that," Richard said gently. "I get what you were trying to do—and I'm proud of you for that. But…" Richard had always been a serious kid. He'd been grown up before he even knew how to walk. Intelligent. Type A. Bad with people—except for Blair, apparently. "Maybe moving forward we'd be better off not lying."

Lying.

"I know," Blair sighed. "But you—I mean. Did you see his face? He looked so happy when he was bringing the chairs in yesterday."

"Sure," Richard agreed gently. "But how many deliveries can you cancel like that, Blair, before he finds out? There's gotta be a limit. Maybe some honesty would help him more than trying to trick him into feeling useful."

"I don't know how to be honest with him," Blair's voice wavered. "He just smiles, and lies—and—and he never fucking breaks. He's like a puppet person. Which is so fucking shitty, because you'd think out of everyone in the world, I'd be the one to understand. I was there. I was there the whole fucking time. It was always us against the world—and now it feels like him against me, and I don't know how to fix it."

"I know, baby." There was more rustling, this time less boxes—and more clothing. I could so easily imagine my giant blond brother pulling Blair into his lap. The two of them were inseparable. And…good for each other. They were happy.

It was part of why I felt so…lost.

Blair didn't need me anymore. Not really.

And I didn't know how to exist with him without Lydia hanging over us. She'd always been our shared demon. And now she was gone, and I was just me. There were no tasks for me to accomplish, and the lies I kept from Blair to protect him didn't feel noble anymore. They just felt like lies.

And that…hurt.

That hurt, and I didn't know what to do.

I felt betrayed, I could admit that. Betrayed by him, and the fact he was happy. The fact he moved on so easily and I couldn't. Betrayed because he didn't need me like I needed him. Betrayed because he'd lied to me.

He'd tricked me.

And I knew it was because he loved me—because he wanted to help, but I hated that he thought I was too weak to take the truth, even though I was. He was supposed to think the world of me. He was the only person who ever had.

"Maybe he can't open up to you because you were there," Richard added, voice low and rough. "Maybe he needs…space from what happened."

"I don't want to give him space."

"And that's because you're…" Richard struggled for words. "You're a good brother."

"Right."

"But if you want to be there for him," Richard said softly. "Maybe he needs to come to you. And maybe don't?—"

"Lie." Blair sighed.

Richard was quiet, like he didn't know what to say.

And it hurt.

It hurt so much that both of them thought I was falling apart—even though I was.

That they'd apparently orchestrated this entire thing so that I would feel useful.

Which was why I was distracted as I drove. Why I was shaking, and sick, and my vision was blurry even though tears refused to fall. I'd gotten the fuck out of there, as quietly as I could—escaping to my truck and onto the street with my heart pounding and a sick churning in my stomach.

"Oh my fuck." I slammed on the breaks, the car swerving a little and hitting the curb as I sucked in a panicked breath, and Mutt's familiar broad frame popped into view. He crossed to the side of the car, face pressed right up against the glass of my window.

That shit was diabolical. I couldn't believe Collin had done this to Richard on purpose.

"Jeffrey!" he yelled in excitement. His blue eyes were bright, and I didn't need to see it to know his tail was wagging.

I rolled the window down, and then jolted when Mutt reached inside and immediately yanked me close enough he could push his face into my neck. He snuffled happily, his hot breath tickling my throat as he inhaled my scent greedily.

"Mmm," he sighed, teeth nicking my skin as he opened his mouth and gave my throat a single, sharp suck, before pulling back. "You are distressed ," he frowned, brow furrowing, like my distress was ruining his whole-ass day. I was surprised it had taken him this long to figure that out—considering the fact that usually he read me like a book.

Apparently he was distracted too.

"I'm fine," I lied.

"Lie," he called me out immediately, though his expression softened. "May I come into your metal box now?"

"The truck?" I snorted, "Yeah, man. No one's stopping you."

Mutt bobbed his head, obviously still distracted as he zoomed around the car again—far faster than any human would be able to. He pulled the passenger-side door open, his tail thumping against the metal as he slid in unceremoniously. "You are correct," he agreed, like I was an absolute genius and should win a fucking award. "No one is stopping me."

"Right." It was just a phrase, but I didn't say that. Instead, I turned to face him.

Act normal.

Focus.

Don't freak out.

Who cares if Blair knows you're a nutcase?

You're fine.

Mutt couldn't have shown up at a worse time. I was not in the mood to be sexed up right now. Well…that was a lie. I was always in the mood to be sexed up by him. Exhibit A: my hard cock, and the tingles running up and down my spine because of the kiss he'd left on my neck.

But still.

The reason Mutt was so distracted quickly became clear when he shoved something into my hands. It took me a second to realize what it was, my brow furrowing as I stared down at an… Easter basket?

"What is?—"

"You will no longer be distressed when you see what I have picked for you." Tail thumping, Mutt leaned into my space nosily. "Open, open, open."

"You…got me this…Easter basket?"

"I do not know what an Easter is," Mutt's tail continued to beat a steady drum behind him. "But yes. It is a basket. A sex basket. Because we had sex. And you are so sweet, and pretty—and good. And your hand is the perfect size to hold my knot. And you smell like oranges. And you are sad—and deserve good things. And I woke up today, and all I wanted was to make you smile."

I woke up today, and all I wanted was to make you smile.

"Right." That was the sweetest shit anyone had ever said to me. I didn't want to be rude—even though I felt like I was falling apart—so I began to pluck at the…newspaper that covered the top of the basket. Some of my nerves began to melt away, excitement taking their place.

"I used the fanciest paper I could find," Mutt declared proudly. "Lots of pictures and designs." He pointed at an article that talked about global warming. "That is the earth."

"Yeah," I agreed, because it was.

"Over here is a guitar," Mutt tugged the paper over and showed me an ad for the open-mic night I often attended in Ridgefield. "You love guitars." He looked so fucking proud that he knew the name of the instrument. Like he'd solved world hunger, or some shit.

So fucking cute.

Fuck.

"I do." My heart fluttered as I finished pulling the rest of the paper away, and then just…

Stared.

Because…fuck.

No one had ever gotten me a gift basket before. Let alone hand picked and decorated one for me. And that was what this was—the sloppy paper and haphazard way it was put together proving that Mutt had done it himself. He'd clearly put a lot of thought into the basket.

"You got me soap?" I asked, my heart my throat as I pulled out the bottle.

"I said I would," Mutt agreed, eyes bright. "It is better. Then I can smell you more clearly."

"Right." My palms were still slick with anxious sweat, but my nerves were fading away for the moment as I stared down at the other gifts that were shoved tightly together inside the basket. "Um. Is this?—"

"A tunes." Mutt declared proudly as I pulled out a handful of iTunes gift cards. "Butters said that if you like music you would like to buy a tunes."

He said "a tunes" like it was the title of the card, and I couldn't help but find that absolutely fucking charming.

"Thank you," I said, voice wobbling a little. I wasn't sure what about scentless soap and gift cards screamed "sex basket" but I appreciated it. I'd kinda expected sex toys or some shit. Not something innocent and sweet like this.

"I bought you many lubes," Mutt added as I pulled out several unopened bottles. I stand corrected. "So that I may fuck you." Mutt held up his fingers and wiggled them at me in a frankly obscene way. "Press against that spot inside that makes you whine."

"Right," I laughed, unable to help myself. My cheeks were hot.

Visions of just that assaulted me. What it would feel like to have Mutt on top of me, his weight pressing me into the bed, his teeth at the back of my neck, his fingers in my ass again.

Fuck.

Okay.

Yes.

That sounded amazing.

"What else did you get me, big guy?" I hummed, unable to bite back my grin. Mutt continued to wag his tail, leaning into my space as he happily poked through the basket with me, explaining each item with enthusiasm.

There was chocolate, because I got sad sometimes, and he'd seen a billboard once that one of his brothers had told him said chocolate was the perfect treat when one was down. Then he tried to force feed me the bar—until I gave in and began to munch on it while he showed me the rest.

A pencil, because I always broke mine.

Which he only knew because he'd seen the stack of snapped ones on the counter. Or maybe, because he'd been there in dog form three days ago when I was writing a song, broke one, called it a bitch, and threw it at the wall.

Mutt may have been a hunter, but he was not sneaky at fucking all.

There was a fuzzy wash cloth, because Mutt said it was the color of my eyes. A half-eaten bag of Cheetos that he'd gotten for "us to share." A bouquet of flowers that he'd tried to make into a crown—and failed spectacularly. A new guitar pick that looked like an acorn—so I'd remember him while I was writing. And a dog toy—a fat little squirrel stuffed animal that squeaked when I pinched it. It was furry and soft, and the perfect size to fit in my palm.

"It makes lovely sounds," Mutt told me proudly as I rubbed its fuzzy head. "Like when prey is dying."

"Super lovely," I agreed, not even lying—because there wasn't a single thing about this basket that wasn't lovely.

"Last but not least," Mutt plucked a little scrap of paper out. It looked like he'd torn it from the newspapers, and there was a hastily sketched out marker on it. "Harry helped."

"Harry is…?"

"Another brother," he hummed. "I have four. Harry, Theo, Jules, and Butters."

"Big family," I replied, eager to have learned something new about him as I stared down at the scrap of paper. It took me a second to figure out what it was.

"Very big. The biggest. And it will only grow bigger soon," Mutt declared proudly. "There are always pups in search of homes, and Mama is looking."

"Is this your phone number?" I blurted out, brow scrunched. "I just…I mean, I assumed you didn't have a phone." Mutt often acted like he'd never spoken to a human before he'd met me. I guess I just figured, based on how frequently he talked about squirrels, he wasn't the kinda dude to buy the latest iPhone.

I was apparently wrong, because that's what he pulled out of his pocket, showing it to me proudly. "It is," he said, flashing me a sunny, adorable grin. He looked so young. There was a weariness to him usually, but it was hidden, forgotten, like he didn't know it was there at all. "So that you may talk to me."

"Okay," I said, heart thumping. "Yeah. That's…I mean… That would be nice."

"Here," Mutt handed me his phone, waiting expectantly. "Butters told me that I will need your number too."

The idea of texting Mutt quickly became my favorite thing ever. I bit my lip, buzzing happily as I typed in my name, and then my number, and shot myself a text. I tucked the paper with his number into my phone case for safe keeping, then handed him back his phone, suddenly shy.

I didn't know what we'd even talk about.

But I was kinda excited to find out.

There wasn't a lot in my life I was excited about right now.

My phone began to buzz in my hand, and I frowned—for all of two seconds before I realized who was calling me. "I'm right here," I laughed, though I swiped the call through and shook my head in amusement.

Mutt held his phone in front of his mouth like a microphone, and even though I felt stupid as hell, I brought my phone to my ear. I was grinning, and I couldn't seem to stop.

"This is my first phone call," Mutt declared, way too fucking loud, right in my ear. I flinched, and then snorted, shaking my head in amusement.

"Hi."

"Hello." Mutt was grinning at me, and he looked like sunshine.

"Thank you for the basket," I said, still holding the phone to my ear, my cheeks flushed.

"Did you love it?"

"I did," I said, my heart thumping. "I do."

His eyes were so bright, and warm, and he was just…god. He was the nicest person I'd ever met. He filled up the passenger seat like a good-natured giant, his ears pricked forward, eyes full of life. He wasn't broken like I was. Hollow.

He was life incarnate, and looking at him made me feel normal for the first time in my life.

"Hey, Mutt?" I said, palms slick with sweat, my earlier upset forgotten.

"Yes?" Mutt's tail continued to thump.

"You're a fucking sweetheart."

Mutt's grin only grew wider, probably because I'd just given him the smile he'd said he wanted. He looked at me like I was the prettiest thing he'd fucking seen, and my stomach filled with butterflies.

"Hey, Jeffrey?" he countered, one hand reaching out for me. I tipped into it, pressing into his palm, my phone still clutched tightly.

"Yeah?"

"Did I cheer you up?"

My heart hurt.

It hurt and hurt and hurt.

"You did," I said, shifting to press a little kiss into his palm. And then I did something I'd never done before. Instead of wallowing in the past, thinking about the conversation that had sent me into a tailspin in the first place, I moved forward. "Are you busy right now?"

"Busy?" Mutt blinked, an odd look crossing his face for a moment before he shook his head. "I am not busy."

"How would you feel about going on an adventure?"

"I love adventures."

"Yeah?" I grinned, nuzzling into his palm. The look Mutt leveled me with was needy and warm, and hungry. My belly flipped. "Me too."