3. Jeffrey

You know that saying, "There ain't no rest for the wicked"? Well, that turned out to be true for me. Because not twenty minutes after I'd passed the fuck out I received a surprise visitor at my front door.

I don't know why I was surprised that my night could get weirder than it already was.

The building I lived in was shitty. Not like, the shittiest. But shitty. It was a few blocks from Spruce, the street that housed all the refurbished—but ancient—buildings that had made up the original town of Elmwood. The halls were drafty. The carpet was stained. And the back of the parking lot led directly into the woods so it was always full of pine cones, leaves, and other debris.

It was the only place I could afford on my limited budget, since I made a point of ignoring the bank account my mom had set up for me when I came back to town. She hadn't asked for anything in return yet, but it was only a matter of time. Nothing in life was free. I knew that better than anyone. So the money rotted, and I was happy to let it. That had been my one and only interaction with her. A letter she'd left with one of my brothers.

She clearly cared…a lot.

Yeah the fuck right.

I'd lucked out with one of the nicest units in the building, but still, the water heater was always on the fritz—either blisteringly hot or ice cold. My oven smelled like gasoline sometimes. There were stains in the carpet. The walls were yellow. The AC unit only worked twenty-five percent of the time. And every doorway was covered in at least fifty layers of flaky white paint.

And I loved it—every last flaw.

Pine cones and all.

Because it was mine .

That didn't mean it was perfect though, or the safest place. It was drafty and the walls were thin—and as I startled awake, I couldn't shake the feeling that something was here.

Something was here.

Waiting for me.

Just outside the front door.

As my thoughts filled with memories from the club, I very quietly, sleepily padded toward the front door to soothe my anxiety. Realistically, this was Elmwood. There was bound to be people out and about at this time—it was a fucking given when more than half the population was nocturnal. But still.

There was no way I'd be able to go back to sleep unless I listened to my gut.

The slight twinge in my ass made me grin as I strode down the hallway, happy memories assaulting my senses for once, rather than the bad ones that usually kept me up at night.

Just thinking about my stranger made my blood sing and my pulse thrum.

I should probably be freaking out more about this.

But I wasn't.

Because for the first time since I'd moved here, I felt like I'd actually be able to get a decent night's rest.

That was, until I looked through the peephole on my door and realized something really was waiting out there.

There was a dog lying right on my stoop. His ass was plopped down on the welcome mat Blair had bought me as a housewarming gift. His head was on his paws, and his eyes were closed, like he was resting. Like he was…guarding my door.

He was… beautiful . Massive and shaggy, his fur a warm deep brown. I gasped—and that ended up being a mistake, because he woke up immediately. Jerking to his feet, the large creature moved like he was about to make a run for it. I fumbled with the bolt locks, scrambling in a panic.

Before he could leave, I managed to yank the front door open, heart in my throat.

He looked familiar.

He looked so fucking familiar.

"Wait!" My voice was panicked, my mind reeling.

Surprisingly…the dog listened. Halfway down the open hallway, he hesitated, wavering between running away now that he'd been caught and coming back. " Please ," I managed. Once again, shocking me, the dog turned back, padding in close and sitting on my welcome mat with a nervous wag of his tail.

He had these adorable big blue eyes, framed by ridiculously long eyelashes that fluttered with each pitiful blink. The poor thing was soaked to the bone, his massive body squashed down into a small little ball like he was worried he might scare me.

Which was fair.

Because even sitting, his head easily came to my stomach. Maybe even my ribs. Oh, and he looked like a giant fucking wolf. Pointy ears. Long snout. Long fluffy tail.

It hit me all at once why he looked so fucking familiar.

Familiar because I'd met this very fucking dog before. At a gas station…somewhere in Colorado probably? Holy shit. Had he followed me all the way here?

"Oh shit," I stared at him, honestly flabbergasted. If I'd been less exhausted I probably would've seen the similarities sooner, but I was operating on less than one brain cell, and as it was, I was just fucking shocked to see a dog at all, especially one I'd met before. "Hi!"

And then he was diving forward, shoving his face into my crotch with a needy, deliberate sniff.

"Fuck." I shoved his head away, laughing a little as I shook my head. Fucking dogs. For real, man. "You came a long way, buddy," I murmured, in awe, squatting down so that we were at eye level and no longer crotch level. "Fuck. That's…fuck. How the hell did you manage that?"

Why would you follow me, of all people?

He whined, and I sighed, curling my hands into fists, unsure if touching him would be welcomed. His head butted against my hands, however, so that question was quickly answered. I scratched along his back, rubbing the downy soft fur behind his ears as he stared up at me beseechingly.

Fuck.

Should I take him in?

I should take him in, right?

I could go to the vet tomorrow. Get him checked out. See if he had a microchip or try to see if anyone was looking for him. But for now it was…what? Three in the morning? And I was dead on my feet.

"Okay, sweetheart," I murmured, petting him as he practically purred, his big heavy head butting into me again—thankfully not my crotch this time—as his tail thump, thumped against the ground. "Okay. You're gonna come in, alright?" He woofed happily, and I laughed, finding it more than a little adorable that he'd responded. "We'll get you sorted, I promise."

There was no way he knew what I was talking about, so clearly the dog was just a vocal guy.

"Let's get you all cleaned up," I urged, rising and stepping back into the house.

He followed after me dutifully. I shut the door behind us, twisting the lock—and then the five bolt locks I'd installed when I moved in. When they were all in place, I could finally breathe again. With a wobbly smile, I stared down at the furry beast, heart fluttering.

It was late, and I was exhausted.

I should've felt awful.

But I didn't.

I'd wanted companionship and I was about to get more than I'd bargained for.

There were muddy footprints down my hallway. The air smelled like damp fur. And the dog splashed like hell when I got him in the bath. I snorted out a laugh, blocking my face as his big, fluffy body sloshed water over the sides of the tub.

"Dude!" I snorted, falling on my ass when his heavy, soggy tail whacked me right in the ass. He leveled me with a look. A look that said he was over my shit. I didn't blame him. I bet with all that fur baths were not fun. "You were soaked—and covered in mud. You needed a bath. Don't look at me like that."

The dog woofed, unamused.

"Fuck," I giggled, unable to help myself. I couldn't remember the last time I laughed like this, carefree. Soaked myself, I rose, grabbing the hem of my shirt and tugging it up and over over my head. In my peripheral vision I could see my torso in the bathroom mirror, covered in the scars I avoided, and freckles that barely outnumbered them.

Don't think about it.

Before I could get sucked into my head, the dog's cold, wet nose pushed into my abdomen. He snuffled, and I laughed, nearly slipping and falling on my ass again when he stared up at me, giant head right by my bare belly. His blue eyes practically glowed.

His eyes seemed to say, "What are these?" while nudging at my scars.

"It's nothing," I hummed, surprised by how easily he'd been able to pull me out of a flashback. Then I shook my head, focusing on him and not my own spiraling thoughts. He looked like a soaked rat. A giant soaked rat. Even worse than before. "Towel," I reminded myself, reaching for one of the two towels I'd bought when I moved in.

Only the towel barely covered part of him and he was still fucking wet. So I grabbed the other one too—figuring I could dry myself off in the air. Or with an old t-shirt or something. As I ran the fabric over his fur, the dog glared at me, though his tail wagged—so I knew he wasn't all that annoyed. When I started drying his belly I was able to confirm that he was, in fact, a boy dog.

"Put that thing away," I laughed, grimacing when his cock began to unsheath, his blue eyes boring a hole into mine. "Fuck. Definitely a guy. Congrats, I guess. That's one…yep. Uh huh. Okay. That's one angry-looking thing ."

I avoided his dick, because I could only handle a certain amount of weird and that was definitely past my limit. "You'll thank me later when I let you into my bed," I informed him as I scrubbed over the wet fur on his head. His ears went back, big eyes blinking up at me. "Clean dogs get more privileges."

He stopped grumbling, and for a second it was almost like he really did understand me. Maybe I was being paranoid, but part of me felt there was something…human about him. But I figured I was imagining things. Especially after I'd spent an hour having sex with a werewolf.

Supernatural shit was always on the brain. You'd have to be insane to pretend to be a dog, and while this regal beast bore a lot of similarity to the man I'd let have my ass virginity, even I knew I had a tendency to catastrophize.

"Tomorrow we're going to the vet," I informed him after I'd broken out my blow drier and gotten him from sodden to damp to dry.

The dog gave me the stink-eye again, and I laughed for the second time that night. I scratched behind his ear and smiled. "You're a good mutt, aren't you?" He wagged his tail in response.

After texting Avery that I couldn't come in after all, I invited my new pet into bed, and with his large furry bulk crowded behind—and on top of me—I was finally able to rest. No nightmares awaited me. I felt safe.

The vet in Elmwood was a witch, like Avery, my boss. She was soft spoken and wore glasses that made her eyes look three sizes smaller than they were, and she smelled like pineapple.

Because I was worried he'd have a bad reaction to the other sights and smells, I'd left my dog in the running car while I got all his information down. Not that there was much I actually knew. I wasn't sure what breed of dog he was, and there was no "wolf" option, so I'd just written "big" there instead.

"If he's not chipped I can run some more tests if you want me to? Blood tests, stuff like that," she offered. I'd gotten lucky as she was out front when I arrived, so the process had been easier. Surreptitiously, I glanced through the large front window, checking that the truck was secure. When I could see the dog's silhouette in the front passenger seat, I relaxed.

"Do you think we need to?" I didn't like the idea of poking him.

"It's a good idea, yeah," she agreed, writing something down on her notepad with a soft smile. "I recommend it for all strays that come in."

"Okay." I didn't know shit about owning a pet—Lydia had abhorred animals—so I decided to just defer to her.

"Go grab him, sweetheart. I got you taken care of," she hummed softly, grabbing the clipboard I'd filled out and reading through it while her receptionist clacked away at the computer.

He's going to hate you if you do this, I fretted as I headed outside and crossed over to the passenger side of my truck.

You're just being a responsible pet owner.

But needles, Jeffrey.

Needles.

"Okay, buddy," I hummed, smiling and projecting calm-calm-calm as the dog's giant head pressed to the glass, watching me. In the light of day he looked even more like the wolf I'd hooked up with the night before. It was kinda hard to ignore the similarities. "We're just gonna pop in for a minute, okay? It'll be fine." I wasn't sure who I was trying to convince, him or me. Either way, I pulled the handle to the door open, leash in hand.

I'd bought him a collar right before this—and a few essentials in case I got to keep him. A dog bed. Some matching sweaters for us. Food. Like fifty toys.

I had a hard time thinking a dog this well-behaved and beautiful didn't already have a family though, so I wasn't getting my hopes up. But…he had followed me here, hadn't he? And that meant something.

It had to.

Maybe it was fate.

I was fully prepared to clip the dog to the lead, and carefully lead him inside?—

Only.

That didn't happen.

Because the second the door opened, the beast barreled through it. My jaw fell open as I reached for him immediately, fingers barely skimming his soft fur. He'd been so calm and slow last night and this morning, always careful not to be rough with me. But now, all that flew out the window as his shoulder clipped my side and I stumbled a little, shocked, as he bolted away from me.

"Hey!" I jolted, already moving to chase—but he was too fast.

Too fucking fast.

His brown furry body disappeared around the corner and a little part of me died the second he was out of sight, because I got the feeling this was the end.

I still chased him, because of course I did.

I spent an hour searching the area for signs of the dog that should've been mine. Because— fuck me —he was nowhere to be found. Eventually, I somewhat convinced myself I was better off this way. Swallowing past the lump in my throat, I returned to my truck and let his leash drop to the front seat.

"Right," I said simply, hands shaking. "Of course he left the second he could." A sick, devastating weight crushed my heart as I leaned my forehead against the shell of my truck and tried to breathe.

"Why would he stay?" My heart hurt.

It hurt, it hurt, it hurt.

"You didn't want a dog anyway," I reminded myself—but even I knew it was a lie. Somewhere between the bath and our night together—and our trip to the pet store this morning, I'd grown attached.

We were supposed to wear matching sweaters in the fall, dammit.

"He doesn't need you," I murmured to myself.

You're just a pretty face, darling.

Who would take you seriously?

I didn't want to look at my truck and its seats full of dog stuff, so I went to the one place in town that didn't feel claustrophobic. It was a short walk, and the heat was welcome as I stepped around the cracks on the sidewalk, my head spinning.

Shaking and sick, the moment I arrived, I called Blair.

I just…I guess I just needed to hear his voice.

He picked up on the second ring and my heart was in my throat as I spoke. "Blair?" I tucked the phone between my shoulder and ear as I fiddled with the joint I'd stashed in my pocket this morning. "How you doin', bud?"

"Jeffrey!" Blair's voice was only somewhat muffled, but then the sound cleared, like he'd stepped outside. "I'm good. What's up?"

Play it cool.

Don't let him know how fucked up you are.

"You wanna smoke?" My heart thumped unsteadily. "I still have one of the joints you gave me."

Please say yes. I don't want to be alone.

"Oh hell yes. Where are you at?"

"Our spot."

Elmwood's graveyard had quickly become our favorite hang out spot. It was peaceful here in a way most places weren't. The quiet helped. And aside from the occasional caw of a crow, or chirp, chirp of a chickadee, the only thing that could be heard here was the whisper of the wind. Trees blocked the entrances, overgrown and unkempt, dripping needles to the ground and offering privacy.

The tombs felt like friends.

Sometimes I felt like I had more in common with the corpses than I did the living.

Blair and I had been here a grand total of two times since I'd moved back, which may not have seemed like a lot, but it was.

"I'll be there in…" I heard more rustling, like Blair was checking the time. "Five minutes."

"Cool."

Ten minutes later—because Blair sucked at being on time—my wayward adoptive brother finally showed up.

"Surprise, motherfucker!" Tiny but solid arms wrapped around me from behind, pushing me out of my morose thoughts as the scent of apples filled my nose along with…I sniffed. Cheese ? He nearly knocked me off of the tombstone I was sitting on, and I laughed, sliding to the ground with a thump, before twisting to greet him properly.

"Blair." I gave him a tight squeeze at the back of his neck like I always did, before pulling back to beam at him. Already, I felt better. Things had been awkward between us, but so far this had been the best interaction we'd had since I'd joined him all the way across the country.

Blair took a step back, grinning wide and bright, the way he never used to before. He was dressed like he always was, head-to-toe black, though today he sported a floor-length vintage vampire cloak and the giant platform combat boots Richard, his boyfriend—my blood brother—had bought him.

He was more muscular now, though still bite-sized. He looked like an adult. Not the punk-ass kid I'd spent half my life protecting. He didn't need that from me anymore. Though apparently he still wanted me around, despite that fact.

Blair looked good.

Full of life.

Way different than he had when we lived together in Oregon. Elmwood had done him a lot of good, even though he hadn't had the scar across his nose and temple before coming here. It sucked honestly, that no matter how hard I tried I hadn't been able to protect him from Lydia.

Each of his scars was a failure on my part, so looking at them hurt probably more than it should've. I could remember how he got each one. The days she'd grabbed him by the face, her nails biting in—and I'd bandaged him up and prayed they wouldn't scar.

"I brought pizza," Blair shoved the box at me with a grin. "It's a new flavor. I'm calling it…claw-sauge and pepper-moon-ie." He blinked. "Damn. Didn't realize how much that sucked till I said it out loud."

"Vegan?" I asked curiously, climbing back onto my favorite headstone. Blair struggled up beside me, watching closely as I pulled the box open.

"Nah," Blair kicked his feet against the stone we sat on in excitement, practically bursting at the seams. "I already finalized the vegan portion of the menu. Which is why I need you?—"

"And me!" a familiar voice popped up from behind us. I jerked in surprise, twisting to see that Collin, my youngest brother, had apparently come with him. Immediately, my calm melted, nerves fluttering around in my belly.

"And Collin," Blair rolled his eyes fondly, nudging me till I finished pulling the box open. "To taste test."

There was a nervous flip in my belly as I tossed Collin a smile over my shoulder and reached for the first slice. It was hot to the touch still. Not surprising, since Blair had bought the building across the street from Avery's magic shop and was turning it into a restaurant. It was only a few blocks from here, which meant the pizza was probably fresh out of the oven.

He'd hired a whole bunch of staff members already—thankfully—since no one we knew had any idea how to run a business. Blair took great pleasure from the planning side of things and the aesthetic of it all, even if he wasn't the one that actually rolled out the dough—or whatever pizza places did. Or the one who knew how to fill out paperwork.

They weren't open yet, because Blair was one goth motherfucker, and was quite stubbornly waiting till Halloween.

It was amazing how quickly something could come together when you had money, and Blair…well. He had a shit ton of money. At least— now he did. It was weird that the kid I'd grown up pilfering pennies from my allowance for, could now afford to buy my entire apartment complex on a whim, if he so chose.

Lydia had stolen a lot from him, just like she'd stolen from me. But at least she hadn't been able to take his fortune—despite doing her damndest to steal just that.

How the tables had turned.

Collin reached past my hand and snagged a slice of his own, groaning happily as he stood sentinel behind Blair's shoulder, watching me.

I liked Collin.

He was supposed to be my kid brother, after all. Supposed to be—because, even though he was, he felt more like a stranger than the rest of the siblings I'd left behind. He'd been born after I was taken, after all, and at fifteen years old with his gangly boy-feet and pointy knees, he might as well have been an alien for all I knew how to talk to him.

He was my only brother that was still human. Since the other three had transitioned to vampires while I was living with Lydia.

But I got the feeling Collin saw through me better than everyone else did, and that made me wary. Something about being the youngest made him have this super sharp bullshit radar. He could smell my lies from a mile away—and he always looked at me like he knew I was hiding something.

I didn't know what to do with him.

Especially because looking at him was just…weird.

Because he looked just like me.

Well…

Just like I'd looked at fifteen. Minus all the scars I hid under long sleeves, and the weight on my shoulders. But unlike me at that age, Collin's smiles weren't fake. They were genuine . He wasn't faux sunshine, he was an actual summer day. He was everything I tried so hard to be, only he wasn't pretending.

How the hell are we gonna smoke a joint with him here? I tried to convey to Blair, but he was too distracted by pizza to read my eyeballs.

I swallowed the lump in my throat and took a bite of the pizza to appease the both of them.

Salty, cheesy deliciousness burst across my tongue.

"Shit, fuck." I groaned, shoving more inside my mouth. My tastebuds danced and I sighed, eyes pinching shut. "Shit, that's good ."

"See?!" Collin nudged Blair. "I told you hiring me would pay off."

"Yeah, yeah," Blair nudged him back, his green eyes bright with mischief. "Collin's helping with the non-vegan items."

"And the names," Collin added. "Because you're horrible at them. The pepperoni is imported," he added in a British accent, looking self-important.

"I want them all to be puns," Blair glared at him. "Sue me."

"No one argued with that," Collin shrugged. "I'm just saying. Zom-beef is way better than Peppermoonie."

"Yeah okay, but that doesn't even make sense. We're not even talking about a beef option."

Collin gave him the stink-eye. "I don't see why not."

"Because it's weird?"

"Weirder than catering pizza to supernatural creatures?"

"You're a little shithead." Blair turned to me, ignoring Collin completely. Clearly this was a sore subject for the both of them. "So…yeah?" Blair waited for my approval, his painted fingernails tapping nervously on his knees.

He'd taken to painting them different colors since he'd moved here. Always goth. But sometimes green. Purple. Red. Like he was experimenting with them as much as he was with the other aspects of his life.

I blamed Richard and the fact that Blair had never had actual freedom or a home to go back to before. Richard supported him and his colorful nails far better than I'd ever thought he was capable. Though to be fair, the only Richard I'd known had been nine-years-old, scared of tetanus—and definitely not the vampire he was today.

But he made Blair happy.

Elmwood made Blair happy.

And happy was a good look on him, even if I didn't recognize him sometimes. Even if it hurt to know that he was moving on, and I was still stuck.

Always stuck.

The pizza turned to lead in my stomach.

"It's good, dude," I said, because he was still always looking for my approval, even now. And this was our sweet spot. The only time I really felt like I could be who I was supposed to be. "Definitely the best pizza I've ever had." Better than the one last week, that's for sure. I don't think I ever wanted to try asparagus on a pizza ever again. That had been a failed experiment I was more than glad Blair had tossed to the trash.

Asparagus belonged uhhhh?—

Somewhere .

But it definitely didn't belong on pizza.

"What are you doing tonight?" Blair asked, leaning back as he watched me eat, his shoulders flexing while he picked absently at the chipped polish on his thumb. "Rich bought us tickets to go to the movies in Ridgefield and I thought you might want to come?" He peeked up at me through his lashes, always a worrier, that one.

Worried I spent too much time alone.

I'd only been here a month and he'd tried to invite me out with him and my brothers at least three times a week. I was running out of excuses, and we both knew it.

"And watch you guys make out? No thank you." I frowned. "Didn't you go out last night?"

Blair laughed, his cheeks pink. "I'll keep the PDA to a minimum. And yeah, we did."

Good for him.

"My dog'll get lonely if I'm gone too long," I lied. And then was struck with loss so visceral I nearly threw up. Because I didn't have a dog anymore. He'd run off. He hadn't wanted me. Hadn't needed me, the way I needed him.

"You have a dog?" Blair cocked his head, eyes wide. "Really?"

"Um. Yeah." Lies, lies, lies. "Except, he kinda ran away."

"Oh, shit."

"I'm gonna…yeah. I'm gonna look for him later," I pretended like I hadn't spent an hour hunting for him already. Like the dog hadn't fucked off as fast as he possibly could the second he had a chance to get away from me. My stomach churned.

"You want help?"

For a second I considered it, but then I remembered Blair had just told me he had plans. And my gut told me hunting for the dog would be fruitless. He'd followed me all the way from Colorado. If he'd wanted to find me, he would've by now.

"Nah, you enjoy your movie."

"You sure?"

"I'm sure."

Blair nodded seriously like I wasn't totally blowing him off. Like he didn't even get that I was blowing him off. "I'm a phone call away if you change your mind about needing help."

"Yeah," I grimaced, flicking my gaze to Collin who was staring at me with those all-seeing eyes. Like he saw right through my bullshit. He arched an eyebrow, and I cringed. "I know." I projected confidence, smiling at Blair, then Collin, trying not to get caught when thoughts of my missing dog made me want to punch the nearest surface till my skin looked like ground beef.

I'm just your strong, solid older brother.

Not a train wreck.

I didn't call you here because I was two seconds from beating a brick wall with my fists.

I didn't call you here because I wanted to cry.

I don't cry.

I can't.

Not anymore.

"You're coming to the beach though, right?" Blair confirmed, eyes narrowed at me. He waggled his brows a moment later, a wicked grin lighting up his face. It was a weird expression on him. Not because it looked bad or anything, but because he'd never really made faces like that before.

Like a fucking stranger had inhabited my little brother's body.

"Right," I agreed, because there were only so many times I could say no before he started noticing something was actually up.

"Sunday," Blair reminded me, and I nodded, knowing full well I wouldn't be fucking going.

"You can ride with us," Collin added. I snagged another slice of pizza and shoved it into my mouth, smiling around the mouthful so I wouldn't have to respond.

"Thanks," my voice was muffled as I continued to project confidence.

"Collin," Blair pointed at him. "Go away."

I blinked, surprised, twisting to look at the both of them again, brow furrowed in confusion.

"He was only supposed to say hi," Blair frowned. "I'm not about to smoke with him around."

"I'm practically an adult," Collin huffed, arms crossed.

" I'm practically an adult, " Blair mirrored back in a nasally voice. "Yeah, right. Go take your pre-pubescent ass back to the pizza joint. Your shift's not over."

Collin snorted, but then smiled at the both of us, obviously not all that annoyed. Even though he did walk off muttering, "prepubescent ass," under his breath.

When he was gone, Blair snorted out a laugh, shaking his head. "I love that kid," he said simply, nudging his shoulder against mine.

Thank fucking God he didn't smile again.

"So. Joint?" He held a hand out, and I pulled it out of my pocket, handing it to him. Blair pinched the joint between his fingers, loosening up the bud so it wouldn't clog, and I snorted, amused. Because for most of our lives he wouldn't have known how the fuck to do any of this. Then he pulled out a lighter—a ridiculous fucking thing that looked like it weighed forty pounds, all ornate spooky-looking metal.

"The hell is that?" I asked, because that shit was ugly as hell.

"My new lighter."

"Lemme guess," I cocked my head, lips pursed. "Richard?"

"Yeah," Blair flushed, eyes dancing. "He bought it for me." He blinked, flabbergasted. "For no reason. Told me…it reminded him of me or some romantic shit."

"Disgusting."

"I know," Blair countered, laughing, though his cheeks were pink so I knew he was a lying liar who lied.

"So fucking weird you're dating my brother," I managed, watching as he lit up and took a long, happy drag.

"So fucking weird you have a brother, or brothers," he countered, blowing smoke in my face. "Other than me, I mean." I set my pizza slice down and took the joint, sucking a drag myself. Bitter smoke filled my lungs, and I held it, lashes fluttering, then released, the tension bleeding from my body.

"Yeah," I said softly, handing it back with a sigh.

That was fair. I'd never told him about my family. Never told him shit, if I was being honest. Lydia hadn't wanted me to and I'd been so fucking scared of her I hadn't dared. By the time we'd gotten old enough for me to feel slightly less terrified, it was too late.

"What other secrets have you been keeping from me?" Blair asked, and even though I could tell he was joking, it still made me tense up. Because my secret family wasn't the worst secret I still kept. Maybe he had a right to know? But I wasn't…ready to talk about it.

So I just shrugged and he nodded, accepting my silence as the answer it was.

"How's therapy going?" Blair asked, keeping his tone light, even though I could feel the weight behind it.

Because of fucking course he asked about therapy.

"It's…going." I'd been going pretty much since I'd moved here. But the first two appointments hadn't really done much? Other than make me rehash shit I didn't want to talk about. "She asks way too many questions."

"That's her job," Blair snorted, taking another drag before passing the joint back.

I stared at it, the cherry red tip, brought it up and sucked in. Already a sense of calm was settling over my body as the high hit and my lungs opened up wide. When the end burned unevenly, I licked my finger and gently tapped it so it would even it out.

"I know," I exhaled, low and slow.

"Is it helping?" Blair asked, still trying to pretend like he wasn't worried about me. Blair used the sad pikachu face, it was mildly effective!

"I dunno," I answered honestly, hunched over. I hadn't invited him out to get grilled, and I was kinda regretting this choice—but that wasn't new. I regretted a lot of things nowadays. "You need help at the pizza joint?"

"Don't change the subject," Blair laughed. "And yeah, man. That would be nice. I got a shipment coming in later that's gonna be a total bitch to move. Rich'll probably be busy with council shit—some treaty, negotiation, I dunno, whatever. For a wolf pack? Thing? And Collin's starting public school so he's no help."

The idea of being useful made me perk up.

"I got your back, man."

"Thanks," Blair grinned, eyes crinkling at the corners. Then, he sobered. "Look. Just let me say one last thing—then I promise I won't bring any of this shit up again," Blair blurted before I could distract him successfully. I sucked in a breath, wanting to say no—to deny him this—but I was officially too high and sad to argue.

"Fine," I sighed, smiling at him because I figured he needed reassurance.

"You…" Blair sucked in a breath. He'd been going to therapy too. Same building, different therapist. It was why he'd invited me there in the first place. He said it was helping him. He wanted to help me too. And what was I supposed to say to that?

I'd told him I was fine, and he'd leveled me with a look that had silenced every last one of my protests.

I didn't interrupt, because I knew sometimes it took him a lot of courage and thinking to figure out what he wanted to say. Especially when it was dark or shitty.

I'm not ready for this.

Don't do this to me.

I can't handle it.

Don't, don't, don't.

"Never mind," Blair smiled at me—and it was as fake as my own. But I was grateful. Grateful because it meant I wouldn't have to deal with this. Wouldn't have to add something new to my already full plate.

But…Blair looked disappointed in himself.

That he'd chickened out at the last second.

And I couldn't stand that.

"No," I said softly, shaking my head, blowing smoke up toward the cloudy sky. "Say what you were gonna say. It's cool." It hurts, it hurts, it hurts.

Blair waffled, but when I flashed him another smile—this one apparently more convincing than the last—he was able to move forward.

"You know I don't blame you, right?" Blair said softly, and ice filled my veins. Immediately, revulsion burned through my body. The pizza in my stomach threatened to come up. But still, I smiled.

"Of course."

You should blame me.

It was my fault.

It was all my fault.

"I think…it's time to move on," Blair said softly, reaching out and squeezing my shoulder, his grip tight. "Don't you?"

"Yeah," I agreed.

I can't, I can't, I can't.

I deserve this.

I deserve this.

I can't.

"Okay," Blair blew out a breath, grinning at me, the tension in his shoulders slipping away. "Good." He leaned against my shoulder for a second, the warm heat of his body lending me strength as my thoughts spun out of control. "You deserve to be happy."

I don't.

I don't.

I don't.

"I know," I bumped him back and he snorted out a laugh. "Fuck."

"Corny as fuck," Blair shrugged, "but…I dunno. I thought maybe you needed to hear it."

"Thanks," I took another bite of pizza so I wouldn't throw up. Blair put the joint out, and we sat in silence for nearly twenty minutes before we'd calmed down enough to leave.

And then I went hunting again. First for my dog. And after that, for somewhere quiet to fall apart. Somewhere with a brick wall, and only one exit, so I wouldn't have to worry about watching my back.